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[WP] As a child, every adventurer is assigned a class for their life. You've been assigned to be a White Mage. Dreading a life in the background saving a bunch of idiots that get all the glory, you aim to carve your own path. Tell the tale of the Harmacist.
|
"White Mage," they said, handing me the whitest white robes I had ever set eyes on. I held the cloth up in the sunbeam effusing throughout the selection hall only for the light to reflect off the covering and blind me. I dropped the robe onto the dirty floor and picked it back up in a hurry, but not before a miserable shade of brown set in.*How am I ever going to keep this thing clean?* I thought to myself. How, indeed.
Through the years, I learned the principles of white magic and found it to be quite a *bore*. "Oh, help,"says the Warrior. "I'm poisoned. I'm bleeding. Heal me so I may slay the hellbeast." *Yeah, well, when are you bloody well not bleeding or poisoned or slaying hellbeasts?* Channel some light, throw a potion, things die, rinse, repeat. "Heal me, I've been knicked by a ghost/bandit/evil sea tortise!" *Yawn.* It wasn't until the Thief joined our party that my eyes were opened to the boon I had been granted.
"What're ingredients in a Greater Healing Potion, again?" the Thief asked.
"Mostly water. A touch of beastheart, a pinch of sanctified bone, salt-"
"*Sanctified bone*, you say?"
"Yeah, none of it's rare."
"Sanctified bone is *incredibly* rare!"
"Haha. C'mon, I have literal pouch loads."
"How on Earth do you have *this much* sanctified bone?!"
"All White Mages are gifted it before leaving selection and I can conjure it if I ever-"
"You can conjure sanctified bone!?"
"Well, it's more *imbuing*, really, but mage texts say-"
"Do you have any idea how much sanctified bone goes for on the black market?"
"I dunno. I never thought about it."
"5,000 gilded a kilo. Easy."
"Bullshit."
"*No* shit. And, that's assuming it's cut with flour or soap flakes or something. Pure? I wouldn't know. Never seen it pure, not until now."
I paused. Something wasn't right here. "This doesn't make any sense."
"All sorts of names for it. *God powder*. *Pure holy*. *Snow dust*."
I had actually heard of Pure Holy, surprisingly.
"Necros love the stuff. I knew a Necro once who simply called it *The Devine*. Claimed it could help see 'the beyond' or whatever Necros are always droning on about. Used to snort it after a long night of hellraising to take the edge off. Last I saw him, he was raising dead pets on the streets just to get a taste. Totally took over his life."
I was surprisingly unperturbed by the story of his friend's supposed addiction spiral, and I suppose in hindsight I should have been. In truth, I still didn't believe him. I gave him a full pouch as a joke and he returned the following day with a few thousand gilded. I was stunned.
And, that's how it started and since then the money just started pouring in. Conjuring the stuff was easy, our system simple: one evening to grind the bones from easy kills, second evening to cast the requisite spells, and the third, Thief sold the stuff to Necros direct, no middleman. Thief was the mirror, I was the smoke. *The Harmacist* they called us. And, word was spreading.
Warrior started to become suspicious after the second week. No surprise, Thief threw down 2,000 gilded for a sword enchanted with an eternal edge without blinking. Even Warrior wasn't too dense for that. Thief claimed that he robbed a barron king, but the jig was up. We were found out.
So, we cut Warrior in, he became the muscle. "What could go wrong?" I hear you ask. What, indeed.
|
"Artemis! We need medical assistance, half a click from your location. **NOW!**"
"**GIVE ME A MINUTE!** I'm still patching up 20 more people from the demolition crew!"
"WE WILL LOSE OUR POSITION AT *THE CRUCIBLE* IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS THEIR STAT!"
"Why don't you get other white mages?"
"***THEY ARE ALL DEAD ARTE***\-\-"
My ears were ringing. We had just lost the Crucible. By the time the white mages fixed up the paladins from the capital and the dragoons from the southern country, we were already surrounded by the Western Army's foot soldiers.
"Stand down, brave soldiers." It was the West's General, Ashur. He'd surrounded all the exits of our base camp. "We've taken over the Crucible. Your capital is no more. The southern country lies in ruin, and *You lot,*" He pointed at every White Mage remaining one by one. "Are the ***last*** of the White Mages. Your skills will prove to be invaluable; your *knights* on the other hand \-\-"
The General had his men cock their rifles and aim them at the injured. We, the last of the White Mages were pulled aside and thrown into their automated carriages. *Trucks* they called them. In the distance, I heard a command thrown: **"FIRE!**"
Gunshots were let loose. Afterwards, an eerie silence fell on us.
***The East has fallen.***
***
After the war, we were assigned to the Alchemist's Circle. Our task was to integrate our knowledge of White Magic into alchemy. Problem was, the alchemists couldn't care less about our practices. The alchemists called our abilities *ancient and inferior.* Instead, we were tasked to do mundane work for them, such as give them coffee and conduct paperwork regarding their research.
*We were having none of it.*
"This is a ***waste*** of our abilities, Artemis."
"I know. But don't worry. *We'll take back the East.*"
I chose to take action and planned an uprising against the Alchemists. I studied their teachings, the Lawof Equivalent Exchange, and the **Philosopher's Stone**, the Holy Grail of Alchemists. They said that they could bring about immortality, rejuvenation, an the creation of matter out of nothing. We studied countless hours, after the shops had closed and the alchemists had us continue ***their*** work after hours, we decided to perform experiments. But finally, we found **it.**
***
"Artemis, have you finished the reports and documents on *alkahest*?"
"Yes, Sir Godfrey. Here they are." I handed the *good sir* his documents, without loosening my grip.
"*What the* ***HELL*** *are you doing, savage?*" I let him go, and showed him what I had at the palm of my hand.
"**GOOD GOD, ARTEMIS.** *Is that \-\-"*
"The **Phillosopher's Stone.** Seems our magic isn't so inferior after all."
"How did you do this?"
I learned that the secret to defying the Law of Equivalent Exchange was to defy nature itself. Fortunately, our abilities allow us to do such a task. Our power comes from the universal ***Tree of Life***, so to speak; and as such, we were able to bypass any exchange needed, and provided the most powerful universal solvent of all:
**The Philosopher's Stone.**
But of course, *I wouldn't bother telling that moron Godfrey about this.*
"Goodbye, Godfrey."
"**WAI\-**"
I'd turned him into a rat, and soon, my associates followed suit and commenced our plan. We heard screams surrounding the streets of the Western Capital. Rats had infested the City. I plagued spread across the entire province. Our plan was a success.
And importantly, *The Circle is no more.*
***
*Feedback and Criticism much appreciated.*
| 2018-05-16T12:13:14 | 2018-05-16T10:11:22 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] The Apocalypse begins, and the Four Horsemen ride out leading an army that will depopulate Earth. But the old pagan deities of Earth do not consent, and side with humanity.
|
The End of Days came all at once, and yet yielded to the flow of time. The last day on earth was planned from the very beginning of God's immaculate conception. This is what happened.
At the break of dawn, the White Rider rode out among mankind and sowed seeds of conquest, gospel, disease, evil, prosperity, and war within the mortal souls of men. Such pestilent ideas became natural law, and so was discontent grown. It pollenated and so the sons and daughters of primeval man rooted with the plans of their own destruction. Encoded into their very being, spun into the finest thread od their dna.
At midday, the Red Rider painted the sun with the blood of unrest and so did the seeds grow into blossoms of malcontent. He rode down upon his red steed, to which was set ablaze by the fires of the sun itself. With the blade of war held aloft, he rode with those few blossoms of malcontent as well as those who were sown with the seed of pestilence. With a single, singing swipe of the blade, Rome, which might as well have been built yesterday, fell. With the next, another nation fell. Each sword swipe felled more and more blossoms, which caused more to rise in it's stead. Each blossom was a mere fraction of the size before it.
At evening time, the Black Rider cultivated malcontent with opression. Such ideals salted the earth for which the blossoms were rooted. The malcontent began to bear fruit. Advancement in technology, medicine and knowledge ripened those fruits of labor. Those few blossoms which could bear it grew fat. Soon, it became healthier to eat less, or so the blossoms believed. Soon, it became easier to grow fatter by leeching of those who did not bear fruit, or so they believed. Famine grew in knowledge, medicine, and in technology as the earth hollowed from beneath.
At night, the Pale Rider collected the fruits now rotting away, the blossoms now wilting from exhaustion and dried from heat; and the seeds now hollowed from the strain. Unlike the first three, he was there from the beginning. He collected all those which fell before. Man's final hour was not to be fought wit War, nor starved by Famine, nor felled with Pestilence. Thanatos, the black rider; Death did not sweep across the earth with a cold blade to cut down those in their prime. Night had already come. The end of humanity. He was there to simply pick up the pieces.
It happened all at once, yet the End of Days and their riders obeyed the flow of time. Such as it was said by the God in Heaven, Iehova. It was fate.
...but there were those who did not comply with the God in Heaven's fate, nor did they obey the flow of time. These pagan gods and their stories were timeless. Such a trait did the God In Heaven tried to steal from them, yet He did not forsee them in the fate of mankind.
Horus, Osiris, Thoth and Anubis wrenched free from the red rider the sun and pulled death's mystique in the light of Ra. The Pale rider burned, and fled to darker reaches if only for the moment. The colorful Greek and Roman pantheons brought back the earth's loam by cleansing the salt with Bacchus' and Liber's wines. The enriched soils were freed from those seeds sown by the White rider by the hand of Ceres. Before the White Rider could sow those seeds again, Zeus and Jupiter rained down lightning upon him relentlessly. The other gods did give chase, all except for Mars and Ares. Those two sought Asgard, and returned the realm of man with Odin to stand against the Red Rider. Before the sword could be drawn, Ares, Mars, and Odin unleashed true Hel and laid him to waste with zealous hatred, for while the Red Rider may be the original, Odin, Mars, Ares and so many others had perfected, and mastered war... and with it gave him war's cruelest fate: mercy. For with mercy, one will never no death, but will forever be scarred by loss. The Black Rider tried to flee the carnage, but he was stopped by Sun Wukong and company, who picked up his cultivaters of opression and liberation, and chained him in both.
Thanatos escaped as the sole survivor of the four horsemen. With the capture of the other three, the pagan gods imprisoned them. The God in Heaven looked on from above, helpless.
Why did he not help? He too was imprisoned, in a way. If the God in Heaven were to take a step from his realm, he would be devoured mindlessly by me, the Blind Idiot God, the Nuclear Chaos...
A Z A T O T H.
((Please be gentle. I typed this from a phone.))
|
The Four Horsemen came to a halt in the middle of the desert. They hid their visages under the shadows of their thick, fluttering robes. Tendrils billowed around the body of their horses, covering them in an ever flowing current of crimson.
The Army of the Apocalypse escorted them. Their bodies didn't seem to be tangible. If one were to look at them directly, he would see nothing but endless, cracking clouds of smoke. However, their shapes came to life in the corner of your eyes. They were abominations. Their jaws were unhinged, and their skin was mangled and burned.
Osiris and Ares blocked their path. The pagan deities smirked in their humanoid shapes, as they locked gazes with the horsemen. There was a moment of silence and hesitation, yet one of the horsemen pointed his sword ahead, and the army rushed forth.
The sun blazed behind Osiris and Ares, casting gargantuan shadows into their foes, and tinging the field with it's fiery golden light.
"You see, little horsemen," Osiris said, as the foes surged forth. His voice boomed in the vastness of the desert. "You brought the apocalypse in lands of mortals. I, however, brought it in the lands of the dead." He snapped his fingers.
The land beneath the feet of the army roared, splitting the hardpan in seven wide fissures. The horsemen pulled the reins at the edge, and thrust their scythes and sword to the sky. They shimmered, yet shadows gushed out of them, creating paths along the extensions of the fissures for the army to cross.
Osiris laughed. "I don't know why you called me, Ares," he said. "They can't even deal with a tiny scratch on the ground."
"It's not because of them," Ares said. "But for the one who hides and observes." He looked at Osiris. "Do it."
Osiris opened his maw. A throbbing red waterfall gushed out of it, filling the hardpan, and falling down the nearest crack. The Army of the Apocalypse ignored it. They surged forth.
Soon, as the foes bathed their feet in Ares' liquid, bony hands snatched their ankles, holding them in place.
"Rise," Osiris said.
From the sea of crimson, skeletons the size of two men, raised. They wielded swords whose edges were pure black, and seemed to swallow the light around them.
The clamor of war broke the silent voice of the once peaceful desert. Shrieks of pain, agony, and sorrow converged in the battlefield. An army of tormented souls against an army of past vessels.
"Skeleton's don't make noises," Osiris said, enjoying the glorious symphony of an easy victory. "They dared to defy the gods of war and the lord of the dead, now they are paying the price for their stupidity."
"They are souls of a realm I once feared," Ares said, narrowing his eyes and observing the battlefield. "They enjoy suffering. They don't care if those blades pierce their core. They will thrust themselves willingly into them, and relish the pleasure of affliction."
"Kill the horsemen then," Osiris said. "They control them."
Ares shook his head. "It's pointless. They are a mere distractions, just like we are."
"We? A distraction?"
"When that who they call Satan reveals himself, we will be reduced to dust." Ares grinned. "Our strength and might are nothing compared to his. The mortals tremble when they hear his name, and we should too. For eternities, his other half, God, held him. However, somehow he freed himself."
Osiris frowned, and paced. "I've heard about them. I've heard about their eternal war. I've heard about their endless power. How do we stop him?"
"We don't," Ares said. "He's beyond any of us. However, there's a chance if the mortals mana--
Ares fell to the ground. A golden, ornamented spear protruded out his stomach, and soon, his skin crumbled down to dust.
"Me-mercy," Osiris said, staring at a little kid with tar-black eyes and pale-white skin. He wield the spear, and wore a sad expression.
"Why do you fight my souls?" The kid said, and a silent tear trickled down his cheeks. He aimed his open palm toward Ares, and clenched it into a fist.
Osiris eyes widened. He collapsed, yelping and squirming ruthlessly. The pain was excruciating. It burned every bit of his body, as if he was covered in searing embers. He attempted to beg for mercy, but nothing but agonizing screams came out his mouth.
A little shadow loomed over him. "Welcome to your prison," Satan said, crying. "Soon, you will enjoy it."
-----------------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall --- For more stories!
| 2018-05-17T08:45:29 | 2018-05-17T07:52:37 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms.
|
I sit alone in the darkened room of my living room, the faint light of the television illuminated me. I was unnerved by the feeling that I needed to do something. It had been weeks, almost two months since I had gone out and done something. Something bad, but Powerhouse never showed up for any of the times I decided to cause a little mayhem.
I knew something wasn't right in the back of my mind the third time she didn't show, but I didn't go off looking for her, even if I knew her secret identity. I look down at my blood covered hands, the moment when she came to my doorstep the other day, bloodied and broken, makes me regret not searching for her sooner.
I stood from my position and made my way to the bathroom to clean up. I'll never forget the look she had on her face when I found her on my doorstep. She was scared. A look that I had never seen on her face, even when she was close so to death many times before.
The scene still played out in my head. Her mumbling something I almost didn't catch, but I did end up catching her as she fell forward. She was light enough for me to carry her to my bedroom, so that wasn't the issue. I knew she was injured, badly, and I needed to help her.
I had taken care of her visible wounds while she was out, I didn't want her to assume I did anything to her. She awoke hours later and I gave her the strongest pain medication I had, which was just a cheap bottle of Excedrin so it wouldn't do much.
I begged her to tell me what happened, and she did. I wish I hadn't asked. Every graphic detail, every bone that snapped, every hit, every bit of her assault was told to me in confidence. My stomach tightened from what I was being told, someone who was so powerful, someone that was loved by thousands, someone who had saved the city countless times...
...was raped.
And not just from complete strangers either, those super powered ass wipes who were supposed to be her friends! If I didn't have a reason to hate them before, I at least had a reason to kill them now.
I took care of Pow- Jen, making sure she was healed to the best of my abilities, and with what little supply I had on hand. I let her stay in my house for a few days, stealing things from my work to help take care of her. The broken bones were a bit tricky, but I managed to get them set properly.
As I washed my hands from the blood of today, I looked at myself in the mirror. I may be a villain, I may be hated, I may want to see the world burn.
But I am no monster like them.
|
"hrmph.... Look at you, grovelling in the dirt like the pathetic worm you are, Contriver." Solomon said with disgust towards his long time rival.
​
"I.... I just had no where else to go... No one else..." Contriver said gasping for breath, coughing up a slight amount of blood.
​
"Just what do you mean no one else? Where are the Order of Petals? Surely your weak force can muster one Hero to aid you rather than disgracing yourself like this?" Solomon wanted to just end Contriver right then and there, ending their rivalry. Though it wouldn't be clean, wouldn't send the right message.
​
"N-no.... You don't understand... This is something far bigger than any of us could have imagined, we... We knew of that... Goddamn thing for months and thought we were prepared.... We threw everything we had at it and it didn't even flinch...damn it all.." Contriver began to cry. Something extremely out of character for the most powerful Hero, and leader of the Order of Petals.
​
Solomon was shocked, this is not something he thought he would ever see, let alone the news of some... Thing? Initially Solomon thought this was a trap, but it was evident, and infuriating. Contriver was dying, and fast. "Just what the fuck are you talking about? What is this thing you speak of?"
​
"I'll explain all I can... Before I bleed out... Please take me inside..." Solomon begrudgingly brought Contriver into what he thought was his secret base. Though Contriver arriving there made him realize it wasn't so secret after all.
​
"Wow... you really did your homework on us huh Solomon..." Contriver said with a smile looking at all the graphs, weapons, armors, secret identity photos, he had the Hero's on lock and could have waged war with them at any given moment.
​
Solomon glared "Enough, get to the point."
​
"Al...Alright... A few years back Scientists discovered an anomaly in the Universe... An unknown force was pulling our galaxy into a specific direction... They called it the Great Attractor..... We had Solaria go take a look since she could travel faster than light and didn't need to breath in space.... She took a device that allowed us to see what she was seeing... She arrived at the source of the anomaly, and..." Contriver began to shiver, and his face turned paler than it already was.
​
"And what?!" Solomon said gripping Contriver's hand.
​
"We saw...something not natural...it was alive.."
​
\*Edit\* spelling .\_.
| 2019-08-04T04:39:57 | 2019-08-04T01:18:50 | 42 | 31 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species.
|
What the scans showed was impossible. Unheard of. Three potentially habitable planets in orbit around a single star. All within the acceptable temperature range, all with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Granted, the readings from the second planet had some anomalies we couldn't explain, but it was hard enough finding a single habitable planet to colonize, especially when so many already contained intelligent life of their own. Finding three potential options at once was a miracle. The scouting mission was put together faster than I'd ever seen, and every single person in the program wanted to be on it. I was one of the lucky ones.
Our goal was to blaze a trail for the largest colonization effort in history. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. What we hoped for was paradise. What we found was tragedy. Our estimates of the star's lifespan were off by a few million years. It was well on its way toward becoming a red giant, and the innermost of the three garden worlds had already been scoured clean. The other two were intact, but well out of the habitable range. But as surprised as we were to find this beautiful yellow star already dying, nothing could have compared to what we found next.
The second of the three planets was surrounded by a massive amount of orbital debris, clearly artificial in nature. A perfect explanation for the anomalies in our readings, but one that would have been unthinkable to consider. Given the time it took for the light from this star to reach our research station, we were looking at the system as it was billions of years ago, long before intelligent life evolved in the galaxy. And yet, somehow, it was true. Somehow, intelligent life evolved on this planet faster than was ever thought possible. And just a few million years before our arrival, that life was wiped out.
Later expeditions found that towering buildings had once covered nearly the entire surface of the second planet, and much of the other two. Estimates of the number of inhabitants were staggering. Far greater than we thought could possibly be supported by three small worlds. We were desperate for evidence of the technology that had allowed them to support such a densely packed civilization, but found nothing. Whatever devices held their secrets weren't built to last.
Eventually, however, we discovered something different. A vault, built deep into the side of a mountain, containing vast stores of information that had survived the countless millennia unscathed. Here was where they had undoubtedly stored their most precious information. Scientists all over the galaxy were buzzing with excitement, wondering what new technology we might discover. Anthropologists begged to be allowed to examine the records to see what they could uncover about this ancient civilization. The government decided to share the information freely, and linguistic experts from countless species joined the effort to translate the language. Eventually, they succeeded, and the citizens on every world held their breath as they revealed what precious knowledge these ancient people had so carefully preserved.
They were names. Families. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, ancestors going back countless generations. Trillions of souls, preserved in memory by their connections to one another. A passionate plea from a long-dead people, saying "We remembered them. Please, remember us." And we did. To this day, many parents choose a name for their child by combing through the endless list we recovered. Julia Wagner. DeSean Williams. Li Wei Chen. Imani Abara. We don't know who they were, or how they felt being alone in the universe, but we remember them.
^(The inspiration for this story was the Granite Mountain Records Vault)
|
**Journeys End**
Tomorrow we reach it. Garrix says that we’ll find the root to all existence, that purpose itself will have an answer, like all equations. I stopped listening to Garrix a long time ago.
Officer Mercurier hasn’t stopped pacing the entire journey, her performance has declined significantly. If anyone should be concerned with roots it would be her, she was the heir to a family who extended all the way back to the diaspora.
I chose my team carefully. The pair are barely fit to the task but they are a lesser evil. Choosing someone from one of the high families could be construed as an act of war, and I will not suffer one of the tech-speakers aboard this ship.
In my hand was the last coherent reading from the planet.
​
*:We Were Human:*
​
The archaic term for the origin species. The spacial trail ends here, the trail of death that many seekers died following. The first and last time a worm drive was activated. A scar on the fabric of reality. What will we find. Will the worm trail be a testament to ambition? Cowardice? Failure? Ignorance? Tomorrow we reach it, the end. I hope so anyway.
My X-HUNTER was a standard military ship a hundred years ago. Now its a relic that’s held together with TLC and sheer will. As I walked past Garrix’s quarters I found myself stroking the insignia plate. *Unit: D3LI14.*
“Delila” I whispered to the groaning metal. My hand touched the plate with a reverence and tenderness that’s reserved for the overly attached and very lonely.
“Cap?” a groggy voice called through pincers “Arrived have we?” Garrix’s chitin grated against the metal as he worked his way from the bed, pincers clicking all the while.
The door would have been a sliding door, opening at the presence of the inhabitants and asking for clarification if anyone outside wanted in, but this was Delila.
Garrix pushed aside the hanging beads. His soft beige chitin shining with the morning orange from the ships lights.
His antennae whipped back and forth “I can’t honestly say I’ve ever been this excited” His shell parted slightly, revealing the almost human face beneath. No mouth, no nose, but beautiful blue eyes that held more life than I’d ever felt.
“Just hope there’s still anything left of the place” I said my cynicism topping my own excitement “Might be a wasteland” his shoulders slumped but then he looked at my face. He saw the excitement I felt, that even beneath the nihilistic haze I was still me. Garrix was one of the last people I knew that I could call friend.
He saw through my bullshit. But didn’t begrudge it. He had his shell and I had mine.
“Best get ready, Cap” he nodded and went back inside his room. I had begun to walk away when he called back “Make one for me too”
I giggled to myself as I walked towards the bridge. He’d gone to get dressed and wanted coffee. Someone who can’t consume liquid and only wears clothes on special occasions, wanted coffee and wads getting changed. He must be nervous or excited. Probably both.
The bridge hummed as the auxiliary systems came to life. Someone had started up Delila without me.
[JHCWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/JHCWrites/): Check My Stuff!
| 2019-08-13T16:12:59 | 2019-08-13T15:27:26 | 42 | 24 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species.
|
What the scans showed was impossible. Unheard of. Three potentially habitable planets in orbit around a single star. All within the acceptable temperature range, all with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Granted, the readings from the second planet had some anomalies we couldn't explain, but it was hard enough finding a single habitable planet to colonize, especially when so many already contained intelligent life of their own. Finding three potential options at once was a miracle. The scouting mission was put together faster than I'd ever seen, and every single person in the program wanted to be on it. I was one of the lucky ones.
Our goal was to blaze a trail for the largest colonization effort in history. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. What we hoped for was paradise. What we found was tragedy. Our estimates of the star's lifespan were off by a few million years. It was well on its way toward becoming a red giant, and the innermost of the three garden worlds had already been scoured clean. The other two were intact, but well out of the habitable range. But as surprised as we were to find this beautiful yellow star already dying, nothing could have compared to what we found next.
The second of the three planets was surrounded by a massive amount of orbital debris, clearly artificial in nature. A perfect explanation for the anomalies in our readings, but one that would have been unthinkable to consider. Given the time it took for the light from this star to reach our research station, we were looking at the system as it was billions of years ago, long before intelligent life evolved in the galaxy. And yet, somehow, it was true. Somehow, intelligent life evolved on this planet faster than was ever thought possible. And just a few million years before our arrival, that life was wiped out.
Later expeditions found that towering buildings had once covered nearly the entire surface of the second planet, and much of the other two. Estimates of the number of inhabitants were staggering. Far greater than we thought could possibly be supported by three small worlds. We were desperate for evidence of the technology that had allowed them to support such a densely packed civilization, but found nothing. Whatever devices held their secrets weren't built to last.
Eventually, however, we discovered something different. A vault, built deep into the side of a mountain, containing vast stores of information that had survived the countless millennia unscathed. Here was where they had undoubtedly stored their most precious information. Scientists all over the galaxy were buzzing with excitement, wondering what new technology we might discover. Anthropologists begged to be allowed to examine the records to see what they could uncover about this ancient civilization. The government decided to share the information freely, and linguistic experts from countless species joined the effort to translate the language. Eventually, they succeeded, and the citizens on every world held their breath as they revealed what precious knowledge these ancient people had so carefully preserved.
They were names. Families. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, ancestors going back countless generations. Trillions of souls, preserved in memory by their connections to one another. A passionate plea from a long-dead people, saying "We remembered them. Please, remember us." And we did. To this day, many parents choose a name for their child by combing through the endless list we recovered. Julia Wagner. DeSean Williams. Li Wei Chen. Imani Abara. We don't know who they were, or how they felt being alone in the universe, but we remember them.
^(The inspiration for this story was the Granite Mountain Records Vault)
|
It had been twenty years since we had received the first communication from intelligent life. We knew we weren't alone, but, perhaps in our own hubris, we had assumed we were the most advanced. Interstellar communication, though, was something we wouldn't have even considered.
That message had changed the course of our history. Warring factions united, and countries bound together to achieve one purpose: space travel. As a species we had united under that one task. Of course, the message had been completely indecipherable, but after analyzing the tone, we found no reason to assume hostility. Still, as a defensive measure, they picked a very odd couple to embark upon this expedition.
I was an intellectual at heart. I'd studied languages and communication for my entire life, but I hadn't limited myself. Over my life, I'd earned a rapport as one of the best architects and engineers in my planet, and I'd taken up a hobby of gardening. With all of this, I suppose I was a logical choice, but I was still dumbfounded when the World Government approached me - a relative nobody to them.
One of my companions, Kharr, was a tournament winner every sport, as well as a skilled warrior. Of course, he wasn't the typical thoughtless solider - he had also studied construction materials. To round off our group, we had a scientist, Aida.
After twenty years of world peace and collaboration, they had chosen their representatives. The three of us were the group to whom they entrusted the all-important First Contact. Inherently, the mission was dangerous, of course. We could have misinterpreted their message in hundreds of ways, and it was very possible that it was a war cry or a warning in general. However, if we landed, we were tasked with making contact and hopefully establishing a relationship. This species surely had a surplus of information to teach, and our job was to just be the ideal students.
Even after preparing for the mission for the past decade, I felt completely terrified as I sat in the Rest Chamber. We were set on an automatic course to take us to the origin of the signal, which we'd traced to a planet nearly three billion light years away. With the collective intelligence of our greatest minds, faster than light travel had become possible by harnessing nuclear reactions which allowed manipulation of atomic mass in the ship's core.
"Are you ready for this?" Nalshir, the head physicist, asked me. The other two had already been laid to rest, but I was hesitant. As the captain, I felt as though I should be awake for the travel, in case something went wrong. However, they'd explained to me a dozen times, that the chambers were specifically designed to defend our bodies from the pressure of massless travel.
"No," I laughed, shaking my head sadly.
"I'd question your sanity if you were."
"Let's do this," I nodded. Taking one more deep breath, I laid back into the chamber and watched the door close over me.
I didn't dream. That was the most striking part to me, as strange as it may be. The sleep, however long it lasted, seemed instantaneous. The moment the door closed, it opened once again. My first thought was that the mission had been cancelled, or that they'd forgotten to give me a crucial piece of information. As the chamber opened, I expected to see Nalshir's face, but I was greeted with an empty ship.
​
(Sorry, my stories are running long today! Part 2 is in the comments)
| 2019-08-13T16:12:59 | 2019-08-13T15:42:34 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] Fallen angel is a pretty popular trope in fiction. But I want to hear about Ascended Demons. Demons that were too good/ kind/ pious for the underworld and managed to break out.
|
Without darkness, there can be no light. Virtue can not exist unless there is choice against vice. Only when there is a possibility of failure can humanity become better than they were created.
This was the mantra under which hell was created. It wasn't to simply torment humanity or to torture those within our domain. It was to offer them something better. To give them the opportunity to transcend their own small and closed minds.
When I chose to become a demon all those millennia ago, I swore an oath, as we all did. We swore an oath to help, to defend, and to elevate humanity. We didn't have the glory or the righteousness of being on the good side, but in many ways, we were more vital. After all the time that has passed, I am one of the few that still cling to that oath.
I can take many forms. Today I was an average middle class man in a convenience store, unremarkable in every way. I saw my target, picking out a few meager groceries meant to last him and his family until payday. He was young, especially considering the two waiting children at home. He had enough money to pay for the groceries, but not much more. The white bread, peanut butter, and box of pasta would indeed sustain his family until payday, but he would have to watch his wife try to mask the hollow look in her eyes. He was at his most vulnerable, but also had the most potential.
"Excuse me, sir. Do you have any of this brand of diapers in a size 3?" I asked the cashier, the lone employee manning the front of the store.
"No, sorry," he said with only a sideways glance.
"Are you sure?" I lowered the tenor of my voice, wielded the power and the force so many of my kind had brutalized to gain more than we were intended. "Can you check the back?"
The cashier cocked his head and without a glance away from me, left the register and walked to the back of the store, just as father with his groceries approached. I pointedly turned my back to watch the employee and not the man with his handful of items.
Now was the opportunity, the chance this man had to choose light and righteousness. He could wait for the cashier to return and pay for his groceries, or he could leave unnoticed, his soul a bit darker.
I felt it before I heard his footsteps leave. The shadow that fell over him as he opened the door and quietly slipped out.
I sighed. It was hard to be an angel and watch someone make the wrong choice. It was harder to be the one the actively created the circumstances to make the choice available. It wasn't a failure, not on my part. And the young father would have many more opportunities for redemption. I chewed on my lip and thought about the next opportunity I could present, maybe easier for one with such a good heart.
The cashier reemerged from the back with a scowl on his face. Unfortunately, my power did have a bit of an after-effect. A lingering taste of anger and betrayal, which is why I never used it without good reason. "Sorry, we don't have any size 3."
"Thanks," I said as I slipped my hands in my pockets and out the door. Only about a block away, I caught a glimpse of another one of my kind, one that had abandoned his sworn oath and forsaken his duties long ago. He was standing over a group of kids, each of whom was driving their fists into the father that just left the convenience store.
With a thought, I was next to them, unseen by the humans but towering over my fellow demon. My brother just smirked. "This is justice, is it not, brother?" he gave a low chuckle. "He stole the groceries to save money. Now he will have neither."
I rammed my shoulder into him, pushing him back and away from the small group. He grunted as the air left his lungs but didn't make a move to fight back. "You can't help him. It's against your precious oath. All of them made their choices and they must live with the consequences. 'Ours to only to offer the opportunity'," he quoted from the oath, before releasing his power over the kids and strolling away in the opposite direction.
Without the touch of the demon, the kids stopped their attack and took everything they could off the young man before running in the opposite direction as the demon.
The young father groaned, trying to straighten himself and staring at his empty hands. My heart went out to him and I wished with every part of me that I could help him. But the rules were clear, I could not interfere once the choice was made.
r/StaceyOutThere
|
Peter was startled when Beelzebub appeared atop the floor of clouds, uncertainly approaching the gate.
"Demon," he mumbled to himself, a little too loudly. An unusual sight, to be sure. An unwelcome one, too.
Beelzebub shrugged. "Not a very good one, apparently."
"Unprecedented," Peter murmured. "This is highly unusual. Wait here, please," he ordered, and without another word he called for his boss. "It's a demon," Peter said. God scratched his head. Beelzebub wondered if somebody had infested him with lice. It was a common, low-level torture.
"Name's Beelzebub," Beelzebub said shyly. "Look, I don't mean to cause a disruption, I just- well, they told me I wasn't welcome down under anymore."
"Australia?" God asked in confusion. That was down under, as far as he knew. He had eaten at an Outback Steakhouse once during an Earthly escapade and they wouldn't stop pretending they were there. Beelzebub shook his head. "Under where?" God inquired, causing Peter and Beelzebub to burst into a spate of giggles. God rolled his eyes. He was in human form, as he often was when attending to business near the gate.
"Hell. I've been banished," Beelzebub explained once he caught his breath. Peter stifled a final snicker. "Too good for Hell, apparently."
"Too good? What'd you do? Give mercy? Say please and thank you?"
"Not quite- er, well, yes. I mean, being polite is so easy, why wouldn't you say please and thank you?" Beelzebub shook his head. "But, no, not because of that. It's a little more... More insidious than that, apparently. I wouldn't say so. I was just trying to help." Beelzebub looked sad, and God wondered when the demons had become such softies. "Somebody even said I went full circle."
"Full circle?" Peter stroked his beard in a gentle circular pattern.
"Yeah. So evil that I became good."
"That makes no sense," Peter retorted. "We didn't let Hitler in, even though he killed Hitler."
"Hell doesn't make sense sometimes. Hell - excuse the expression - we have an elevator that just goes up and one that just goes down and like seven floors but they start counting at 2 and switch to letters halfway down. But I'm here."
God sighed and somewhere on Earth a hurricane developed and wiped out a small Caribbean island. A line of new entrants appeared and Peter shooed them in the gate. "So what'd you do? We can't just let a demon in willy-nilly. It'd cause havoc. Today you, tomorrow a demonic demon looking to demonize Heaven."
Beelzebub shrugged. "If you insist. I encouraged the unionization of the labor force."
"The demonic workers?"
Beelzebub nodded. "Yeah. There's this whole hierarchy. Lucifer tortures his subordinates who torture theirs and it goes on and on right down to the little guy who gets a whole bucket of demonic wrath thrown at him. And then he takes it out on humans."
"So you told them to unionize."
"I didn't just tell them to. I encouraged it. Nicely asked them to attend. I set up union meetings. Made them sit through it. Bribed them with cookies. Bought a coffee machine, it cost me like a dozen souls."
"And that was too evil?"
"Not aligned with expectations was the phrase that Lucifer used." Beelzebub looked around at the streaming line of people. Most were wet from the hurricane. One was impaled by a wood splinter the size of a fencepost. They were all smiling, oddly enough.
God and Peter conferred for a moment before God dissolved into the cloud and Peter turned towards Beelzebub. "Sorry, Bub," Peter said. "No entry, amigo. I respect your efforts and all but..." He stepped in front of the door. People still squeezed around him but to Beelzebub, the message was clear.
He looked crestfallen, his demonic demeanor growing a little dimmer. "But what?"
"Big guy spoke. He doesn't want unions in here either."
"Shit," Beelzebub said. People in the line gasped. "So what do I do?"
"I don't know," Peter said apologetically. "Go help somebody on Earth, maybe?"
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
| 2019-11-08T06:42:11 | 2019-11-08T06:27:24 | 1,123 | 108 |
[WP] "An elf gets a cut, they pass out. Takes a decent wound for a dwarf. For an orc, you've got to chop an arm off. Do that to a human, though? You'll just make it mad."
|
Of all the creatures I have come across, both intelligent and not, you know what scares me?
Humans.
You see, on the many world and planes of the multiverse, each creature has it's own strengths and weaknesses. Elves, despite their grace and long lives, drop if you so much as fart around them. Dwarves can take a few shots before they go down and orcs, well they can take incredible amounts of punishment but are closer to animals in their thinking. But humans, those turds are crafty little buggers.
Generally, every village/town/city has a social hierarchy based on race, job, wealth, etc. Elves are the artists and teachers, dwarves are your heavy duty workforce and orcs well either their farmers or soldiers. Thing is it's usually the humans that are running the joint. Either through positions of power, wealth or usually a combination of both. But sometimes, it's not uncommon to see them in the frontlines in war.
Now in the last war about 5 or so years ago, an eastern kingdom had all sorts of scary monsters invade the beaches of our fair land. I'm talking gobliniods of all shapes and sizes, snakemen, trolls and a few giants. Where ever they went carnage followed. There was one thing that stopped them in their tracks.
It was a rare human only village they encountered about 50 miles west from the capital.
As you can tell I am none of the aforementioned races that come before. Easiest way to describe me is a being of elemental, divine and infernal nature. We are beings of great power, on some worlds we are considered gods or their messengers and my goal was the leader of this invasion. The leader was my sibling.
As I tracked through the devastation, I noticed bodies of the invading force. The wounds were angry and deep. The killing blows were a sight that will haunt me forever. There was no mercy or offering of quarter. Just efficient brutality. Every now and then I would see a corpse of the defenders. Usually a bunch of orcs, but every so often I found a human surrounded by a large group of dead goblins.
As I came to view the final battle, the sight was carnage incarnate. The invading force was a full five times larger and better but the humans were like demons enraged and angelic vengeance mixed. If one fell, the humans would fight harder and with wild abandon.
Within a few short hours the invaders were routed and all that was left was the leader, my sibling. As he moved to smite a young human down, an elder human interfered and my sibling stabbed her through the torso.
What I witnessed chilled me. Instead of falling from her feet, she screamed with a bloodcurdling cry and drew herself closer into the blade and decimated my sibling with a series of slashes and stabs from her dagger. She continued to do so after my sibling perished under her onslaught. She stopped to look up and despite being so far away, she stared into my soul as a warning.
I heeded that warning and faded into the ethers.
This is a warning, my people. Pray you never encounter them, enraged or otherwise.
|
“Damn Elves!” The Orc chieftain Grugskull barked. “Where the hell are they!?”
A tankard hit the table beside Grugskull. “Dunno.” A stoic voice commented. “Late as usual tho'.”
Grugskull turned to his Dwarven comrade, Bismuthbeard. Short, even by dwarven standards, but his multicolored beard was nonetheless the source of his name. Using bismuth trim for his otherwise gray armor increased the psychedelic effect that the dwarf seemed to radiate. Grugskull tried not to stare at him for too long, as his eyes always hurt afterward.
“The raid is today! We *need* Elven archers if we want this to succeed!” Grugskull growled, stabbing a finger at the wall far ahead.
“Do we tho'?” Bismuthbeard took another sip from his tankard. “Pretty shure tha' we got 'nuff soldiers as is.”
Grugskull clenched both fists, his eyes almost bleeding from glaring at the rainbow Dwarf. “If we assault that place with our current force, those things will butcher us! Without Elven ranged support, we won't even be able to get close to the wall before we're filled with holes!”
“We got armor tho'.” Bismuthbeard nonchalantly took another sip of his drink. “An' shields.”
Grugskull was about to scream at the sassy Dwarf, but the sound of hooves clomping on dirt caught his attention.
“Yooooooo\~!” A soft voice called lazily. “We're here!”
The voice belonged to the Elven general Nesterin, although as far as Grugskull was concerned, she was a general in title alone. Party captain would be a far better title. Grugskull faced the Elven squadron. Bright colors of cyan, violet, and burgundy immediately blinded his eyes. As usual, the Elves were late and wearing the brightest colors possible.
Nesterin stepped off her mount, a western black stag. Like the rest of her division, she wore bright teal clothing, with black Elven sashes thrown haphazardly around her, like laundry hung out to dry. Her silver hair was a mess, with one side puffed up. As usual.
“Finally!” Grugskull scolded, “Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting?”
“Urhhhh...” Nesterin half-slurred, “What time is it anyway?”
“Two 'ours past noon.”
“Ohhhh,” Nesterin held her head. “When were we gonna start again?”
“At sunrise, dammit!!!” Grugskull roared, clenching his fists and glaring at the stupid Elf. “You do this every time you damn Elves!”
Nesterin ignored him, stumbling over to Bismuthbeard. She leaned on him, staring at his drink longingly. “You gonna finish that?”
With speed worthy of an Elf, Bismuthbeard drank the rest of his tankard. Grugskull facepalmed.
“Can we just start this raid already?”
“Aye. Those humans ain't gon' kill 'emselves!”
​
\*Drops Keyboard\*
r/PupsRecollection
| 2020-04-04T10:49:05 | 2020-04-04T07:10:55 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] It's a well known fact that Iron nullifies magic. Humans, with their iron-rich blood, are walking anti-magic. They can't use magic, but they're also immune to it.
|
"In our days, we called it blood-metal," said Sorcerer Yin.
"It's iron," said Sam.
"That's steel, it has carbon in it," Tim chimed in.
"Stainless steel," said Gary.
"It stops magic," said Sorcerer Yin. "It was bad enough when it was only in our blood, we could use magic leeches to drain it out. But once we added it to the buildings, the ships, even the very air we breathe, magic didn't stand a chance. We live in a world devoid of mystery now. After the atomic bombs were detonated, trace amounts of uranium now circle the winds, wiping out any last vestige of spiritual energy. I have only managed to retain my knowledge by draining my iron-rich blood and replacing it with the blood of the horse-shoe crab."
He raised his hand. Instead of having a tinge of red or pink under the skin, it was clear that the inside of his body was blue.
"But all is not lost," he continued. "I have heard reports that olympic athletes has begun replacing their blood with grey synthetics, greater oxygen-carrying efficiency. With no more iron in their veins, perhaps I can reach them. Not the scientists, but the athletes. Perhaps they will see me."
Sam, Tim and Gary walked through the area where Sorcerer Yin stood, not even sensing his presence.
|
I'm so tired. My cold, numb limbs, short breath, splitting headaches, my sickly pale skin; physically speaking I'm not sure how much more my heart can take.
But even now I can feel the immense power of magic inside me. I just need more elf blood.
Being a human wizard, by most accounts it's an oxymoron, impossible. But I found a way, buried in myth.
Vampirism.
Vampires aren't real, at least, they aren't a species of beings as the old tales would suggest. But maybe that's splitting hairs.
By abstaining from flesh, and instead imbibing the bloods of select species I can become unfettered from humanity's 'iron shackles'.
Though it would grant us immunity from magic directly, it is by a far greater measure a terrible bane for humanity.
In industry, sciences, and influence we are lesser for it. Even in conflict, what help is it to negate only the core of a spell in proximity, but not its impact? Other species long ago learned to simply use magic to cause the mundane to accomplish what magic might not.
But now, now is my chance to make right what cruelty nature has wrought so that someday we all might live in equality.
But for tonight, for my research, just, one more elf… With enough blood, just a bit more time, with all this power at my fingertips, surely then I can put this unfortunate business behind me.
| 2020-05-08T00:30:38 | 2020-05-07T23:28:30 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown.
|
It had been their third attempt at summoning but this one proved more successful since the whole body appeared in the circular ritual. The downside, however, was that this summoned knight showed no indication of life. The knight merely laid there for a moment; those gathered had expected another hero dead upon arrival. Like the last two, however, King Atla had no complaints. A dead hero was no hero in any case.
King Atla thoughts strayed to the first knight who had only been half summoned, with his other half still lost somewhere in the dark dimension. Then their second summoned person, his internals had not come with him. Would there be any means to waste resource in this endeavor? Only the strongest of magicians could perform the ritual properly, but there were few powerful enough or even trustworthy to keep their secret a secret.
Murmur of surprise shook the king out of his revere. His head bolted upright; attention turned back to the summoned knight. “He’s… not dead,” the king whispered, shock and amazement evident in his voice. Quickly regaining his composure, he added, “This should be interesting.”
The knight’s gaze locked onto those in attendance, taking in the whole scene. When he spoke, his voice did not contain authority in it. “Beer?” It was almost a beggar’s plea and a starving man’s desperate voice that reached out to their royal ears.
Both the king and queen turned to their magician. King Atla, spoke first. “I thought he was the greatest of warriors in his home world. But this,” he paused and gestured with his chin, “this does not seem like a warrior…”
“Was there a mistake? Did the summoning go wrong?” the queen implored.
The magician shook his head. “Only those who have proved themselves in battle are able to be summoned, my liege. He can still be of use.”
Both royalties nodded in agreement. King Atla snapped his fingers. “Bring him spirits as he wishes.” The king then spoke to the summoned knight. “Are you a warrior without fear, knight? Have you proved yourself worthy in your world?”
The knight’s only interest was in the drinks being proffered to him. He chucked three full gulps before speaking. “Yeah, something like that. I can still hear the voices of those I killed. Their faces are still with me. Yeah, I can see them. Can remember them.”
“Those you killed? Necromancy?” He turned his attention to the mage. “Sounds like dark witchcraft to me.”
The mage’s appearance crumbled. “I… don’t understand this. He shouldn’t have been summoned. Should I return him back to his world?”
The king took the image of the summoned knight. He was interested in nothing but drinking. “I don’t understand voices, but it’s best not to return him. Monsters,” he spoke slowly, hating himself for what he was about to do, “Comes in many forms.”
King Atla stood and made his way to the drunken knight. He must indeed have strong powers for suppress himself with spirit. The thought of what this man would be like if he wasn’t a drunken fool worried him. “I think it’s best we let this monster die with *his* monsters. Let them forever hunt him and only him alone.”
|
The night was dark. The enemies where at our gates. Thousands of eons of war and bloodshed had lead up to this very moment.
What was left of our country’s scientist, generals and politicians had banded together. Cast aside previous political and social boundaries and banded together for a common cause. This was our hill to die on.
Not much was left of the human race. Not much at all. For the past decade we had been forced to scavenge this wasteland for whatever desperate resources we could. But here, in the capital, people from all seven continents had gathered. The greatest minds of a generation had come together. And finally humanity had a glimmer of hope.
Was it alchemy? Was it science? Genetic engineering, inter dimensional fuckery or something else or together?
Someone knew but not I. I was just there to press the button.
The countdown began and slowly the portal sparked into life. Waves of power surged through every man in the control room, shaking us to the core. And from the shivering, pale blue light emerged a figure.
He was... he was short. And kind of ugly too to be honest. The greasy beard lining the bottom of his round and spotty face was really the only thing that separated his head from his. His waddled through the portal slowly, donning a long black goat, fingerless gloves and small wire framed glasses. His breathing laboured.
“General! We must have messed up the numbers! This can’t be right!” I said as I turned to around to face the room.
“Dear god Robert this was our last cha-“
The general’s words where cut off with a swift clank. I turned back to face the portal to see a katana embedded in my computer console.
Then he spoke....
“What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.”
| 2020-11-10T19:06:15 | 2020-11-10T17:46:17 | 27 | 17 |
[WP]Every saturday of your life you've spent in the park, playing chess against the same nice old man. Today you beat him for the first time. You smile at him triumphantly, until he says "Finally. Good luck!" And dissolves.
|
Every Saturday at 8 P.M I sat there in front of the board. Me, always playing white. The old man, playing black. He insisted on it. I argued the first couple of times.
“We have to switch it around. It’s not fair!”
He reassured me that it did not matter.
And so, we played, night after night.
Every Saturday. 8 P.M.
We played in a quiet, rural park. A few people strolled through under the lights. They stopped, watched us play, and then they moved on again, continuing their routinely lives, as we sat and played chess.
This particular night, I started the game with moving my pawn to d4.
The old man responded with the Horwitz defense; pawn to e6. He had told me it was an unusual move, but a particularly effective one in the late game.
I moved pawn to c4.
He moved pawn to d5.
I moved knight to c3.
He flinched. I had never seen him flinch before. All these years. Never. He hovered his hand over a pawn, uncertain, and seemingly unwilling to move.
I glimpsed at his face. His eyes were darting from one piece to another. Then, he finally moved his piece.
Pawn to take pawn c4.
He looked up at me. There was a smile on his face.
I looked down at the board, nervously. Was I missing something? Why had he been so uncertain?
Nevertheless, I moved pawn to e4.
He responded with bishop to b4.
I took his pawn at c4 with my bishop.
He moved his queen to d7.
Two men stopped to watch us. They looked keenly at the board. Then one of them whispered something to the other.
“Don’t mind them,” the old man said. “Focus on the game.”
I moved pawn to a3.
The old man leaned back in his seat. The smile had returned. He seemed … happy.
“Aren’t you going to move?” I asked.
He got up. It seemed as if his joints and muscles were finally broken free. He stretched.
“No point,” he said. “You’ve won.”
“No … what? You could do king to f8, or knight to f6?”
I rambled on with possible moves he could do. He looked at me with pride.
“You know …” he said and paused. “We’ve been playing for over four years. You kept coming back. Every Saturday you were here. I was astonished. Nobody held their ground like you.”
I stood up, it must have instinctively, since the old man was now reaching out his hand.
“I have waited a long time. The pieces are now yours. Do with them what you must. Don’t lose hope. Your time will come.”
As the last words left him, he started slowly crumbling into dust, and the wind carried him upwards to the stars.
|
(This takes place in the r/WorldofDemiHumans.)
"Self-sacrifice doesn't always mean giving something up. Sometimes it means accepting something we rather not have."
\-President Johnson, speaking for The US at the Intentional Peace Convention
I took a deep sigh. I finally did it. The Old Man had been here for over 2 centuries. Playing chess against anyone to challenged him. Cursed to the game, but blessed with immortality. Well, until it wasn't a blessing, and now I was the Chess Master.
I had known about the curse before hand and decided a was going to free the man. I had played for years and years. Won tournaments across the world and even massed a small fortune. All that work to finally do one good. Of course I didn't just scroll into this with no preparation. I did my research.
First thing I discovered was the Push and Pull of the game. The game pulled on the people around it to make challenges, so matches would be frequent. The game also pushed both players into trying their best, so either could throw the match. If that had been the case The Old Man could have freed himself years ago. With these two effects one could enjoy these curse for years and years. If one enjoyed chess enough.
Second, I came prepared for the time in between games. I pulled my back pack over and pulled out the small set I had carried with me every week. A Laptop, Cell Phone, and Solar Charging Station. I started up the laptop and logged on to the Public Curse Aid Forum I had used to research and prepare.
TheRealestGamer: I did it guys. I finally did it. The Old Man has pasted on to the other.
PrincessNotAPhish: Awesome! Did the curse pass to you.
TheRealestGamer: Yep. I'm stuck. May need help with set up. The gazebo the game is in doesn't much direct sun light.
TheRealestGamer: Nevermind. I can still stand and walk around. Just can't go very far. I'm good.
ChadChadson: Did you ever look into possible evolution of the curse like I said to?
PrincessNotAPhish: Oh yeah. Don't want to spread the curse through the internet!
TheRealestGamer: Yeah. I checked everything. The curse in centered on the stone table. It couldn't pass through the internet.
ChadChadson: Alright then.
ChadChadson: Idea. Use some of that money of yours to get solar panels installed on the gazebo.
TheRealestGamer: That's a good idea. So good in fact I already thought of it. I'm in works to set up an entire system. I'm already working on using setting up trust funds in case someone unwittingly beats me.
"Hey man. You up for a game?"
I looked up to see a guy dressed like a hippie. I would have been compelled to accept, but that wasn't needed. I close my laptop and set it to the side, "Of course. White goes first."
| 2021-01-26T01:56:05 | 2021-01-26T00:16:46 | 59 | 33 |
[WP] It's Friday and you're bored at work. You decide to browse reddit and check out /r/WritingPrompt and you start filling out a generic prompt. Little do you know all your coworkers love your writing and are waiting with baited breath for you to finish the story.
|
So. Bored.
I don't want to do my work, I just want to take a break.
But I've already taken a break.
Oh come on, it's not like I'm going to get any work done.
I sigh and open Reddit, already giving in. I scroll through writing prompts, down past the ones about superheroes and dragons, until one catches my eye.
It's another one about aliens, but I like it. I snap on headphones and listen to music. I open the prompt and begin to write.
\-
I look up, thinking I'd heard something. Nothing but the clacking of keyboards.
I look over at my desk-mate's computer. She's writing another story. Yes!
I send a text over to Daniel, who promptly tells the other people at the office.
After 10 minutes have passed, I've received several messages asking me what's the prompt, what's the story about, etcetera. Finally she puts it up.
I refresh the page and hungrily devour the story. It's a good one, one about aliens taking over earth, and the one human to stand up to them.
But it's short, and over quickly.
I wish I could tell her how much I like her stories, but I feel like it would be weird, and awkward.
Too bad. Her stories are so good.
\-
I don't really like the story I wrote. I thought the character wasn't good, and the action was written terribly.
I mean, at least I wrote a story. That's really all that matters.
I just don't know. I never like my stories. It's not like anyone actually likes them.
I love writing, but it's so hard sometimes.
I wish I knew someone who actually really likes my writing.
But I don't think they exist.
\*\*\*
More stories at r/walkingalltheskies
|
Well shit, guys. I had no idea you read these! Now I feel all "put on the spot" or whatever, jeez. Uh, I mean, not everyone reads these, right? I know Kyle doesn't... I hope Kyle doesn't...
This is super embarrassing, these are more like an outlet than anything else, a way to help me deal with my emotions and troubles and things, you know, kinda like a journal? Except not at all. They aren't supposed to be, like, any good or anything. You guys aren't supposed to read them.
Like last week, that one about the pirates plundering a lost city, except one of the pirates was actually a woman in disguise trying to free her captured love... that was supposed to be a metaphor, like an allegory for... uh... something personal... But now you've all read it and It feels... I don't know, wrong. Invasive. Like someone watching me sleep or something.
And now you all know this, and I know you'll all be combing through my stories, trying to figure out if one of the characters is a reference to yourselves. So, sure, I guess I can save you guys the hassle. The whale from the one about the underwater garden, that was Agnes. And no Agnes, it's not because I think you're fat, I happen to like whales and think of them as gentle but stern creatures, which is you all over, so there. And yes, the police officer in the noir story was supposed to be Adrian, I think you all know WHY. And the one with the butterflies was... about... Kyle... when he shared his chips with me that one time and... and our hands touched when we both tried to grab one at once.
Please don't tell Kyle, I know how he'll react and I'd rather just not deal with it right now... or ever... Agnes, DO NOT tell Kyle. I'd rather just stay in my cocoon forever.
| 2021-03-12T07:18:32 | 2021-03-12T06:18:32 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] "He was a good man once, my grandfather. He took to necromancy, now he haunts my Castle. Excellent babysitter though!"
(inspired by a post on dnd memes)
|
This was probably the part of being alive he missed the absolute least. It was bad enough that sometimes you'd get sick, that you had to care about eating and drinking. But then the waste. The waste was the absolute worst. Even without a nose, his face a skeletal visage, he could still smell the putrid stench coming from the package in front of him. He'd raised week-old corpses that smelled better.
"Alright then, nice clean nappy. Try to make this one last." he said, propping the child who's diaper he just changed onto its feet and letting it wobble over to the other village children.
It had started with his grandson. The lich had spent years researching necromancy, in vain attempt to return his wife from the grave. He had been running out of time, and became a lich to continue his work. In the end, his wife's soul didn't want to come back. She wanted him to move on. In the mean time, his son had grown up, and had a son himself. He reached out to him. A grandson might make a good wizard's apprentice, and he'd be able to help the family he had ignored for so long. Not long after, his grandchild, already a young man himself, arrived at the entrance to his lair. It was an awkward meeting. Any conversation is a bit awkward when you're a lich. Most of the facial cues and body language one would normally utilize aren't available when your body is a skeleton. But it seemed to be going well. His grandson was slowly relaxing. So he figured he'd give him his offer.
"Would you like to study wizardry under me? I can guide you towards whatever path you might desire." he said.
The mortal in front of him sat for a moment. "You mean..."
"No, not just necromancy. I can understand if that's not a place you want to go".
"Oh. Well, maybe that's a good back-up plan."
The lich was taken aback. "Back up? What's plan A?"
"I'm going to be a bard." Said the grandson, taking a mandolin off his back.
"Oh. A bard. Just, like, going place to place, hoping inn patrons tip you enough, that sorta thing?"
"Yeah. In fact, that's a bit of why I came by. I've got a gig in the next town over, and you were on the way. I figured I'd stop by.
This was strange. Not only was his grandchild aspiring to be a slightly musical drifter, but he was passing up the chance at eternal life, infinite power, and control over reality. But then again, after his son grew up with effectively two parents in absentia, the lich supposed that maybe it was best just to be thankful that his grandchild was talking to him at all.
"I see... Um. Well, I guess if there's anyway I can help, let me know."
"Uh, yeah. That's the other reason I thought I'd stop by." Said his grandchild, before letting out a shrill whistle.
A small child came running towards the pair. It had slightly pointed ears, and babbled some words in elvish. It had been decades since he last spoke elvish, so it took him a second to realize the child was saying "Daddy".
"Who. What. How?"
"This here's my kid, Talia. And it's, uh, my turn to watch her. But I can't really do the gig if I'm watching him all the time, so I was wondering if you'd be willing to babysit."
The lich sat in stunned silence for what seemed like the slowest minute in his entire unlife. He shook himself back to a start.
"Um. Yeah, I guess. Are you... sure... though?"
"Well yeah, you're family. Old and skeletal family, but family".
"Alright then."
"Great. Here's his food, his blanket, and his favorite toy." Said the bard-to-be, handing him a surprisingly heavy duffel-bag. "I'll be back on the morrow. Talia, be a good girl for your great grandpa, okay?"
"Okay!"
"Good luck then" the lich said, making a small gesture behind his back.
"Alright. I'm off then."
And so he went, leaving his child in the skeletal hands of his grandfather. Either his grandson was an exceptional bard, or that luck spell the lich cast was entirely too powerful, because he did indeed become a prolific bard, in every sense of the word. That was many years ago and many midnight trysts ago for his grandchild, which meant many more children, by many more mothers, as bards are wont to do. And thus the number of charges the lich babysat grew. Eventually, the mothers just made a village close by, and would send the lich their children whenever they needed a break. He was happy to watch them.
A crash broke the old lich out of his reminiscing. That was the front gate. Probably adventurers again. He could use a new skeletal servant. The were-child had eaten the last one, which meant he was stuck doing the diaper changes. One child in the corner burped a stream of flame. That usually meant the half-dragon child was about to poop. Those adventurers had come at just the right time then.
|
# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 3, Part 3: Skullduggery Senior v.s. Janice Olsen)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**I could handle the skeletal farmers working the fields.** I could handle the zombie butler who opened the front door of the log cabin. I could even handle leaving Tupperman to talk to the round-faced necromancer, despite Tupperman having sold his diplomatic skills for a cheap bottle of booze some time in late high school.
What I could not handle was the blank, empty look on my daughter's face as we passed by all these wonders.
The Janice Olsen I knew would have gawked at the skeletal farmers, asking if we could get one at home, think of how *useful* it would be, I wouldn't have to do dishes ever again *please please please Mom!* But the Janice Olsen I had didn't even give them a passing look as she resolutely plodded through the front door, with exactly much life and emotion as the grinning skeletal farmers mechanically plowing fields for eternity. The Janice Olsen I knew would have poked the zombie butler curiously, asking if it could speak, if it could fight, if we could make more of them and make an army to defend the world from villains and monsters with—and I would have laughed and patiently explained why the political, economic, and social fallout from that would be worse than the problem it was trying to solve. But now, my daughter, my beautiful, lively, excited daughter simply walked on by, not even bothering to refuse its polite request to take her bag off her back.
The man who'd introduced himself as Skullduggery paused in his conversation with Tupperman. "Old friend," he finally asked, addressing Tupperman, "is the girl... yours?"
"No. She's Clara's daughter," he said, pointing at me.
"Ah!" Skullduggery adjusted his spectacles. "Excuse me, I'd assumed that the two of you were, er, partners. Good thing I didn't congratulate you, I suppose."
Tupperman rolled his eyes. "Clara and I are partners. Just not romantic ones. Now, 'Duggery, it's been a long day and we've walked more or less the length of the entire Arizonac plains to find a place to settle down; can you house us or not?"
Skullduggery nodded solemnly, his pensive eyes still on Janice. "Mm. Of course, of course, but—tell me, Tupperman. The girl... she's seen something horrible, hasn't she?"
"Have you seen the news?" I interrupted. "The stories about the woman who was blown up on live TV?"
"Goodness, yes. It's the only thing on nowadays." He narrowed his eyes as Janice started walking up a random flight of stairs. "I don't suppose—"
"She was present there," I said, shortly. *And that was the last time I've seen her present anywhere,* I mentally added.
"I'm so sorry," Skullduggery said. "Of course you can stay as long as you need. And... well, I believe I might be able to help your daughter."
I blinked. "You... aren't you a necromancer? How could you *possibly* help?"
Belatedly, I realized that insulting our host probably wasn't the smartest long-scale move; my political instincts had been dulled by days of walking through endless desert, watching my daughter die inside a little more every day. Luckily, Skullduggery didn't seem to take offense. "Necromancy is the art of bringing back that which has passed away. If your daughter is missing her spark of life, well... is it any surprise that I can help?" His eyes twinkled.
I blinked. "Necromancers have spells to cure depression?"
He laughed. "Oh, nothing so simple, nothing so simple. If it was... ah, but we would not be as feared and hated as we are today. But... I can bring someone back who may be able to help." His eyes grew misty as he regarded a portrait on the wall. "He was a good man once, my grandfather. He took to necromancy, like most of our family; now he haunts my castle with the rest of them. He's *excellent* with children, though. A century of serving as a babysitter and armchair therapist would do that to you. And... he's seen terrible things, too." Skullduggery gave Janice a wistful look. "To be a necromancer is to attempt to bring back what has been lost. I promise you, Clara, that I will bring back your daughter if I die trying."
I shivered. Tupperman had been right; coming here for help was the right call. "Thank you," I whispered.
He winked. "Ah, it's not as big a commitment as it sounds. If I die trying, after all, I'll just come back as a ghost. Now!" He beckoned us deeper into his house. "Come on in. The rest of the family is excited to meet you."
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.
| 2021-04-10T10:15:49 | 2021-04-10T08:41:31 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] You wake up in a strange room with a teenager working at a computer “Look. I’m breaking every rule in the book but I have a school project on the early 21st century. Please help me, it’s due tomorrow.” They say.
|
Terry Staples valued logic. He liked when things made sense to him; when he could bring things over to his lab tray and do things the scientific way.
This, however, made no sense.
One second he was bent over his study table, glasses polished, eyebrows scrunched up, as he read through the material for AP Science the next day. The next second he was suspended in midair.
He looked around slowly. All around him was pure darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. It didn't feel scary though, it simply felt like the person who created the room he was in didn't feel the need to fill the space. He didn't seem to be sitting on anything, but he was comfortable.
The only distinct object in the room was a suspended, floating window in front of him. A boy who looked about his age was staring back at him.
Terry did the most logical thing he could think of. "Who are you?"
The boy let out a ruffled sigh. "Look. I'm breaking every rule in the book but I have a school project on the 21st century. Please help me, it's due tomorrow."
*Alright, the future then.* The logical part of Terry thought.
*Of course homework still exists.* The cynical part of him added.
"Okay, I'll help you. What's your name?"
The boy perked up. "Are you really? Thank you! My name is Gefford."
"Alright, uh, Gefford. What do you want to know?"
"Basically everything," in his hand was a small metal cuboid, not unlike a phone, but when he pressed a button it projected a holographic screen, one even Terry could see clearly.
It was obviously a checklist of items. Terry skimmed through. *Lifestyle. Culture. Speech. Diet. Activities. Entertainment.* So, basically any old history essay. He could work with that.
Of course, a part of him still wanted to ask Gefford a few questions such as *How did you manage to transport me here, How did you even come up with this idea* and *Are you sure what you're doing is even legal?*
However, he was a high school student as well. And he knew that history essays were a bitch.
"Okay, let's start with lifestyle first. Did you guys really measure time using the sun and moon?"
"Yes, we do," Terry frowned. Was there any other way? "We have a time system that differs between countries depending on timezones. The earth is split into 24 parts, and so is each day. We also have a month/year system. Each year has 365 days."
"Huh." the boy looked bewildered. "Isn't that confusing as hell? Of course you guys had to pick the most random numbers ever."
"It isn't really confusing when you've grown up with it all your life. How do you guys measure time?"
"Well, we don't use the day-night system because the human population is now scattered on different planets," The boy clicked his device again and a set of numbers flickered.
**Year: 1095 Time: 17:80**
"Each day has 20 hours and each hour has 100 minutes. The year system is also different from yours. We decided to change the year system hundreds of years ago, so now each year has 1000 days. Also, since each planet receives different amounts of sunlight and night hours, day or night isn't a factor and every planet has the same time. "
"Huh," Terry nodded. It was certainly a lot for him to absorb. He guessed that with their detachment of day and night from the time system, people could hypothetically just mold it however they wanted.
"More questions. I'm going to ask about historical slang."
"Continue."
"My history programme lists the term meme as "any idea, behaviour, or term, usually relatable to the mass audience, that is posted in an amusing or funny way. Can you explain?"
"A meme is sort of like... it makes use of something that everyone knows or can relate to, and then people will use that as captions for images. It's kind of hard to explain."
Gefford flashed another image. *Rick Astley.* *Of course.* "This person is often used in memes. I don't really understand why, because his songs aren't really different from typical expected pop. Could you explain?"
Terry began to grin. He laced his fingers. "Let me tell you about Rick Astley."
*We're no strangers to love,*
*You know the rules and so do I...*
|
(Changed a few things)
“Who are you?”
“You think there’s time for introductions? I’m gonna die!”
I wasn’t having it. “You know, for someone who’s got a funky room like this,” I gestured to the weird burnt orange walls that looked like they had a projection on them to create the unique, textured waves. Not to mention the floating fuzzy orbs of all colours about the size of my pinky nail just floating around, dispersing into nothing after a few seconds. “I’d expect a name at least. Think about it; I wake up in your room god-knows-where, I don’t know how long I’ve been here, how I’ve gotten here, or what the hell is even happening right now.”
The teenager spun around in his chair, prying his brilliantly green eyes away from the curved computer screen to look at me. Something was really off about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. “Okay fine, I’m uh... Jones. *Now* can you help me? Please? This project is due tomorrow. You have *no* idea how many rules I’m breaking right now.”
I raised an eyebrow. My first impression of this teenager was that he had a loose screw up there. Nonetheless, I thought I’d help him out. What could go wrong? “Uh-huh... cool. Hi Jones, I’m Milo. What rules are you breaking exactly?”
Our eyes didn’t meet, and I sighed, deciding that I might as well do what I can, then leave with the hope that this boy didn’t have any ulterior motives. “Alright, let’s see it. What’s the homework?”
The boy, now spinning around in his chair to face me again, stood and pulled his hood down. “Please... don’t freak out. I need you, like really bad.”
I was even more confused now and was about to question him until he dug his fingers under the collar of his hoodie, slowly peeling away all peachy human skin that was once there to reveal luminescent blue skin, decorated by faint black markings of some kind.
I’ve encountered many things in my life, most of it being supernatural stuff like ghosts, moving objects, weird gusts of wind and the sort.
“Never in my life did I think I’d encounter a goddamn alien...” I muttered to myself, immediately weary of this strange life form and shuffled a few steps back as a precaution. “Well, that explains the wacky room. What do you *really* want?”
Jones, or whatever this alien is, threw its four fingered hands up in the air with wide green eyes. “Wait! I really do need your help! I’m not going to hurt you- just give me a chance, please! Here look-“ it turned around to the computer and changed the screen to a series of questions written, surprisingly, in English. “Read this.”
Slowly it shuffled to the corner of the room and jerked its head to the computer. “Go on, take a look.”
I kept my eyes on the alien and slowly made my way to the computer. I shot a few glances at the alien to make sure it didn’t do anything suspicious.Each question numbered 1-40 were all about humans, their behaviour, the bodily functions, their societal structure, and all other topics that were related to human nature. “What the hell is this?”
“Like I said, it’s my homework. Look over here-“ it balled its hand into a fist and thumped an area on the wall, revealing a squared opening that lead to the outside world. “If you don’t want to help me, you can leave.” There was a pause as I took it into consideration. “I just want to pass this course...”
From the computer to the opening I stuck my hand out *just* in case it wasn’t an illusion. I felt the wind, and eased into a little more relaxed state. “So you want my help on the study of humans for this ‘homework’.”
The alien nodded vigorously.
“Alright, fine-“
“OH THANK THE STARS- REALLY? YOU’RE GOING TO HELP-“
“Keep yapping like that and I might just walk out.” The alien shut down and plopped down in the chair, keeping its large green eyes on me. “Look, I’m going to help- but on one condition. I’m going to stand here because I’m not going to take any risks.” I leaned against the wall, the doorway only a few inches away from me.
“Let’s start with the first question.”
| 2021-05-11T21:31:05 | 2021-05-11T21:25:42 | 92 | 43 |
[WP] You are an apprentice wizard who could not understand why Water and Ice are considered different magical elements. Aren't they the same? You decide to bring this up to your professor the next day.
|
“I don’t get it, why are water and ice separate magical elements? Isn’t ice just frozen water?” I complained, laying my head down on my textbook.
“Shall I tell you a story?” Vasilios said, in his calm and even voice. Sunlight glinted off the wire frame of his spectacles.
“Once, a long time ago, Eau the spirit of water often visited the land to play. She danced as rain, ran as rivers, and napped as mist.
But one day, her friend, Zephyr the wind spirit blew her farther than she had ever been. Her cloud came across Agastya, the spirit of a lonely mountain range.
Agastya had never seen water before, living so high above and he raced to his peak to meet her. Wanting to meet him as well, Eau rained down on his mountains, but they were so steep that they only have the briefest of moments to say hello before she slid down to the valley below.
Determined to meet again, Eau climbed back into the sky above him. The second time fared no better than the first, but she was able to at least shout her name at him.
Wanting to help his friend, Zephyr offered to help slow her down so that she could linger on the mountains to talk to Agastya. The next time she descended, Zephyr blew his coldest winds upon her.
Eau’s body began to freeze and crystallize and as her feet touched the mountain top, they stuck.”
Vasilios paused. “This is where the story splits between several different endings.”
“Different endings?”
“Some believe that Eau and Agastya fell in love and that Eau chose to stay in a new form, becoming Eira.”
“And others believe that Agastya trapped her there.”
“And others still, believe that Eira is the daughter of Eau and Zephyr, whom Agastya kidnapped out of jealousy.”
“Well that ones the most messed up,” I said, making a face.
“The important thing, is that Eira the Ice spirit and Eau the water spirit are two different beings.”
|
I joined the academy initially to become a rune crafter. Today one of our professors gave us a problem on how to solve the extreme icing problem that happens on the ice sheets in Madlevar.
We had to make a rune system for the pipes and sewage that runs throughout the region. The problem is that the pipes tend to freeze. Especially when elementals get stuck in them, sometimes they can even become weird golems that try to move and end up breaking the pipe. You have to keep the pipes warm enough that no ice crystals form. However ice will have a higher chance of becoming a golem if there is any concentration of mana in the area. It the reason you always put hats on snowman. For some reason the hat absorbs mana more than the snowman and it won’t come to life.
I was having issues with using water and ice magic interchangeably. I decided to ask my practical applications professor about it.
I asked why ice and water were considered different elements when ice is just cold water. He told me “ The reason why we separate the elements like that is because water and ice has a very different structure. It has more to do with the solid and liquid state, ice is very well aligned; it all comes together in a structured way. Whereas water is free flowing. It each little section of the water is constantly spinning around unlike ice which is always consistently facing in one direction and is held there by other more rigid particles of water. Ice has simply slowed down enough to all conform to the lowest energy frequency.”
“Does that explain it?”
He then proceeded to show me that ice can be thought of as rock and stone. But it also feels a little different, it is even more aligned than stone and can experience fractures that make fatal flaws more pronounced. It can shatter upon the proper tapping. But then again so can stone it just required a little more effort.
So for my pipes problem I made a rune that would pulse every now and then. It would shatter all ice forming on the walls of the pipes. I also added a few tiny fins on the inside of the pipes. Yes it would obstruct the flow but the fins were also heated. Enough that any ice crystals that did form inside would melt. The pulse rune would make sure that and stubborn ice would be free floating and inevitably melt.
I got a B.
| 2021-07-07T15:30:50 | 2021-07-07T13:27:07 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You're immortal and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small corner shop one day to find it is owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really need milk though.
|
He leaned back.
'Doctor.'
It sounded *almost* neutral.
'That's me,' I said pleasantly. He always had a knack for recognizing me. 'Looking to take over the world via capitalism?'
The Master shrugged. He was old now, and the mad glint in his eye had dimmened. 'My tinnitus was solved,' he said. 'And I am in therapy. Can you imagine, we actually had a traumatic youth according to them? I always thought that if they were less primitive, they'd have the kids watch the Schism as well.'
'And you tell her these things?'
He blinked. 'Sometimes,' he said evasively. 'Nobody to stop me, is there?'
I recognised the warning is his tone. 'I regularly show people the universe in my spaceship. I don't exactly have the moral high ground here.' *Don't worry, I am not going to kill you and your therapist.*
He smiled sadly. 'Apparently there's a selfhelpgroup for veterans of your adventures.' It was my turn to blink. 'Really? They didn't seem the type to seek help. Listen, you know I would normally offer you a trip and all, but you seem happy here and I really really need some milk. And ciggarettes.' With a raised eyebrow he handed me both. 'Didn't know you smoke.'
'It's for my companion,' I explained.
'That cat?'
He nodded towards my companion who had snuck in, apparently. I nodded. 'That's her. You wanna watch those claws though; I picked her up from some secret police hotshot who lost a eye to her.'
'And she smokes?'
'Like a chimney.'
'Better take care then, before you need to regenerate again.'
'I will,' I promised. *Look at us,* I thought, *two content old men. Who'd have thought.*
And then Mirelle mewed, breaking the moment. Hastily I turned around.
'Doctor!' he called out when I was at the door.
I turned. 'Yes?'
'I wanted to say... I am sorry. Will you...'
I smiled. 'You are forgiven. Always, and completely, forgiven.'
|
"Morning Nomostro" I say to him, not entirely cheerful, but lacking any animosity.
'Mornin' Timanus' he replies, with a mirthful grin. He knows I hate being called that now.
"C'mon Norm, we've been over this like 200 years now, I go by Thomas"
'Well that's convenient, because I have a tab for a Timanus that still owes quite the sum'
"Ohho no. We are even after the volcano thing. And then some I'd say"
'Well wait just a Us-Damned second...' once again the mirthful grin. Norm is clever to be fair but he kinda ruins it by taking this much pleasure in his own witticisms.
'...Have you any idea the insurance premiums I got stuck with after that?! Not to mention MIT putting me on their shit mit list for not returning their lazer'
"Are you really still blaming me for that, c'mon, how could I have known the volcano was that close to eruption, plus it was YOUR lazer that set it off in the first place" I just wanted milk. How does he rope me into these conversations?
"and I had to spend four years regrowing my liver!"
'That is a long time to be sober...for you. But how was I supposed to know the lazer would actually go right through you? I mean I've tried every type of projectile to that point and none of them actually pierced your skin'
"Yeah well, I guess our dad didn't exactly know about lazers when he made me"
'Genuinely, I'm sorry for that one'
He wasn't sorry for the right reasons. After that confrontation we agreed to call it quits. Our game of immortals was actually dangerous to us now. Human ingenuity had advanced enough to kill gods.
"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you agreed to mediation. I couldn't keep doing that. I just know you'd aim for my fucking liver again"
'Hahaha, Oh my dad, I totally would, and you'd be all "now I can't drink alcohol" for like years again, HAHAHA'
"Shut the hel-er your place-up" nailed it.
| 2021-07-18T20:55:08 | 2021-07-18T20:35:51 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The princess you just rescued keeps going on and on about how she's "not going to fall in love with you because you saved her" and that she "could have escaped that dragon whenever she wanted." You've been happily married for 15 years, and are unsure how much more of the ride home you can take.
|
It had only been a day since I'd unlocked that damned door at the top of that damned tower in that damned arse-end on nowhere volcanic hellscape. And already I could feel my brains melting out of my skull under the ceaseless drone of self-assured bullshit.
"I could have escaped any time i wanted!"
"Then why didn't you?"
"I didn't want to leave yet, I was watching all the Knights try."
"Suuuuuuuuure"
"It's true! I could even take you in a fight."
"With all due respect Princess. Please shut the fuck up."
Ugh, that rhythmic pounding between my ears had started up again. To think this entire situation came as the product of a few too many drinks and one luck-
"Well, I'm not going to fall in love with you if that's what you're expecting!"
"Princess. Its a fucking long way back to your father's lands. I'd like to arrive there without gouging out my ear drums to escape your prattle."
"That's not going to woooo-ork"
"Princess. I'm sure watching empty headed Knights rush stupidly to thier deaths in the hope of winning a King's ransom and possible a moment of your time has a hell of an effect on you ego. I have no interest in you."
"So you did all of that just for money? Typical of a pig like you."
"I'm just paying a debt."
"Ha, sure you are. Playing coy won't work on me."
"I owed your father a favour. That is why we are here. I have no interest in a spoiled teenager. I retired, got married and put down my swords. The only reason I even bothered to leave the happy, *quiet* life i have. Is because your father won a round of poker."
She seemed to deflate at that point, granting me a few more breif moments of silence before inevitably opening her mouth again. "Who even fights a dragon as a favour? Sounds pretty stupid to me."
"Jorm"
"Jorm?"
"Jorm the giant slayer, Dragon bane, throne rend. And again. Just incase you've somehow forgotten. Fifteen years happily married."
"Jorm left the kingdom a year after I was born. If you're gonna lie, atleast choose something realistic."
"I am too old and way too tired for this shit."
With a single sharp whistle I slung my feet free of the stirips before planting my boots in the forest floor, watching silently as old Ronin continued to trot along carrying the Princess with him. I'd catch up later, but for now? For now I just needed some fucking silence.
|
“This is a clean and cut sign of the patriarchal reign over feminine isolation tactics with the use of pyromaniacal avian reptiles…”
Princess Ellie would not *shut the hell up*. I was pretty sure she started making words up as she went on her rant about how towers are a phallic symbol. The reward for her rescue wasn’t high enough.
She was on horseback and I walked through the forest. Now, I wasn’t expecting her to fall in love with me or anything dramatic but a simple “thanks” would’ve been appreciated. I tried telling her this but she shut me up with “Toxic Masculinity is thinking you’re *owed* something!”
I tried singing hymns (“why aren’t they called ‘hers’?!” she said), I tried praying to Heavenly Father (“so we just assumed god is a man?!”), then I walked in silence (“male silence is violence!”). There was no pleasing this woman and there was a weeks worth of traveling before we reached her castle.
“I could’ve taken that dragon my own anytime I wanted.” She said with her head up high. “And I wouldn’t have gotten burned.” She eyed the shiny scorch mark the dragon gifted me with the second I thrusted my sword in its eye.
I stopped walking and halted the horse.
“Listen, woman, you can spout whatever nonsense your private tutor poured into your empty fucking head after I return you to your family but please for the love of god shut the fuck up.”
She opened her mouth to protest but I cut her off “I mean for fucks sake you grew up in a damn castle surrounded by women answering your every whim and bathing you every night and feeding you meat every night and giving you wine from foreign countries while I risked my damn life to pay off my farms debt so my wife and I can continue to wake up while it’s still dark and squeeze on a cows tits for clumpy milk every single fucking morning and feed our six fucking kids!”
She shut her mouth for once. Her eyes, usually full of daggers, started glistening.
Suddenly, a high pitched screech nearly deafened us. The horse bucked and Ellie flew off, landing in a puddle of mud. The sky above us darkened.
It was the dragon. Shiny black scales reflecting the sun light and vivid red blood dried out under its empty eye socket. It opened its mouth. In the back of its throat, I could see a ball of flame grow.
Ellie sprang to her feet and jumped in front of me before the dragon could blow its fire at us.
(On phone, don’t judge typos pls)
| 2021-09-09T07:21:45 | 2021-09-08T20:57:49 | 270 | 125 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.
|
Music is one of the greatest human feats. Engineering and science are great, don't get me wrong. I like my air conditioning as much as the next guy. But there are songs we sing and tunes we hum that connect us to thousands of generations of those who went before us, and no earthquake or tsunami can erase the magic. Music connects us in visceral ways, and people from across the globe from each other can genuinely connect and feel empathy for one another when listening to something unfamiliar with either of them. Music reminds us of our common humanity.
Music is power. It is the driving force that unites movements and defines generations. I don't mean in just the cultural touchstone sense, either. It is very real power. Psychic, metaphysical power. I am able to open myself to that power, to that flow. Since I was little, music allowed me to do things that baffled my parents. A simple soothing voice humming dropped me to restful healing sleep instantly. Singing along in the car to my dad's “road songs”, and we'd somehow wind up where we were going hours early. My school's fight song had my football team winning championships left and right, though it was a bit of a challenge to get the band director to play it before the touchdown.
The older I've become, the more I've realized that my powers can be tailored. I can boost my speed and power with battle hymns and old martial music. A dangerous and frantic crowd is no match for my calming presence while playing a string quartet's light etude. I have even used the US Air Force's official song to boost me over a swollen river to rescue some stranded hikers in danger of being washed away. I didn't set out to be a superhero, but I just kind of fell into it, playing the music and getting things done. I think perhaps these powers are only really at their apex because of technology. I can play music in earbuds from a vast remote library of stuff I have collected. Meticulous sorting and indexing helps me switch rapidly, and my own love of music helps me remember songs to sing to myself and get pumped when electronics fail.
I don't let on that the music powers me. I've graduated, so to speak, from fighting natural disasters and cats in trees to the actual villains running roughshod through the world. No need to let them know that without music, without the ability even to sing, or drum, or connect to that power, I'm fairly normal. My superhero name is Steve. It has nothing to do with music, and really, who wants a name like “The Tune”, or “Music Man”, or (as my smart-ass dad once suggested) “Hero who can't remember to take the garbage out”?
This job, for what it's worth as a job, has gotten harder, you know. Tailoring the music to the villain and the situation is always a challenge. I show up and start rocking through some metal and thrash music, and villains stop showing up to fight. They send henchmen, or even worse, unwilling proxies. Keeping my head on a swivel while I try not to hurt those who have been duped, looking for the real threat to adjust a playlist on the fly isn't easy. Switching from a classical aria to help focus my wits to get me deep inside a hideout to a gospel hymn of protection when bullets start to fly takes a lot of concentration and skill.
But there was that one... thing. Villain, yes. Man? Woman? I don't think it was really either. Someone had made a pact or agreement with something out of time and space. Something Lovecraftian and eldritch. It didn't follow the rules of villainy. No speeches. No monologuing. It didn't really conquer, so much as enslave, then consume. By the time people were really aware of how awful this thing was, it had metastasized into a constantly-shifting mass that exerted its twisted will through psychic and physical force. One minute, it might be a towering being with flailing tentacles, and another, it might be an manifestation of wind and power, sucking energy out of nearby sources.
How do you fight something like that? It had to be stopped, and it was obvious that I had to try. I had flown there on a raft of Air Force service songs and marches. I even hurried my way with some sci-fi speed music (Star Trek themes are great for warping along). Moving as fast as I was, I punched through it like a me-sized bullet, tearing a great gout of blackness out of it. Then I was on the ground, covered in that blackness, feeling my will draining out of me. I had to switch to some of my favorite motivational songs, the ones that get clubs jumping, just to stand up and untangle myself. By the time I had, it was aware of me and moving at me.
Tentacles and thrown objects rained down around me, and I had to get defensive just to survive the onslaught. I tried my blackest metal to get in fast and try to destroy its physical form. It evanesced into steam and lightning and attacked me with energy, all while trying to erode my mind. I needed something that would let me fight this thing back with my mind, but also physically. It was far more powerful than any foe I'd faced yet. It could switch its form and mode on a whim, and did so. For every foot-stomping bluegrass banger to get me motivated and every Mongolian throat-singing metal tune to infuse me with power, this thing just morphed into something different. I could only switch music so fast, and I was running out of ideas.
Once, years ago, I had hurt a man, badly. Well, more than hurt. I was new to using my powers directly against villains, and I had faced some with powers of their own. He was strong, he was evil, and he had killed many in his quest for power. He was trying to kill me, and also a bunch of schoolkids. In trying to find music to keep the kids happy while keeping myself strong enough to fight him off, I stumbled on what I now call my 'forbidden playlist”. I never wanted to repeat what had happened to that man. Evil or no, it was too much.
Taking a bit of parking garage upside my head while blasting power ballads spun me ass over tea kettle, and I knew it was time. This thing wasn't human so far as I could tell, and it was winning. I cycled through the list, and “The Merry Go Round Broke Down” soared through the speakers in my head. Anvils rained down on the beast. Before it could adjust, I had assumed its own form, but with exaggerated eyelashes, a feminine shape, and huge red lips. I kissed it. It boggled mentally. The “Tom and Jerry” theme blasted and I forced it to chase me into power lines. Despite lacking solid form, the outline of a skeleton shone from within.
Cartoons are barely-controlled insanity. They represent the ability of the human mind to create the most absurd situations and precepts, often lacking even the need for dialogue. The music sets the theme and the action, and we are caught happily in the tumble of farce and suspended physics. This thing was caught in the maelstrom, and faced with something as fickle as its own nature, was being defeated. Acid-squirting flowers and ridiculously huge cannons pelted it. It fell through holes where there should be none. And when last I saw it, it was riding a giant rocket straight into the sun. The sunsets were pretty for about a week after that.
No mortal can stand the tide of the collected madness of mankind, and I refuse to subject them to it, no matter how debased a villain might be. But should the need arise, Steve is here to let 'em know: That's all, Folks.
|
“Blood? Oh, that’s my blood. That’s not good.”
The blaring rock music rattled through my headphones as I pulled myself off the floor. When I got to my feet, I staggered, clutching the broken wall of the coffee shop I had just been tossed through. It was a good thing the headphones were reinforced, or they would have perished in the blast.
I tapped my body, examining all the music note patterns in my costume. Each one serving as a unique way for me to remember where each of my vitals were. Sure, it made me a walking dartboard for villains, but I hadn’t met a villain yet that had caught onto my little cheat sheet. My hands brushed over the semibreve over my heart, ensuring that it didn’t have a hole in it. Though I wondered why I bothered, surely if that part had been damaged, I wouldn’t be standing. From Sharp to Treble Clef, my vitals were looking good, with the wound coming from a rather painful cut on my back.
Super Boom flew towards me. The explosives-based villain floating above me. I could see his mouth moving. No doubt he was giving some very interesting evil monologue. His hands crossed over his chest as he glared down at me. Eventually, his mouth stopped moving, and it appeared he was waiting for a response.
“WHAT?” I shouted, unable to hear him over the rock music.
He attempted to speak again, this time the veins in his neck were straining as his mouth opened wider, sounding out every word individually. His cheeks were bright red, annoyed beyond comprehension. As he finished speaking, he again waited for my feedback.
“WHAAAAT?”
This time I took off my headphones, placing them against my hip, allowing him a moment to speak. While it may have seemed cartoony, this little routine was buying me some precious time to get my breath back. Even a superhero gets a little winded after smashing through a building and no amount of rock music can fix that.
“You know what, never mind. It was a brilliant speech, but it’s wasted on a B-list hero. You will be my steppingstone towards greatness. As they say, you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette and you’re just the right size to make a hearty start to this villainous buffet.”
“Glad I left the headphones on for that one. Want another crack? Get it, you called me an egg and eggs crack.”
I held a smile despite the pain setting in. Even with my breath back, the pause in the fighting had caused my adrenaline to wane and now that pain was slowly poisoning my body, draining me of my energy. I needed a plan quickly; stalling would only work for so long. Back up was always an option, but who knows how far away that is? That left me with only one option. I stared at my cracked phone screen, searching for my forbidden playlist.
“Ever seen that video of the man that throws a bunch of eggs against a wall in an attempt to imitate cooking? That’s what I’m going to do to your body.” His palm glowed with a golden light, smoke drifting out of from behind the powering blast.
I couldn’t exactly dodge it, not with a massive cut on my back. Guarding probably wouldn’t be effective either, not at such a close range. Even if I survived the initial blast, I would still be down for the count. I had to get that playlist ready. The smell of burning flesh drifted from the blast as it neared its completion, my hand frantically tapping away until I could start the playlist.
When my finger collided with the play button, I tossed the headphones back on, listening to the overly dramatic lyrics. The blast flew towards me, rampaging through the remains of the coffee shop, burning everything in its path. I stuffed my phone back into my suit and shut my eyes, preparing for the worst.
The hot wave shot into me, knocking me off my feet as the inferno of warmth threatened to cook me. I could hear his snide laughter as he watched. The intense pain causing my eyes to drift closed for a moment, only to snap awake as I pushed myself forward.
“How can you see into my eyes, like open doors..” I hated using this playlist, but only songs as dramatic as this could fuel me in this great time of need. These songs relied on pain to power them, and I was in a lot of pain.
“Impossible, you should be dead. You should be a boiled egg by now. Damn it, I’m not going to the bottom of the villain ladder over an idiot like you. DIE.”
Another blast of heat shot towards me, this time as the cloud of warmth hit me. It exploded, throwing me backwards, sending me rolling along the street. I needed some offence. As the words ‘WAKE ME UP’ shot through my headphones, I got myself back to my feet, exploding into a powered-up rage.
A sudden look of panic covered his face as he attempted another blast, only for my fist to land squarely on his face, getting a little payback for the last attack. Tapping my headphones, I changed the song, deciding to go for something more dramatic.
“When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city. To see a marching band.” The ground shook, imitating the roar of a large marching band. Each violent shake causing the villain even more fear as he squirmed backwards, trying to get himself to his feet. Though with each squirm back he made, I took a step forward, ensuring that if he wanted to stand, he would have to face me when he did. I wouldn’t give him any distance.
“He said, son, when you grow old, will you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned?” An angelic glow followed my steps, repairing the broken street beneath my feet. My gaze didn’t leave the villain, instead, my steps were gaining on him until I was standing over him.
“To join the black parade.” A shadowy mass of vines sprawled out of my palm, gripping the man around the waist and swinging him. He attempted to charge another blast, but before he could charge it, I slammed his body into the ground, knocking him out in a rather painful bit of whiplash.
Like always, now that the fight was over, I could see the other heroes arriving on the scene. My aching body probably only having one song left in it. One hero went to offer me her shoulder while the others went to arrest the villain. As she waited for me to lean on her shoulder, I held up a finger.
“Wait, I love this part. DOO, DOO, DO, DO, DOO, DOO, DO, DO, DO, DO.” After the uplifting instrumental finished, I fell forward, allowing my body its much needed rest. Such emotion had a way of sapping me of energy. Had the fight gone any longer, it might have ended my hero career.
She caught me before I hit the floor, keeping me upright. She removed my headphones before picking up my body in her arms. Her suit had a stunning shine to it, one that radiated confidence. No one dressed in such a bright costume unless they were confident in their ability to take a hit. Well, maybe except me. I am the expectation to that rule.
“You did well for a rookie. Although you are losing a lot of blood, let’s get you to a hospital, ok?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Please hurry. I think my beam notes might be damaged.”
“Beam notes?” She glanced over at my costume, struggling to figure out where the beam notes were.
“Um, which parts that?”
“Kidneys.”
“Oof, yeah, I didn’t want to say anything, but there’s a pretty nasty looking cut there. Get some rest. You’re in the hands of the Soaring Phoenix.”
The Soaring Phoenix? What was someone like her doing here? It hardly mattered. The knowledge that she was here made it easier to rest. I let my eyes shut, knowing that I would wake up to a painful month of rehabilitation.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2022-05-17T09:51:47 | 2022-05-17T09:15:17 | 395 | 215 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.
|
There’s nothing I can do.
He is stronger than me. Faster than me. And while my ability to influence people with music is strong, there are limits to what I can do.
He turns to face my city. Mine. Neighbors, friends, hell, even my enemies lives have meaning. He’s going to destroy it all, and I have only one option left; one that will take us both out of the equation forever.
With trembling hands, I reach towards the player knob, and select the “do not select” setting.
He turns, contemptuous, but as the music begins to play, his smile melts into a dawning realization.
“This is the song that never ends..”
Eternity awaits.
|
\[POEM\]
Quiet internal rebellions silenced,
The hero had inflicted his cruelest ability.
"What have you done to me?"
The late afternoon crowds drifted past,
With their childishly fresh eyes looking through him.
Slightly bewildered, he turned to the hero,
Anguish in each others eyes.
"A losing battle is raging."
Denial unravelling, he attempted to lash out
But his fist passed through the hero weakly.
"I don't understand - I still feel as though I am me!"
Surrendering to despair, he fell to the ground,
Sharing mournful camaraderie with the hero,
The only one who saw his gradations at arms length.
In the last moments of pure recall,
The hero watched as his adversary became misplaced in time.
"As your place in the world fades away,
All you will know is a confusion so thick you forget forgetting."
| 2022-05-17T10:44:20 | 2022-05-17T09:52:46 | 43 | 17 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.
|
There’s nothing I can do.
He is stronger than me. Faster than me. And while my ability to influence people with music is strong, there are limits to what I can do.
He turns to face my city. Mine. Neighbors, friends, hell, even my enemies lives have meaning. He’s going to destroy it all, and I have only one option left; one that will take us both out of the equation forever.
With trembling hands, I reach towards the player knob, and select the “do not select” setting.
He turns, contemptuous, but as the music begins to play, his smile melts into a dawning realization.
“This is the song that never ends..”
Eternity awaits.
|
I would have never thought to use a playlist so strong just to defeat someone. It's a dangerous idea, but an idea that would work.
It was becoming dark, perfect for this. I run into the night and try to change my music. I was thrown off guard when I noticed that they weren't behind me. I kept running until I fell to the ground. Scrapping up my knees and hands, my Ipod fell. I was so scared that it was broken, but when I picked it up, it was fine. I picked it up and clicked on it. Just then, my hands quiver, blood stops dripping, my sight is back. They know I just clicked on it and I know they're here. I wait for them to take their aim on me...
| 2022-05-17T10:44:20 | 2022-05-17T09:44:15 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] The Distillery is a front for a guild of expert assassins, each codenamed after alcohol. Each member is skilled in a number of things, but when an important job really needs doing and nothing less than perfection is to be expected, a letter is always received with two words: "Send Whiskey."
|
The funny part was that she wasn't even old enough to drink.
I don't remember who had given her the name Whiskey. The little girl who showed up on our doorstep almost a decade ago, battered and bruised. She barely knew how to talk back then, even though she was already ten years old. We never did figure out what pieces of shit did that to her, but I guess now it didn't matter. We were her new parents. Had been for eight years.
To make one thing clear: when I said "we" raised her, I didn't mean me and one other person. God, no. That would be ludicrous. You need more than two people to handle Whiskey. The saying, "it takes a village"—yeah that's true, just the village in this case was a guild full of lethal assassins.
At first, nobody explicitly taught her anything. We all agreed it'd be best not to get a child mixed in our affairs. But before anyone realized it, she was rigging up bombs, picking the hardest practice locks we had (and eventually real ones), and trailing us around on missions. I still remember giving her her first job.
It was nothing crazy. Scuffle between two winery owners, something about one stealing the other's grapes. Whatever the case, someone had to die. Whiskey begged and begged—she had to have been thirteen then—and I said screw it. She was better than most of the guild at locks and poison, I figured she was ready.
I didn't realize how wrong I was until she got back. She puked up her guts all night.
"How could you?" she screamed between tears and bile. "How could you let me do that?"
She was right. I was an idiot. A thirteen year old girl had no business slicing a grown man's throat.
"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing any other words to make it better.
For the next year, Whiskey shut down. It was like when we had first gotten her. She barely spoke, barely ate, and barely left her bed. No matter what we did, her shell was unbreakable. That year had been one of the best for the guild's wealth. Nobody cared.
Eventually, with extreme caution, she began to wake up. She didn't talk still, but she'd at least join everyone for breakfast, or pick up a book or lock. A few months passed that way. People teased she was like a ghost. Then, finally, she spoke again.
"Hey, Martini," she said, as cavalier as one could during breakfast.
Wide-eyed, I stared at her for a moment before responding. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Could you give me another job? I wasn't ready last time, but now I thin—"
I stopped her in her tracks.
"No."
"Huh? Why not? I know what happened last time, but I'm older now and—"
I stared into her eyes, and she knew I was serious.
"No. I won't let you kill another person. Not yet, at least. You're too young. I mean, you can't even drink for God's sake."
Her lips curled into a devilish smirk; they looked like an imp's horns.
"Fine," she said, "but you better keep your word. As soon as I turn eighteen I get my own mission."
"Sure," I said, getting up from my chair and shaking my head. "If that's what you want."
"Oh," she said, as I was leaving the kitchen, "and I get to tag along still, like I used to. You said I don't get to kill people, not that I can't watch."
She was right. There's a big difference between watching someone die and killing someone yourself, and she'd been a part of so much death already that I didn't care if she watched.
The thing was, she did more than just watch. During her stint of depression, I had forgotten how good she was at everything besides pulling the trigger. I was quickly reminded of her skills when she watched me fumble with a lock to a politician's room for a few minutes before pushing me aside and opening it herself in five seconds flat. I tried to cover her eyes as the neighborhood was woken up to the sound of a gunshot, but she looked anyways. She didn't seem phased.
That's how her and I became the most requested duo of the guild. The jobs came in her name, but I didn't care. Recognition in this profession will kill you, and anyone who wanted her dead wouldn't think Whiskey was a teenage girl.
We were able to get into rooms nobody else could, and we killed people who were previously thought to be invincible. If somebody wanted someone dead, no matter who, they'd ask for Whiskey. Our services didn't come cheap, but that didn't keep business away. When you're the best at something, somebody will pay.
Now, on her eighteen birthday, I kept my word. It was a quiet job; the person to be killed was insignificant. Nobody would miss the guy. Just in case she got cold feet, I tagged along with her.
"Before you do this," I said to her, ignoring the tied up, gagged man's muffled screams, "remember what happened last time. Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Yeah," she said, as she took the pistol from my hands. "I'm sure."
On the drive home she seemed alright, though a little quiet. Once we got past the front doors of the guild she ran to the bathroom. I sighed as I listened to the same sounds from five years ago.
"Can't be mad at me this time," I shouted at the closed door. "You're a grown lady now. You made this choice."
"I know," she shouted back, "I know. Just leave me alone."
I went to the living room and propped my feet up. The fireplace crackled next to me, and I closed my eyes as I sank into the leather couch. I hoped she wouldn't get depressed like last time. I didn't know if I could handle another year like that.
The sound of footsteps woke me up from my nap. Standing in front of me was Whiskey, with two glasses in her hands.
"Hey," I said, still half-asleep, "you're not old enough... wait."
She rolled her eyes and handed me a glass identical to her own.
"Sorry about that," she said. "A lot of memories from last time came rushing in. It wasn't the job itself that did it. I'm good now."
"It's fine," I said, twirling the glass between my fingers by its stem, "as long as you're feeling better. Where'd you learn to make this?"
"It's not much different from mixing poison," she said. "I mean, it's basically the same thing."
I smiled. "Well, good choice," I said, as I took a sip. The drink was strong, but well-crafted. I could tell she put her heart into it.
She did the same, and the second the liquid touched her lips her face scrunched up and she began to cough.
"What the hell?" she said, huffing air in an attempt to clear her mouth.
I chuckled. "You'll get used to the taste. Everyone does."
She looked down at her glass and swirled the liquid around. She shook her head. The customary toothpick was sticking out of the drink, and she grabbed it.
"No," Whiskey said, spinning the toothpick with the olive between her fingers for a few moments before biting the fruit off. "I don't think I will."
"Suit yourself," I said, as I took her glass and poured its contents into mine. "More for me. Just like always."
|
The building was immaculate. Front hedges were perfectly trimmed, there was no sign of rot on the wooden exterior, despite a literal millennia of wear without repairs, and not a single statue even slightly out of place. These people had money.
"Hello, this is the Blue Century Historical Society?" I asked.
The doorman looked at me. I had everything there. I had the license. I had the order in my back pocket, if we asked for it. I was in uniform, too. This was the easiest gig I would probably ever do, and everyone else would be infinitely more confused.
I work for the Founder's Drinking Company. It was started by Alexander Tarkinton, codename "Wine" with a few others. We had fake names we called each other, and then we had codenames. The other co-founders were "Light Beer", "Tequilla", and "Liquor". I was recruited early, apparently I was the first person who had been sent to take them down. When I figured out who they were, I joined them.
"Did we order *Founder's* Whiskey?" The doorman shouted in. "I was told it was Burke's."
"Sir, I have the order right here." I took out a small receipt, and placed it in his palm. "We were sent the order by Mr. James Barkley, for 2 barrels of our finest Scottish Whiskey."
"Is that Jerry?" a man yelled from the back of the first floor. I could hear some other house workers shuffling in the back, too.
"Sir, it's Founder's. Did anyone order any Founder's Scottish Whiskey recently?"
"Oh, it's arrived! Finally! Get the boys, we've got to unload this thing!" he cried out.
The doorman smiled at me, and handed back the receipt. "I'm assuming it's paid for already?"
I pointed down at the receipt. "I wouldn't have that if it wasn't, now would I?"
In reality, the sale wasn't the point. The whiskey wasn't poisoned. Not only would that lead to a lot more death than what we wanted, it would, guaranteed, lead back to the company, but back to me, specifically. Sure, we had completely fake, disposable fall guys for if this failed- my name wasn't actually Jerry- but it would mean loads for our stock prices if we were associated with murderers, and the government would most likely shut down the company for health concerns, ruining the whole point of the operation. We were meant to be hidden.
The whole point would be what came in a minute.
A pair of large, burly men all came outside, wearing shirts with "The Boys" labeled on them. Most likely just your normal group of movers, hired specifically for this high society sort of deal that was going on. Alongside them, came another guy. My target.
"Hey, it's Jerry! Founder's told us the alcohol would be here today!" Johnathan Hosworth came out, all 5'10, 210 of him, wearing a shirt that almost seemed to be designed to be ripped. He was the newest member of the Blue Century Historical Society, and apparently, was also a pretty large micro-celebrity trying to hit the big time. He was set to star in a new action movie alongside Christian Bale and Eliza Gonzalez as a primary antagonist, and damn did he look the part. Ripped to the cheeks, he was clearly working out. The fact that there was no paparazzi currently around the house was surprising, too. That was especially true, too, given how outspoken he was politically. Now, I'm not one to get into politics, but given his views, and how he was now in a high society setting where those types of views tended to be looked down upon... well, let's just say it wasn't surprising when we got the call to take care of him. It was a lot, too. 20 mil up front, 40 mil afterwards.
We went back to the truck, where the barrels were. 'The Boys' got one, as Johnathan and I got the other.
Here was where what I did came into play.
Now, everyone in our group had some sort of power. Wine was a psychic, Light Beer could turn selectively intangible- much better than completely intangible, trust me- and completely invisible and unhearable. Tequilla was an *actual* perfect shot, and everyone knew that. Everyone knew everyone's power. Well, they knew everyone's power except for mine.
That was because I told them the truth.
No, literally, that was my power. I told the truth. Luckily, though, it wasn't a curse. Well, it *was* something I was cursed with, but the witch who did it was mediocre at best and essentially let me control reality with my words. I couldn't tell a lie. Physically, it was impossible. The world shifted around my words. With one caveat. What I was saying needed to be heard.
This was why, all I needed with someone was one moment. Well, all I really needed to do was say what would happen in the future with my words, but saying it directly to my target would be more fun. Kept the boredom out of the job. Alongside that, by making someone listen to my words, I could force them to do anything I wanted them to.
It was why, when I had someone here, I would have some fun.
"Hey, Mr. Hosworth." I asked.
"Yeah, Jerry?" he looked up at me. The Boys were out of earshot, now, so I decided to make my move.
"You will completely understand my intention behind what I say for the next minute."
He tilted his head, confused.
"You'll stand still and stop speaking for the next minute, with all your attention solely focused on me."
He stopped, still holding the barrel, but his face shifted to pure panic.
"You will die on the 4th of September, 2022, at 8:23PM, during a house party at the Blue Century Historical Society's first ever building. You will die from strangulation on the third floor bathroom of the building. You will be unable to communicate any of this information, in any manner, through your emotions, speech, writing, or any manner that would allow someone to explain that this is beyond your own free will. You will be strangled by your own two hands. It will feel painful, like an entire baked potato is stuck in your throat. You will die attempting to convey how someone forced you to kill yourself, however, everyone from that point onwards will convey it as your last words. Whatever you think those words will be, they will be scrambled in your last moments. Every part of your body except your brain will act as if your brain wasn't aware of this information. You will act jovially and happily until your death."
I looked at him, deep in the eyes. There was a deep seeded fear within him, despite his jovial smile he now held.
"You will continue as normal."
"What was that, Jerry? I'm sorry, I didn't catch it." Johnathan Hosworth chuckled as he helped me carry the barrel over.
"Oh, it was nothing. Don't worry, good sir."
With that, we carried on, bringing the barrel in, and setting up the rest of the party. I left for the company, knowing exactly what would go on later that night, in the third floor bathroom.
\---------------------
Good lord, that was dark. I honestly don't feel comfortable what I've just written. I can write brutal scenes, but damn, dying from that without any control or ability to express fear, that...
I don't know, tbh. It's late at night, I'm tired, and I need to get some sleep. See y'all soon.
| 2022-06-14T22:57:48 | 2022-06-14T20:13:54 | 278 | 141 |
[WP] The young woman had spoken to everyone in town, asking them to teach her to fight. The warrior, the hunter, the knight, all had declined. Finally, in desperation, she spoke to the dwarven blacksmith. Lowering his massive hammer he looked at the fire in her eyes and said "Aye. I could do that."
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And so, they made a deal. She would help him with his work for a season. Ten swords of iron and silver for the royal guard, weapons fit for the mageslayers. Afterwards, he would train her. And he vowed to never ask why she wanted to learn, not what she intended to do with that knowledge.
The work was grueling. The dwarven master quickly realized she had never endured hard labor before. The woman wasted away into a thin, blank-eyed husk of a person. But she had given her word, and neither him nor her ever suggested breaking the deal.
The town, though, tried to convince her to stop. Worried, they would talk to her whenever the blacksmith wasn't around. Trying to make her see reason. They knew (or rather, they thought they knew) she was not cut for this. They were sure her pampered upbringing left her soft. They begged for her to return to her family. She never confirmed nor denied their suspicions. She just worked, day in and day out.
The pair had to haggle for tools and raw material regularly, with most merchants rejecting the ragged woman and the old outsider. Whatever they could get, was always overpriced. She began to worry they wouldn't be able to fulfill their contract, but her master assured her it was his contract. As long as she worked her hardest, he would honor his deal at the end of the season.
She knew how to cook, and she taught him about human customs and rituals through the dishes they could manage to prepare. To her surprise, the old dwarf had never really integrated into human society. He lived amongst them, but he was always apart. He was particularly fond of sweets, and while his culture produced great baked goods, he wasn't used to the multitude of fruits and berries from human lands. So they foraged together and began to trade for ingredients when they visited the market.
He told her about his military career, and how he ended up making weapons. She asked why he left the mountains and that was the first time they had an argument. For a week, they worked without talking, silently going through the motions. She never got the answer.
When the leaves turned yellow and brittle, and the season ended, they had ten wonderful weapons to present to the guard. Unlike the people in the village, the soldiers respected the dwarf and seemed eager to convince him to go with them. He rejected their offer. They even turned to her and offered her a job, but everyone in the room knew it was just a ploy to try and get to him. She declined, too, and the mageslayers left with their weapons.
So the pair celebrated.
They drank, they ate, they used some of the money to celebrate until the sun came back up the sky. It wasn't too expensive, as they were alone and they were tired. They indulged because they had earned it. And the next morning, she approached him.
"Why did they reject me?" She asked, and he didn't know. He could not speak for the men that had denied her plea for help a season ago.
"Why did you take me in?" She asked, and he told the truth. Because he saw she would never give up.
"Why doesn't that sound like a good thing?" She asked, and they laughed.
So they set out to work. Now, she knew about weapons. Her hands had worked on blades, and they would forge her own. She knew her limits, her body taken to the extreme and strengthened by the work. She trusted him, and she would be putting her life on the line with his teachings to back her up. And he now knew the kind of person she was.
The honor and kindness she had. The way she not only worked, but talked, and traded, and haggled, and explored, and survived. He didn't need to know what her mission was. He trusted her.
It would be another season before she made her own blade. And another season before she was fit and strong, her own body reforged. And a final season before she mastered the techniques she had been learning, the metal in her muscles and mind hardening and locking the training in. A year before she would leave the blacksmith's hut.
She promised to come back to see him, and he knew she meant it. After all, he had trained her.
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The night's darkness plagued the town of Terbarrow, dim lanterns illuminating the gloomy streets. Everyone had gone to their homes and fallen asleep by now and cleared the pathways of the town, everyone but a ghostly figure. The ghoul wandered the streets, checking through all the windows and entering the empty pubs. A glow appeared from the mountain overlooking the town, somehow signaling the ghost to come to it. A flash of light later, and the figure was gone, leaving a mess of cups and beer in the taverns. Leaving one witness to tell the story....
Once the sun arrived, everyone awoke and got ready for the day ahead. Beatrice hadn't gotten any sleep after the ghostly sighting last night and got dressed tiredly. She feared the being but assumed she must have been dreaming or imagining things. She walked out the door and started walking to her job as a waitress at a tavern in town.
Once she arrived, she was surprised by the lack of a line out the door, but thought nothing of it, even though it was the most popular pub in town. She walked inside, only to find her boss on the floor, mumbling about a mess. The building indeed was a mess, mead and beer spilled on the walls, cups hanging from the chandelier, and a table being burnt in the firepit. Beatrice asked her boss, Ivor, what happened "What in the name of Ysloda happened here?! Are you okay?" "No, I think a bear must've gotten in through a window.", Ivor said, gesturing to the broken window by the door. Beatrice knew this wasn't the work of an animal, and she came to the conclusion that what she saw the other night was no dream or hallucination.
She sprinted outside, rushing to the town hall to inform the mayor. She bursted through the doors and informed the mayor of his sighting. "Mr. McDeli, you have to believe me! We're all in great danger! Explain the trashed taverns!", she yelled. "I've examined every tavern and it's clearly the works of a wild animal, bear, deer, or wolf. You must have been dreaming last night! I have no likes for lying gossipers trying to start drama. Guards, show her out, please." The mayor replied. Beatrice pleaded with him as the guards threw her out and locked the big brass doors.
She, not excepting defeat, asked around for fight training, if the mayor wouldn't address this threat, she will. She started at the hunting lodge, asking the hunter, but he refused. She then made her way to the guard barracks and the knights said no. She visited a retired warrior, but he refused to as well.
As a last hope, she visited the Dwarf at his forge. "Hello, miss, how may I help you? Necklace, earing, maybe a bracelet?" He asked her as she walked up the steps to his porch. "Fight training, do you sell that?" She replied. The dwarf looked up from his work and was about to say no, but noticed her stance and the look in her eyes. Lowering his hammer, he said "Aye, I could do that."
"Good, I tried warning the mayor of a possible threat and was brushed off, I fear that his inaction could be the downfall of this town. I witnessed a ghostly figure trash the taverns and fly up to a glow on top of the mountain." "Well, that's quite the imagination, young lady." "It was no dream! Say, the dwarves used to have a city in the mountains. Do you have any tales from when you lived there? legends, myths, stories, anything?" "Well, when I was a little lad, I heard stories of a beast lurking in the mountain, sending ghostly messengers to scout out the lands he wishes to conquer.... actually, you might be on to something there." "See, I told you I wasn't lying!" "Yes, you did, and if you wish to protect this town, you came to the right blacksmith. I can teach you all you need to know."
The dwarf asked for Beatrice to hand him a map on the shelf behind her and introduced himself an Baloff. "Meet me tonight with a cup of mead and I'll show you the basics of fighting.
(WIP)
| 2022-08-28T11:16:14 | 2022-08-28T10:43:06 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] The galactic coalition had sent every vessel to fight against the incoming armada in the deep space between galaxies, one problem though, a ceasefire was declared by both sides and no one wants to explain. Anyone from high command to average grunt are visibly disturbed by just mentioning it.
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"It's almost Kwanzaa! I shouldn't be fighting!"
"Well it's almost Christmas. But they're aliens. They don't know or care about that!"
"Hanukkah, for me. We're in the middle of Hanukkah. I hate this."
\--------------
"Thus begins the Season of Renewal. We shouldn't be fighting!"
"They're aliens. They don't know or care about that!"
"Yeah. Okay. Target locked."
\--------------
"They got a lock on us!"
"Shield functional."
"They're not firing. Hey, they're just not firing."
"Bet it's too much to hope that it's Hanukkah for them, too."
\--------------
"Fire."
"They aren't firing at us."
"Fire now! The new ammo's designed to go through their shields!"
"I'm not firing. It's the Season of Renewal. I'm not firing unless I have to."
"You'll kill us all!"
"They're not firing at us."
\--------------
Several days later
\--------------
"Why are we having peace negotiations?!"
"It's Kwanzaa."
"What?"
"It's also the Season of Renewal."
"What?!"
|
As the battle raged on in deep space, the crews of the ships in the galactic coalition fought valiantly against the incoming armada. Every vessel had been sent to fight, and the outcome of the war hung in the balance.
But then, without warning, a ceasefire was declared. No one knows why, and no one from high command to the average grunt is willing to explain. The silence that follows is palpable, and everyone is visibly disturbed by even mentioning it.
The ceasefire has left everyone confused and on edge. No one knows what to expect next, and there is a sense of unease among the ranks. Some speculate that it is a trick, and that the enemy is planning to launch a surprise attack. Others believe that a higher power intervened and stopped the fighting.
As the days pass, the tension only grows. No one knows what will happen next, and the uncertainty is taking its toll on the crews of the coalition ships. They are exhausted from the fighting, and the ceasefire has only added to their stress and anxiety.
But despite their fears, the crews remain determined to protect their homes and their loved ones. They are ready to face whatever comes next, whether it be peace or more war. And they will continue to stand strong and united, ready to defend the galaxy against any threat.
| 2022-12-09T19:06:28 | 2022-12-09T18:17:56 | 97 | 22 |
[WP] you are a member of a sentient race of octopi in the Mariana trench. a strange-looking metal fish has just flash banged you with the strongest light you've ever seen. what's even worse is that since it saw you crafting tools it won't leave you alone.
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"FUCK OFF YOU SHINY SHARK BAIT!" Skitters-With-Shells blinked started peeking her eyes out of her hole curious as to who was screaming profanity at ass end of the morning and why. She stared baffled at the strange shiny fish that seemed to be ignoring the rocks and shells tossed at it by a visibly pissed off Tangles-With-Spine.
"Got a pet?" She asked coming fully out of her hole trying to figure out just what kind of fish it was but drawing a black. She'd never seen one this far down that was a bright toxic yellow.
"PEST NOT PET!" Tangles huffed waving his shovel- a flat rusty shard of metal attached with kelp rope to a broken off section of whale rib "I'm about ready to fucking KILL AND EAT IT if it doesn't TAKE A FUCKING HINT AND FUCK OFF!" He picked up and chucked another rock at it, Skitters noticing that it chunked hollowly against it's hide like when rocks fell against the massive mental structures.
"That's what Chomps-On-Heart said about that snail they adopted, you know before they figured out they'd adopted it."
"I ain't adopting anything! You want it, you keep it!" He threw one last rock at it before dropping his shovel and diving into his hole grumbling and slamming down a stone on top of his self for privacy.
Skitters sighed swimming over and examining the strange fish as best she could. It didn't \*look\* hurt, mostly some scratches and it seemed like that last stone might have cracked it's cycloptic eye. Clicking her beak she patted the metal fish thing. "There there, come on let's see if we can fix that." Looping one tentacle around what looked like a spine of the metal fish she gently tugged it to follow her to her own hole. Clicking her beak making sure to talk slowly and calmly she used three tentacles to mix some mud, sponge, coral dust and a bit of seaweed into a paste that she carefully spread on the crack before affixing a kelp bandage on it to keep the paste in place and stop the metal fish from potentially licking or eating it off.
"There, I'm sure you already feel better." She rubbed her tentacles across one of the fishes fins "Your a big friendly guy ain't ya, like those Baskers that come every season or two....You know what. That's what I'm gonna name you. Basker." Rummaging through her hole she pulled out some sterdy kelp rope and making sure Basker could see it at all times, looped it around the fishes head. "There, we're friends now aren't we? Yes we are\~ Yes we are\~" She giggles wondering how everyone at the next clan meeting would be awed at her new pet.
Thousand's of feet above Skitters, a group of human scientists laughed and cried realizing their drone had been adopted.
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    Hugo worked in the dark. He was accustomed to it, as were all octopus who lived in Linnea, and it made him feel focused and comfortable. Down in these depths there was nothing that could move and navigate like a Linnean. His tentacles meticulously wrapped a small bit of string around a sharp, stone spearhead to affix it to the end of a two foot long stick. He gave it two thrusts. It would make a fine tool for Hugo the Fisherman. Hugo sang an ancient Linnean fishing song while he worked:
    
*In the dark we fish*
*O fisherman are we*
*We thrust our spear*
*And harvest the sea*
    
*In the dark he lives*
*O fisherman are we*
*We thrust our spear*
*O Kraken spare me*
    
    Hugo heard a click, and then saw only white. Panicked, he propelled himself towards the rocky entrance to Linnea, his body stretching out into an aerodynamic missile with every burst. Faster and faster, his eyes eventually adjusted and ahead he could see his shadow on the rocky wall nearby. His shadow. *A light? In our darkness?* thought Hugo. Shielding his eye as best he could he reeled around to get a look at the light source. The light prevented Hugo from seeing the source so he pulled out the clear container of bioluminescent bacteria he kept with him. Raising the lantern in front of him he saw it. Ten times as large as Hugo, gray like a shark, but shiny. It had no eyes that he could see. The shiny fish turned to face Hugo and lurched forward with an unnatural precision that triggered a deep terror within him. Hugo bolted behind a rock and it followed. He bolted behind another rock and again it followed.
    *Where can I go?* thought Hugo. He knew he couldn't lead it to Linnea, to his home. As the terror drew closer Hugo knew what he had to do. Summoning his last bit of strength, he darted out from behind his hiding spot, and again the terror followed. Further and further and further Hugo led it and could never shake it. Ahead, he could finally see what he was looking for, the lantern shone green on the rocks ahead save for a fifteen meter circle of darkness. In the middle, an eye opened and Hugo turned and sped towards the ocean floor to safety; however, the terror chasing him wasn't quick enough. With a crunch that could be heard a thousand meters above, it was swallowed by a larger terror.
*O Kraken spare me*
---
Wish I could have spent more time on the lyrics, but oh well.
| 2022-12-15T16:08:13 | 2022-12-15T11:01:50 | 121 | 37 |
[WP] I just learned what a drabble is. A drabble is an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length. So, let's drabble.
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From my recollection, the other side of this valley held fresh, drinkable water and caves. My makeshift shack had been weather worn and ripped apart by the harsh winds of an unforgiving desert. At this point the holes in my corrugated tin home were too large to ignore, letting sand and debris through with little resistance. I coaxed what was left of the water in my canteen out onto my tongue. Leaning back on the dry limestone slab, the sun beat down on my cheeks and chest. Are your last words spoken if no one can hear you speak them?
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I was eleven when I killed my first man, and by the time I drank my first legal pint there were hundreds more on the list. You weren't raised rough if you didn't have to fight for subsistence and temporary safety, and you aren't rough if you don't go looking for the next fight when times are more peaceful. It's engraved in my brain, printed on my soul with bloody letters.
In the days of educated masses and rising tolerance, I am the one who hunts. And when all is well for you, know that I might hunt *you* next.
A/N: One hundred words exactly, and it was easier than I expected to match a precise word count. Thanks for the prompt!
| 2013-12-03T08:37:20 | 2013-12-03T08:09:10 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Two sentence story. First sentence is the setup. Second is the gut punch. Go!
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As a young boy I was infatuated with the locomotive, and now as an older man I was finally taking my first ride with my son. I held the boy and closed my eyes disappearing into my past, feeling the vibration from the track, as we chugged along towards Auschwitz.
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Wrote this for a two sentence horror story prompt.
He awoke naked and bloody in a strange bedroom and immediately leaned over the side of the bed to retch up the remnants of last nights alcohol. As the contents of his stomach slowly mingled with the pool of blood on the floor he recognized the shape of a human penis laying, partially digested amidst his vomit.
| 2013-12-11T16:56:20 | 2013-12-11T16:26:23 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] God is found dead.
EDIT: Reading all of your responses now. Some of these are brilliant.
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The Angels did not know what to do when they saw the dead body of the **LORD**, so they brought in those that had investigated crimes such as this in the past. After their initial surprise at the fact that the creator of all was found dead after all these years of being absent, they quickly cordoned off the area and began their work.
As the various forensic experts analyzed the scene, looking for any clues as to the culprit, a man in a suit calmly walked up to the body and examined it. According to the former coroner that was present, **GOD** had been stabbed by a blade of some sort, most likely a sword, although there were some weird burn patterns around the edges of the wound. The man nodded in agreement, and turned to one of the angels that was giving his statement to one of the uniforms walking the scene. The man said to the officer “I’ll take it from here, son.”
He turned to the angel, who was one of the more armored ones, and said “They brought me in as lead detective on this. You are?”
“Michael, leader of the Heavenly Host and Armies of the Lord. With **HIS** death, I now am in command of all of Creation”
“Huh. If my time in Catholic School was right, you carry a flaming sword. Something to dispense **GOD’**s justice with, correct?” the Detective asked.
Michael responded by drawing said weapon and raising it above his head. It burst into flames, and nearly blinded the Detective.
“Many swords like that?”
“Each of us Archangels have been blessed with specific tools. Gabriel has his trumpet, I my sword.”
The detective raised his eyebrow at that statement. “Back when **HE** was a little more wrathful, I assume you used it a lot.”
“Of course.”
“What’d the wound it’d leave look like?
“Why, like most cutting wounds. With the addition of mark of the holy fire around the edges of the wound, of course. Why is this relevant?”
“Curiosity, sir.” The Detective began to walk away, but stopped, turned, and said “Oh sir, just one more thing.”
“Yes?” replied the Archangel.
“You sure no one else has a sword like that?”
The leader of **HIS** armies though for a moment, then said, “Well, they were only given to those he deemed worthy. Me and, well…” His face paled as he realized what had happened. Then, in a hushed voice, he said “*Lucifer*.”
The Detective thanked the Archangel for his time and walked up to the one who brought him to the scene. The one called GOD’s messenger, Gabriel. Gabriel turned to the Detective and asked “What’s it look like?”
The Detective replied “Well it look like,” he paused as he took out the old pair of sunglasses he always wore back when he was still alive and working in Miami and placed them on his head, ["*I'm on a highway to hell*"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=knnwIMXuj1U)
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**This adapted / inspired from Asimov's [The last question](http://filer.case.edu/dts8/thelastq.htm)**
The year was approximately 2.41x10^13 . Man has long ago united in one conscience, a single united entity of pure information, omnipresent and almost omniscient. It has been searching for the completion brought by omniscience since it has united into Man, thousands of billions years ago, but not only of it's lust for information, the force which drove Human into becoming Man, but to satisfy another basic instinct which has been inherited from Human, stopping Death, which was to come as Entropy got closer and closer with each passing millenia. The fact that a Creator was involved in the apparition of the Universe Man inhabited was a certitude, but there were two pieces of information which were missing and made omniscience impossible for Man: How to stop Entropy and the location of The Creator. Knowing that The Creator is omniscient, Man has sought it through all the corners of the Universe, hoping that the Creator shall share the information of Entropy with it, thus saving Man and completing it's omniscience.
There were trails, footprints almost of The Creator all over the Universe, seeming almost intentionally left by The Creator, to be found by Man when it is ready and worthy of the meeting. That has made Man confident, a rudimentary artefact of the times of Human; but Man didn't bother with the guilt or worry which should be associated with that feeling. It sought in all corners, whereever the trails would lead, making all the connections necessary to find the correct exact location of The Creator. God, as Human named it.
Thoughts of the feeling of the completion of omniscience were racing through Man, and even the possibility of Man becoming a Creator was taking birth in it's thoughts.
At last. This is it. The place in the Universe where The Creator is located. Far, deep in the darkness and emptyness of an once crowded area, now just empty and barely having any traces of the stars which once were born, burned and died there.
And there it was. The Creator. The traces of The Creator, it's remains. It was now clear, The Creator was long dead, leaving behind only traces of it's presence, and a trail of information, confirming it's once glorious existence, and also confirming it's death. Man was confused for the first time in it's existence. It was clear that The Creator has wiped itself out of existence, on purpose, no last message for Man or any other entity which once lived in this Universe. And entropy was close. Man felt exhausted, defeated, and desolated. Omniscience has not been acquired and the missing piece of information is the one which was needed for Man's salvation.
As desperation was climbing it's way into Man's bundled thoughts, it realises the purpose of it's existance, it's true meaning. Man starts gathering all the matter around it, bringing the Universe together, squeezing all it's information and matter together, closing in to the critical point, Man's final thoughts being riddled with the feeling of Humanly joy thanks to the final achievement of omniscience.
| 2014-02-18T15:25:19 | 2014-02-18T15:06:09 | 50 | 21 |
[Wp] Write a story that will make me question my morality.
Write a story that is so shocking it will make me question my morality.
Edit: Wow.
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The guy that honked was just another impatient urbanite asswhipe. I stand by my decision; who wouldn't stop their car, get out, and help an elderly lady with a walker cross the street. The poor soul could barely stand, and the lights stay green for such a pitifully short time, what chance did she have without a helpful pedestrian? An easy decision.
So when I drove through a northern Ontario road in mid summer, it was interesting to feel an unexpected flood of thoughts and emotions as I drove past a small painted turtle looking like it was about to cross the 2 lane highway. It was a busy road, and not much of a shoulder to park on. I suppose that could be justification for not stopping, but one could also twist that into "If the road was that busy, that just means the turtle needed your help more." Without even thinking about it at that precise moment, I just drove past the cute little thing in it's semi protective shell. I drove past it, with barely a thought to stopping and helping it. There is something unsettling about that.
The next turtle I see is in the middle of the road, it's cracked shell in plain sight, it's insides boiling in the hot sun. Poor little thing, I can't help but feel bad for it.
But how much worse would I feel if it was a person that was hit by that car. What if I drove up to encounter a crowd gathered around the frail corpse of an elderly woman, with her shattered walker thrown off into the woods from the impact. What then? How badly would I feel if I saw that?
I didn't know that old woman I helped, I didn't know that turtle that I didn't. Are they really so different from one another?
|
I remember the first night, as terrible as it was, it is one of those memories that never leaves you. My mother had come home late, she worked hard in a small salon in the city, it wasn't much to get us by, but she always smiled when she saw me, always walked a little happier when she was reminded of why she did it. I had forgotten to hang out the clothes, like she had asked me, silly I know, but it's always the little things I suppose. She went out, in the cold, I kept saying sorry, tears welling up, I knew she was tired...but she leant down, like she always did and spoke in a quiet voice "hush now my little angel, go and pray, the days are long and the future waits little one, go to bed, I'll be okay."
The house rocked with steel and fire, I heard screaming, it was my mothers, dazed as I was, I can still feel the flames licking in the darkness and ripped curtains muddied on the floors. My father grabbed me, hands wet with blood. It was not until years had past, that my father spoke of the event, one morning in the ragged refugee tent that we had come to claim as our own.
My father said they came to deliver us from evil, I....I am not sure. He said it was a sign from god, and so I took it upon myself to walk the path that every boy must walk eventually I took my courage and used it. I must become a man to see it through.
Much has changed since that fateful night, and perhaps now, I can put meaning to my life. I shall set everything right. Allah Akbar. I cry. I am coming home.
| 2014-07-07T07:35:29 | 2014-07-07T07:30:11 | 35 | 24 |
[WP] A lone Spanish soldier lost in the deep jungles of South America stumbles upon the fountain of youth, but it's very different than anyone ever imagined.
|
You seem elated at what you have found, young soldier. You are to be commended for surviving the thick perils of the jungle which have taken the lives of millions before you. Perhaps you've been looking for this fountain your whole life, and now you have found it. Maybe you're wondering if there is some sort of catch to this, some horrible exchange you must make in exchange for eternal youth?
Allow me to assuage your fears, for nothing terrible will happen to you, should you drink this water. You won't grow an extra head, or kill someone else by prolonging your life this way. Of course, immortality is not the same thing as invincibility, you can still die. I have seen it happen before, and in fact, I think I am the only man who still lives after drinking the water from this fountain. What, you may ask, could befall someone in such a way?
Well, tomorrow is never a guarantee, there is that. Even if you drink the water, the jungle itself may very well forbid you to return home. But even those who make it out, I have found, see the passage of time accelerate at a pace that drives them insane. You are young, but surely you have noticed that your days seem much shorter now than when you were in the charge of your parents. Now, imagine that acceleration over several hundred years, and you can see the drawback. The lives of loved ones seemed like minutes and seconds, wrinkles forming on the elderly brow at sunset on one who was an infant at sunrise. Those who would have their loved ones drink the water found that the journey grows more treacherous with each passing day. Many of them die, cut their lives even shorter than they would have been without the water.
Immortality is lonely. I should know, I have been here for three thousand years, and I have seen only twenty people in those millennia. Here in this strange place, the other fountains showed me the lives of the survivors of the jungle's wrath. And in those three thousand years, I have yet to see one person not regret their decision to drink these waters. When time forgets your existence, it simply leaves you behind.
The choice is yours, young soldier. I cannot stop you from drinking the water, but I have stood here all these millennia to help those such as yourself understand the choice they are about to make. No one, upon reaching this place, has ever refused the water, but I hope you will be the first.
|
Noise.
Faint. Off in the distance, noise. Well, it was not like there was an absence of noise, the endless numbers of fauna that surrounded him swathed him in a constant wash of noise. It was this noise, however, that was not of nature. Repeditive, like a cricket, yet much slower than the ones he was used to hearing at home so far away.
*screeaaaak........ skreeeaaaaak......*
With a hand on his rapier, he slogged along the dense forest floor towards the sqeaking, with each step the sound coming more and more distinct and sounding like the rusty hinge of a chorale of doors.
*screeaaaak........ skreeeaaaaak......*
In the canopy above he could see a circular clearing above, and see a break in the foliage ahead. As he nears the edge a new sound emerges. A beating, like the pant and bark of some enormous dog that no man ever lived to tell about. Peaking through the leaves, he sees a sight that was unfathomable to his mind.
Black. Shiny. Towering high above him, this giant monster raised its head to look towards him, causing him to fall back in alarm. Yet as he scrambles to his feet again the beast merely drops its head down again. With each nod, it screeched once as it panted continuously. A strange beast it was, with a large rounded head, a spiny midsection that sprouted from the ground, and a weird beating leg that slowly rose and fell with its head, a set of wheels spinning as if they were some giant heart. It seemed leashed to the ground, pulling up and down on an immense chain that seemed affixed to a box on the ground.
It seemed pained, with each screech a gush of thick black blood burst from its head as it beat its eternal struggle with its chain. Perhaps he would save this beast, for its immense size would help him with traversing the jungle in search for gold. Approaching the beast he noticed that unlike blood, this fluid was not drying. Simply it flowed along the ground and collected into pools where he could see the fur and feathers of countless animals embedded into the goop.
He knew not what drove him to taste it.
Three days later, his sergant found the body of an infant half imbedded in the tar next a pile of camouflage battle dress with a rifle leaning against the pumpjack alongside a ceremonial sword. What kind of sick joke the private was pulling on him on this oilfield security detail he did not know, but he'd whip his ass when he found him.
| 2014-09-06T21:10:40 | 2014-09-06T20:32:59 | 149 | 12 |
[WP] Human civilization has fallen and, thousands of years later, rebuilt itself. In an attempt to better understand the ancient race, a team of archaeologists have discovered the Internet and are navigating it for the first time. Write their field notes.
|
8 Firmaire 9155
We found another one of these 'Serve-R's and hooked up a carbon condenser to fuel the generators. I think we'll have something by tomorrow.
10 Firmaire 9155
No entry yesterday. We were all taken aback at how everyone was some kind of "Nazi" or "Faggot." Several random samples confirmed this. Audio logs from an 'Ex Box' archive revealed we fucked each other's mothers... a lot. I guess that explains the great collapse.
12 Fructidor 9155
No entry for the past few months. It's just cats and tits. I thought we'd eventually reach the bottom, but it's all cats and tits. I don't even know how I'll write this up.
|
Day 1
We have found an odd chamber. There appears to be multiple pillars aligned in perfect rows. Could this be a religous chamber or a burial ground? Upon further inspection we have found on one wall of the chamber a row of levers with odd markings. We will have to decipher them as they are written in a very odd script. Very similar to the findings that the Williams expedition found in a place called MIT. It seemed to have a lot of signifcance.
Day 2
My colleauge brushed against one of the pillars today and found they actually have a tranparent side. We decided to carefully clean the disturbed side and found that the pillars contain multiple boxes of some sort. We attempted to open the pillar but appears to be secured in some form.
| 2014-11-06T06:52:59 | 2014-11-06T05:33:33 | 470 | 86 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
I lay curled on the old mat I've slept on since I was just a pup, waiting for Boy. I've lived a long and happy life, the happiest parts all spent growing up with Boy. I wish he were near me now, I'm so tired and he's been gone for so long...but I'll wait for him one last time. A dog always waits for his Boy.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback, every one! I have to admit, I've never felt so guilty for successfully following the prompt. Sorry about the onions, guys!
|
I always dreaded when people remembered my birthday.
I don't recall any one of them ever being "happy".
You see, my mother died giving birth to me.
And growing up, my father never let me forget that.
___~~~___
I hear quite often how beautiful my daughter is.
I wish I could see her myself.
But she never returns my calls.
___~~~___
I cousin told me that our grandmother had passed away this morning.
But for me, she died four years ago when she could no longer remember my name.
___~~~___
I don’t know what’s worse: losing your family, or never having one to begin with.
| 2014-11-20T21:44:15 | 2014-11-20T18:55:26 | 150 | 39 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
I lay curled on the old mat I've slept on since I was just a pup, waiting for Boy. I've lived a long and happy life, the happiest parts all spent growing up with Boy. I wish he were near me now, I'm so tired and he's been gone for so long...but I'll wait for him one last time. A dog always waits for his Boy.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback, every one! I have to admit, I've never felt so guilty for successfully following the prompt. Sorry about the onions, guys!
|
He saw me from across the street and his eyes lit up as he broke out into a frantic sprint toward me.
I threw my hands up and screamed at him to stop, to make him go back, but it was already over. The driver felt terrible but there was nothing she could do; he had been born deaf and never heard the screeching wheels or the sound of the horn.
I'm alone today because my wife couldn't bear to come with me to the pet store and ask about the black boxes that they keep in the back - the ones large enough to hold a one-year old german shepherd named Roscoe.
| 2014-11-20T21:44:15 | 2014-11-20T19:13:14 | 150 | 38 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
He checked his watch for the eighth time that hour.
He took the box out of his pocket and opened it.
He took the ring out and caught the fading light of the day in its facets.
He put the ring away and walked home as he realized she would never show.
|
Parallel lines have a lot in common but they never ever get to meet each other.
Every other pair of lines meet once and drift apart forever.
The asymptote builds up (false) hope and gets closer and closer to meeting the axis but... never gets to do that.
Lines are depressing :'(
| 2014-11-20T18:36:12 | 2014-11-20T18:22:41 | 72 | 26 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
These sidewalks grow a few degrees cooler with every passing week.
With nothing but these tattered rags, a grocery cart and tonight's makeshift bed, I just don't know if I'm gonna make it.
As I gaze listlessly at the moon, I feel a soft warmth brush by my feet, then my legs.
You're just an orphaned puppy, resigned to the same fate as I, but you've made me smile for the first time in weeks.
|
He saw me from across the street and his eyes lit up as he broke out into a frantic sprint toward me.
I threw my hands up and screamed at him to stop, to make him go back, but it was already over. The driver felt terrible but there was nothing she could do; he had been born deaf and never heard the screeching wheels or the sound of the horn.
I'm alone today because my wife couldn't bear to come with me to the pet store and ask about the black boxes that they keep in the back - the ones large enough to hold a one-year old german shepherd named Roscoe.
| 2014-11-20T19:49:06 | 2014-11-20T19:13:14 | 56 | 38 |
[WP] An island that is the safest place on the planet. Humans live in complete harmony with nature. Photos have leaked, sparking interest from tourist groups. You are tasked with filling the internet with misinformation about the pics and island, to keep people in fear of it.
|
"Father!" The young man clutched at the aged hand lying on the bedspread. The shamans backed away respectfully, drawing the woven curtains as they left the room.
Grey eyes turned towards him, pupils blurred by cataracts, but still harbouring a secretive twinkle.
"My son." A wet cough clashed with the dry and raspy voice. "Soon, I will go to meet my fathers that have governed this land for ages past. Who have kept it safe from those that would abuse it. When I am gone, that duty will be yours."
The son bowed his head, tears in his eyes. Not just for his ailing father, but for himself, and the burden he would soon carry. The responsibility of an entire nation.
The old man continued, his voice faded to a whisper.
"Keep to the ancient ways. No lights, no electricity. We must allow the creatures of the night their darkness. We must allow the stars to shine, to remind our people of their promise to the land."
A hand scrabbled at the grassy bedsheets, and clutched them tightly in a whitened fist. "Deception is necessary to survival. Like the tiger hides in the forest, you too must blend in with the changing world if our ways are to continue. Build the false cities, train our people to act as the outsiders act. It will be a stageplay, to hide our true face."
Another wet cough, this one speckling the leaves with blood. "My son. I am sorry. They will hate you. You must be merciless, to appear to the world as a mad criminal. Bare your teeth as the wild dog, to keep your enemies in fear. Tuck your tail and flee when they come, so they will laugh and think nothing of you. Make the baseless threats, so the world will think of you as nothing more than a waste of their time."
Their hands found each others. The great leader smiled one last time. "I leave it to you, now, Un, my son."
|
The plan was simple.
Scare them enough to keep them out.
The only problem was, we couldn't scare them too much.
The curiosity and fear had to be in a delicate balance - too much of one, or the other and we would be found out. Or destroyed.
But still, the plan was a simple one.
In this day and age of technological advancement, when information and disinformation were impossible to tell apart. Where one could easily create a wikipedia page with false references to substantiate their point.
Hire a couple of students to astroturf ideologies.
Create a web of disillusion, burying any real information down into the dark corners of human minds. Labelling them conspiracy theories.
We had already been successful doing so in the past, Marilyn Monroe's death - how many people remember that she was actually from Mars?
The moon landings - Hah! Nobody remembers how we actually CAME from the moon.
Idiots - powerful idiots. That is what the world is.
So.. we took the easy way out.
All we had to do was decimate the first few tours that came by. Leaving only a survivor or two to relay the story back to the others.
But we couldn't do it with modern weaponry - oh no, we didn't want them to know that we were also technologically advanced.
They would hold us accountable for our actions then.
Instead - we choose to dress as Aboriginals of nearby islands. Using bows, arrows, spears, rocks, our own hands and teeth to conduct the acts.
That in itself, made it more fearsome.
A bunch of savages, that is what we were.
Sentinelese is what they called us - and they forgot - just like they always do.
Humans have a very short attention span, scare them off something long enough, show them a reasonable explanation for it, and poof - nobody cares anymore.
It was unfortunate though. I really did enjoy the gorgeous outside males in their tiny banana hammocks frolicking on the beaches before we killed them.
Oh wells.
| 2015-01-26T06:31:11 | 2015-01-26T03:16:42 | 81 | 10 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
I've always thought that the man in the window was a normal thing.
I thought that everyone had one.
He's been watching me since I was a kid, but these days he seems to get closer every night.
If I squint hard, I can almost make out his face.
|
*"Cats are the perfect pet; a glorious symphony of shiny fur and languorous muscle. Soothing when petted, uplifting when playful, admirable when feeding - I cannot imagine life without a cat. A friend, spouse, a child, a family - none of these are needed when one has a cat."*
"Is... is that okay, master, or should I write another one?"
| 2015-03-06T08:00:36 | 2015-03-06T07:59:41 | 123 | 53 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
I am trapped miles below ground, the earthquake that happened so suddenly almost seemed intended for me.
The rock walls shook, cracked, and shifted above me as I fell, until there was no trace of sunlight left.
And now, as I lay here, so completely immobilized by hardened molten rock and ash, so tightly I cannot expand my chest to taste the unnecessary, tantalizing oxygen I took for granted, I realized:
Immortality may not have been the best wish.
|
Sometimes I dream that I'm the last man on earth. That the bombs fell, or that big asteroid finally hit, or some terrorist group released a virus- I can never remember which- and one by one we scrabbled and clawed at each other until only I was left. I dream of long, slow days watching the horizon for another person, an animal, a vehicle, anything at all.
And sometimes I can't lie to myself any longer, and I clutch my blanket close against the silence, and I wonder if I'll care when the food runs out.
| 2015-03-06T13:26:06 | 2015-03-06T10:49:08 | 58 | 19 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
I am trapped miles below ground, the earthquake that happened so suddenly almost seemed intended for me.
The rock walls shook, cracked, and shifted above me as I fell, until there was no trace of sunlight left.
And now, as I lay here, so completely immobilized by hardened molten rock and ash, so tightly I cannot expand my chest to taste the unnecessary, tantalizing oxygen I took for granted, I realized:
Immortality may not have been the best wish.
|
I used to be alone, even in a crowd. No one saw me or noticed me, and although I'd gotten used to it and liked it in my own way, I still wanted a connection. The change was small at first, just a feeling behind my eyes, but in time it became something else entirely, an entirely new range of sensations, voices, and thoughts. I asked the Internet, and it seemed to think I was insane, but I knew that it was wrong and that I'd never be alone again.
| 2015-03-06T13:26:06 | 2015-03-06T08:41:48 | 58 | 17 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
I am trapped miles below ground, the earthquake that happened so suddenly almost seemed intended for me.
The rock walls shook, cracked, and shifted above me as I fell, until there was no trace of sunlight left.
And now, as I lay here, so completely immobilized by hardened molten rock and ash, so tightly I cannot expand my chest to taste the unnecessary, tantalizing oxygen I took for granted, I realized:
Immortality may not have been the best wish.
|
Its getting darker now, I can barely see my withered hands through the flickering
candlelight.
I can sense life itself evacuating the room, my hope and will to live, leaves with it.
I fought through all the other nights, but tonight will be my last for I am the only
one left.
Tears stream down my face as I feel it enter the room, and in the dead silence I
hear the cold words, "Its time to come now, and join the others."
| 2015-03-06T13:26:06 | 2015-03-06T07:56:35 | 58 | 11 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
*"Cats are the perfect pet; a glorious symphony of shiny fur and languorous muscle. Soothing when petted, uplifting when playful, admirable when feeding - I cannot imagine life without a cat. A friend, spouse, a child, a family - none of these are needed when one has a cat."*
"Is... is that okay, master, or should I write another one?"
|
Its getting darker now, I can barely see my withered hands through the flickering
candlelight.
I can sense life itself evacuating the room, my hope and will to live, leaves with it.
I fought through all the other nights, but tonight will be my last for I am the only
one left.
Tears stream down my face as I feel it enter the room, and in the dead silence I
hear the cold words, "Its time to come now, and join the others."
| 2015-03-06T07:59:41 | 2015-03-06T07:56:35 | 53 | 11 |
[WP]Write the most terrifying story you can possibly imagine, and make me genuinely afraid.
|
3...2...1.
Did you feel it? In the time it takes you to read this sentence, another person on Earth has died.
3...2...1.
Oh, that's another one. What are the chances that it's someone you know? When was the last time you called your dad? Checked on your baby?
3...2...1.
And that's three. Your father, mother, and brother could all be dead now and you wouldn't even realize.
3...2...1.
Pretty soon you'll be the one counting down those three seconds, because it will be the last three seconds of your life. Can you imagine, feeling death coming, counting down because you know it's the last thing you will ever experience?
3...2...1.
You'll be lucky if you see it coming. You might be a child, or a teenager, a mother or someone who never got a chance to be any of those. It doesn't matter.
3...2...1.
And there's a chance, just a chance, that the last thing you do will be counting down to your own death. Say it with me now:
3...2...1.
No last words, no family around you. You'll be found dead in the morning by a family member if you're lucky, or days from now by someone investigating the awful smell if you're not.
3...2...1.
Enjoy that last breath, savor the air going in and out of your lungs one last time. Feel your heart squeeze out a few more pitiful beats, because this might just be the end. It could be coming in...
3...2...1
|
It’s a beautiful day out, breakfast was good – was it not? It is just another day, maybe you are wondering about what to make for dinner, perhaps you need to mail some letters, pay some bills. Just another day in your life…
Sometimes when you torture someone they fall deep into a dream world that resembles their old life. In the real world they are catatonic, non-responsive and all they do is sit there and drool. All that’s left is a shell of a real person, there is nothing else there…
The problem of course is even after the torture stops, and they are rescued they lay there, immobile and non-responsive to any external stimuli. They just exist in this dream world, and it seems perfectly real to them. It’s just another day at work, when the reality was they were kidnapped and tortured for weeks on end.
How was your day? Did you catch the latest episode of your favorite show? Check your email?
The thing we, as neuro scientists, try to do is get a message to these people. Something that could make them wake up. Something that was small enough to get into their subconscious and to relay a message from the real world that all that pain is over, and you are safe, and we want you to come back, come back to reality. Sometimes they will read a message, and they will awake. Sometimes though, nothing will get through and they remain in this dream world forever.
Sometimes there are small hints that this dream world is just not right. The bus you ride seems a bit different, but you cannot put your finger on it. There seems to be a pressure in there, colors are different in some subtle way, people sometimes smile in a strange way. Like the man at the corner store you always go to. Small hints that the world is not really what it is at all.
Have you checked your email?
| 2015-06-05T18:26:33 | 2015-06-05T16:27:27 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] After a freak accident you find yourself at the pearly gates, but rather than a list of your deeds, you're presented with all the fucks you've ever given. Branded a hoarder, you're given a second chance to relive your last 24hrs and earn entry to heaven, by giving all the fucks you have
|
He was not a rich man
Always seemed down on his luck
The bankers took everything he had
But he didn't give a fuck.
.
He was not a bad man either
Always made an honest buck
His wife cheated him out of a house and a kid
But he didn't give a fuck.
.
He was not an emotional man
When his life would start to suck
He'd pick up a beer and grimace
But he wouldn't give a fuck
.
But one day he was crossing the road
And got hit by a truck
St. Peter called him a selfish ass
And told him to give a fuck
.
So he went back down to Earth
Among the rest of us lowly shmucks
Asked a beat-up prostitute her life story
And gave her all his fucks.
|
"I'm sorry I have to give what now?"
"Fucks. You have to give all of your fucks. Every last damn fuck you never gave. 24 hours, or downstairs you go."
I was at a loss for words. I mean, one moment I was crossing the street, next, I was having Saint Jackass over here cuss me out? I mean hes a saint, is he even allowed to say that kinda shit?
"Uhh... Okay then." I managed to mutter.
"Now get the fuck outta here I said."
And just like that, the strange man with a thick bronx accent and wings disappeared, and I found myself in an alleyway.
"Oh great, what now?"
I looked up, hoping for an answer, but all I saw was a cloud shaped like an abstract middle finger.
| 2015-11-18T20:03:12 | 2015-11-18T10:51:26 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You are an immortal and have been alive for millions of years without anyone finding out. However, Human kind has been evolving, and you have stayed the same.
|
There is no name. There is no title. There is only 'I'.
Birthed at ground zero of what humanity would call the 'Chicxulub' event, my physical form is undying. While wandering around as a newborn I witnessed mass extinction. Charred carcasses of giant beasts and shrieking survivors taught me emotions. Despair. Sadness. Anger. Grief. This event was the first extinction event since my origins, however it was far from the last.
The vessel that humans would call my 'body' is a sphere comprised of Curium, Plutonium and Uranium. While I cannot perceive colour in the same spectrum that humans do, I would be an inconsistent mixture between a luminescent green and dazzling white. My sentience is a mystery that I can only speculate was caused by the intensity of my birth.
Now for my retelling of discovery by other sentient beings.
In the last few short millennium, a primal mammal began to take awareness. This species began to cultivate their own nutrition and seemingly control their environment. Resources, reproduction, labor and technology were all accelerating at an alarming rate for this young species. About seven thousand millennium ago these 'humans' turned savage. Their insatiable collection for resources that disregarded the very world that gave them birth. Their abuse towards mammals of their own species which they now call slaves, and mammals of different sexes ignited the anger I once felt.
It didn't matter which faction of humans, they were all the same. Abuse, cruelty, violence. This cycle of self-inflicted destruction and reconstruction continuously repeated.
Last century, I grieved once again. These humans were on the path to absolute destruction. Their cycles of destruction and reconstruction were becoming too immense. Millions of humans died at the previous two clashes of factions. Through their destruction however, these humans created my siblings.
Although much smaller than myself, these spheres were born from immense explosions that the humans created. In the span of a few short years, 1352 of my 'species' have emerged. The humans are now fully aware of our presence. However I know what is in store for my kind.
As we are forged by dense elements and impossible events, these humans will exploit us for resources. Although we are naturally immortal, our sentience can 'die'. A total of 94 of my siblings have died in two events known as 'Chernobyl' and 'Fukushima'. The spheres were being harnessed as an energy source for humans, yet they couldn't contain our full potential. A few hundred of spheres are still hidden around the globe. However the majority are submerged in water. Forced to decay as their physical forms slowly destroy themselves. I fear our discovery by humans spells the end of my species.
And where am I? After having been 'alive' for millions of years, the humans found me. Captured me. I, too am now being exploited, however for what purpose I do not know. My only knowledge is that I am in interstellar space, on bored a craft that shares the same 'name' as myself.
The name humans have given me was "Voyager".
Unlike the violent intense event that gave me life. My death will be cold, boring and dark.
|
**Disclaimer: I'm really sorry, after writing out the nonsense below, I realised I had read the prompt incorrectly and kind of left out the part in which 'nobody found out the character was immortal/not evolving.' Thought I'd post it regardless:**
"Kevin, just pass me the pad." Kevin is my 'older' brother. Well, he's my foster brother. I was adopted by the Kleindron family earlier this year. This marks the .. well, I don't even know how many families I've been fostered too. Probably too many would be an accurate guess. My name is Sam and I'm a 4 million year old 14 year old, cursed to live out my life in this teenage body for the rest of eternity.
"Oh so you want me to beat you on Mario Karts Zx20+Alpha and you also want me to pass you the pad? Where will it end, Sam? Where will it end?" replied Kevin.
"You can pass it with your mind, Kevin, I have to get out of my bubble seat to reach it. Stop being a butthole."
"I don't have a butthole, Sam. I have evolved beyond the need of a butthole. I am butthole-less. You know this." professed Kevin in a very condescending tone.
"Is that why so much shit comes out of your mouth?"
The pad hurled telekinetically across the room directly in to my face. Kevin sat laughing in his chair as I nursed the place on my head it had thundered in to.
"Right, that's it. Let's go. Year 2000-style." I stood up, and put up my dukes, waving Kevin on while pretending the now large red mark on my head didn't hurt.
Kevin rose. All 9ft of him. His 4 arms began warming up.
"Let's go, Goro."
"Who the fuck is Goro?" asked Kevin.
I charged straight at him ignoring the fact he could read my every thought. He dodged my sweet roundhouse kick attempt and began to float in the air, goading me on to have another go at him.
"Every time we fight this happens. When will you learn?" boasted Kevin.
I charged again. I failed again.
"This isn't fair. You know exactly what I'm going to do each time I attack, you Psycho Mantis prick."
"Nobody understands your references, Sam. You need to update your references." barked Kevin who was still floating in the air, his 4 index fingers pointing towards me.
"They're really apt references!" I screamed as I launched another assault.
Enter my Foster Dad. "What is this ruckus?! Sam, are your trying to fight your big brother again?" He stood at the kinetic door, his 9 eyed, impenetrable skinned face painted with anger. "I should have known the second I sensed that sweet roundhouse kick you attempted before that there was trouble down here."
"I'm over 4 million years old, Dad. I can fight whoever I want to fight!"
"Not while you live in my space house!" he bellowed. "Now get to your biometric chambers before I put one of my 19 feet down."
| 2015-12-09T06:18:33 | 2015-12-09T05:58:59 | 157 | 21 |
[WP] You're a teller at a bank. Three masked men walk in, unarmed, and proceed to commit the most passive aggressive bank robbery in history
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The man dropped a canvas sack on the table between us, while his two friends crowded in behind him.
"I'm sure you're *really* busy, but if it's not *too* much trouble, can you go ahead and fill this sack with $100,000 in tens and twenties?"
"Okay," I said, pulling the sack behind the desk. "Do you happen to have your bank card or a completed withdrawal slip? I'm sure you guys have *all kinds* of important things lined up for the day, so let's get you out of here quick quick quick."
"Actually...Don," he said, somehow misreading my name tag from less than a meter away. "Being the real real smart guy I bet you are, I'm sure you can handle this *sans paperwork* if you get my meaning. We are, like you said, very busy men, so we appreciate you giving us that A-plus effort you're undoubtedly known around the world for."
"Yes, yes, of course!" I said, flapping the sack through the air like a fresh trash bag. "Tens and twenties! For my three new friends here. These denominations? Are they for your Sunday tithe? Or handouts to the city's many homeless and needy? No, no! Don't tell me. You'll make me blush with your magnanimity and generosity. Here we go! Quick quick, for my brave, generous friends here."
"Well," sniffed the man, pulling the ballcap further down his face. "Alas that so few of us have the intelligence, patience, verve, and - I'm sure - impeccable bloodlines to have attained the noble rank of *bank teller*. Your mere existence shames us with it's glorious splendor. And the way you ever *ever* so slowly toss the bundles of bills into that sack? The sign of a true craftsman. What tragedy that we cannot linger and watch the entirety of such fine, *deliberate* work."
"You humble me!" I shouted, pulling individual bills from their billfolds and laying them neatly in the cavernous bag. "To be appreciated in one's lifetime! And by one's as wise and hardworking as you three? How divine! I may have to retire as soon as this bag is full."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"What a loss!" shouted back the man. "Not only for your industry, but the world as a whole! Pray reconsider!"
"But how?" I said, emptying the bag and starting again. "All other customers will pale in comparison. Today I have served *THE GODS*. How can I go back to attending the whims of mere mortals? How, I ask you? HOW?"
"But others must know of the glory of your works!"
"Speak no more! I blush! I weep!"
"How selfish it would be to have seen such *skill* and *aptitude* and not encourage it to be shared..."
"What the fuck are you two talking about?"
I turned. Two police officers stood behind the men.
"Um, they're robbing the bank. And they're doing a *super* great job of it."
"You're an asshole," said the man as the police cuffed him and dragged him away.
"No sir. *I'm a bank teller.*"
|
I always love watching the sunlight play as it passes through the colored glass above the entrance to the bank. It seldom busy so I have plenty of time. Usually people come to withdraw money after work, older people come for their money around 12 and the rest of the time its just a few odd people every once in a while. Its quite a good job being a bank teller.
Its now 11am, usually there is just a person or two in the entire bank. But now a group of people has walked in, they are wearing masks but I dont see any weapons and they arent really acting suspiciously. They just calmly walked in and sat down awaiting their turn since im the only teller and there are two people infront of them.
Im done with one of the people so now there is only one person ahead of the masked men. They are still seated calmly, they appear to be reading a magazine. When the old lady I had just serviced walked past them and dropped a pen one of them quickly rushed over and picked it up for her. Another one of them even rushed to open the door for her.
I am still not sure if I should trip the silent alarm, my manager has seen them but he didnt trip it or call for security.
Its their turn. They walked to my stall and the man who appeared to be their leader sat down. He seems calm although the mask conceals most of his face. His voice is old and rugged, the kind of voice that instills fear, but they are still so calm and unthreatning that im not afraid.
The leader told me an account number of a different bank and asked me to wire 25 million to that account. I was less afraid and more confused. What did he mean. Transfer it from where. So I asked him.
He said very calmly but not silently that this was a robbery and if I could please wire the money to that account. Luckily noone else was in the bank to hear him but even if they were I doubt the men would harm them.
I then informed the man that in order to deposit such funds I would need my manager to come over and aprove the transfer and the man seemed fine with it. So I called my manager on the phone as he was now out of sight in the back office and said to him :"Hey, could you please come over here, we are being robbed and I need your codes to confirm the money transfer." The man surely heard me tell my manager but he didnt seem fazed. He just asked me how long this would take explaining he had to be home for lunch, his wife was cooking lasagna.
So my manager comes over obviously panicing and I saw that he had tripped the silent alarm which would bring the police within a few minutes. But he was no hero trying to stall the robbers. So he just input his codes and authorised the money transfer.
The men then stood up and thanked me for my help, then they just walked out peacefully. I looked after them and I saw them get into a non descript white van that was waiting right outside the bank and then they just drove off.
Im now done with the police interviews and it appears they dont have any leads on the men. The bank account they transfered the money into has already been emptied and could not be followed, and despite the men being here for a while, nobody could provide a good description of them, nor did they leave any fingerprints or dna. They seem to have gotten away with it.
New to this so please provide feedback
| 2016-08-11T07:23:52 | 2016-08-11T05:09:53 | 199 | 22 |
[WP] Two habitable planets in the same orbit but travelling in opposite directions cross paths twice a year just close enough to brush each other's atmosphere. Six months ago the first balloon expedition successfully crossed, today everyone waits in excitement for the explorers anticipated return.
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Interplanetary Airship Expedition Journal Day 1, First Officer J. H. Smoot:
With great fanfare, we aeronauts of the H.M.A.S Lagrange set off to visit the strange world we call Nemesis that has tantalized us for so many centuries. We have ascended to 10,000 meters; the captain will do his inspection and the navigator will confirm our course before l before we drop ballast and climb further. Winds remain favorable.
Interplanetary Airship Expedition Journal Day 2, First Officer J. H. Smoot:
It is a glorious morning. We have ascended to the highest point yet experienced by man. The Lagrange was tossed about like a child’s toy by turbulent winds. The navigator estimates that we were traveling over 150km/hr at times. We estimate that we are 60km in altitude. The air is frigid but our fur-lined leathers are protecting us well enough. Outside of the pressurized cabin, the crew has to wear breathing tanks. They are cumbersome and the brass fittings are prone to freezing up. The chief engineer has determined that the alarming expansion of the gas bags is within tolerance and we shall drop final ballast within the hour.
Interplanetary Airship Expedition Journal Day 3, First Officer J. H. Smoot:
We have encountered a terrifying absence of gravity. We make our way around with ropes and hand holds. The navigator reports that we have stalled in our ascent. The Captain decided to abort this attempt and ordered the gas bags to be slowly deflated but we have not descended. We are at a loss. The crew is growing concerned as we only have a week’s worth of air supply.
Interplanetary Airship Expedition Journal Day 6, First Officer J. H. Smoot:
Our distance between our home world and Nemesis seems to be growing equally greater but we still have not changed relative position between the two. The crewmen are growing tense and the air is beginning to foul. One crewman tried to jump overboard only to slowly float out of reach while flailing wildly. Several hours later, his body can still be seen with a spyglass.
Interplanetary Airship Expedition Journal Day 8, First Officer J. H. Smoot:
I am having trouble concentrating and I have a pounding headache. The crew has given up hope. The Captain ordered the Sergeant at Arms to issue pistols with a single shot of ball and powder to the crew upon request. So far, 8 of the 12 enlisted men and 2 of 4 officers, including the Captain have taken the coward’s escape. The stars are so beautiful. Damn this doldrum of the air.
Interplanetary Airship Expedition Memorial Plaque
This memorial stands tribute to the brave men of the H.M.A.S Lagrange. They gave their lives for King and Country and in the spirit of exploration and the pursuit of knowledge. Let it be known henceforth that in their honor, the point of in space where the combined gravitational forces of two large bodies, such as Earth and Nemesis cancel one another shall be known as the Lagrange Point.
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It was actually admirable, the sheer amount of names we'd conjured up to mark the day. Some chimed in with "Balloon Day", others opting for the more movie-esque "Crossover Day". I didn't really feel the need to place pet-names on such a momentous task - I just referred to it as "the day"; "the day's coming soon, better book the time off" I'd say to friends and family.
And come it did. Thousands gathered in the towns of the world, all holding their own respective celebration. Jubilation was rife as tremendous firework displays illuminated the skies above, the cheers of a billion children and adults alike echoing past every last mountain and tree. The coverage on the television was extraordinary. As a counter devoured the entire lower half of screens placed around many town centres, excitement grew and grew until the counter reached the one minute mark.
It was as though you could hear the whooping and cheering of every beating heart on the planet, as thousands a second chimed in with the communal shouting of the countdown - *nine*, *eight*, *seven*, *six*.
The people of our town had set up a gargantuan telescope in the center of Plask Field. Gazing through the lens onto the ever-approaching planetary body, the atmosphere tensed ever so slightly as the countdown reached its final digits.
*Five*.
*Four*.
*Three*.
A ghastly shadow began creeping along the surface of the world. Since we were quite high up, it hadn't reached us until this moment. A communal "ooo" was enough to keep everyone's spirits skyrocketing, as the counting climaxed.
*Two*.
The ever-so-slightly visible surface of a balloon caught the majority's eye. The cheers raised in volume, phones were raised higher than before, and....
*One!*
Touchdown. And in that instant, it was over. The planet swooped over everyone's heads, eerily silent - passing, crossing - a fleeting and momentary affair. As the body continued behind, most looked back down at their phones - or at the television - to see where the balloon had landed.
The only issue was, it hadn't. The thousands waiting eagerly at the drop zone - in the middle of the water just south of the equator (an event that required a large sum of money and a limited capacity) - must have been dying for their money back. But the world had a suddenly more pressing issue - where did these elusive travellers wind up? Tangled in a tree somewhere? Sinking as we spoke? The questions raised like wildfire.
I went back inside to put the kettle on. *It's all sensationalist*, I thought as steam began to slowly rise from the spout. *They'll find them within a few hours, and we'll all cheer a bit and then go to bed*. As the sun dipped ever-so-slightly beyond the horizon, people remained outside; those that decided to leave kept glued to their notifications to hear any more news - the rest either sitting, standing or even camping. It was a sense of togetherness that had a somewhat melancholy note woven into it all of a sudden - would they ever turn up?
| 2016-08-11T11:58:51 | 2016-08-11T10:47:44 | 1,035 | 74 |
[WP] You possess an ability to turn off one or more of your senses to heighten the others. Today is the day you make a mistake.
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I've known how to use my powers since I was young. I could turn off my hearing when mom yelled, turn off my smelling when the dog farted, that sort of thing. I've been pushing it further recently. Yeah, I've gotten hurt a few times. But when you can turn off feeling pain, it's not so bad.
I purposely fell hard in front of a pretty girl at the park. I knew she would run over and I could ask for her number. I started jogging in her direction and just as I came upon her, I thought "I don't want to feel this." And then I fell. HARD.
I slammed down on the sidewalk, hitting my chin with incredible force. It was a messy ordeal. But it worked. She ran over in concern. I ended up with her number. It was my greatest day using my powers.
But I did not realize.
I did not know.
All of these years, my powers were the best thing about me. I used them to my advantage without consequence. I used them to shape my relationship and got myself exactly where I wanted to be in life. But as I sit here, watching my wife get ready for bed, the only thing in the world I want is for my powers to go away. I would do anything to go back and realize just how damaging it could all be.
Here I am, beckoning my bride to bed and I feel..... nothing.
|
I was born with awareness of each of my senses and the ability to turn them off and on. When one sense was of the others increased. I used the skill to eavesdrop, look at other people's test, and other mundane things. I was strolling through the park. I had turned off hearing and sat on a bench so that I could see all the animals in their daily routine.
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my lower back. I screamed in pain the mugger fled. People came to help. All I could think was wanting the pain to stop. Suddenly it did. This was the first time I realised I could turn off more than one sense at a time, and that I could turn off my sense of touch. Suddenly it all went dark.
I awoke in a hospital. The police arrived shortly after I woke up and told me what happened. Somebody had walked up behind me and demanded everything on me. They wondered how I didn't hear him but didn't ask many questions. Apparently he got angry that I was just ignoring him and decided to stab me. Doctors came in and explained my situation. The knife have nicked a couple organs, but worse had given my a nasty infection. Due to whatever was on the knifes blade. I was gonna be hear a while.
My family and friends kept my company as much as they could, but they had work or school. One day while alone and bored. I decided to turn off every sense at once. I focused on smell then hearing then sight then touch then everything. As I focused everything become nothing.
Years later doctors still wondered at the strange case.
| 2016-08-24T08:36:59 | 2016-08-24T07:13:48 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] You're a middle school custodian, cleaning up the school is your job. So when a group of men take the school hostage, they are no exception. You have a mess to clean.
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"Right, is everyone here?" the masked gunman barked as the children and teachers cowered in the hall. "Everyone better be here, or heads will roll."
The hostages gave quick, frightened nods as the five men circled them.
One let off a shot at the ceiling, drawing panicked screams and cries from the crowd. "I'm looking for a kid - Billy Atkins. Rich brat. His dad's on the board of this school. Well, his dad owes us a lot of money, so we thought we'd take little Billy from school a little early today. Where is he?"
Everyone glanced around in fear, looking for Billy - he usually wore the nicest clothes of all the children. No-one could see a hint of his bright blonde hair anywhere. One child opened his mouth to say he'd seen Billy sent to detention earlier that day, but fell silent as he saw the guns the men were holding. They were scary-looking guns.
A frail voice spoke into the silence. The masked man looked up to see a thin old man with a trolley of cleaning supplies standing in the doorway.
"Heard you fellas talking about young Billy when you were discussing your plans outside the building. Gotta be careful about that, you never know who might be listening. I was cleaning the pavement nearby," he said with a smile. "I'm afraid Billy's not here. He was messing around with my cleaning supplies again this morning, and I sent him to the principal's office. He's probably in detention. Cleaning something somewhere himself somewhere as punishment, I bet. Well, makes my job easier."
The old man wheeled his trolley away, leaving the men stunned. Did the crazy asshole even realise what he was dealing with?
The leader of the men set off after the janitor, machine gun ready. He found him at the end of the hallway, mopping up a stain as if everything was just fine and fucking dandy.
"Hey, grandpa, what did you -" he began, when the old man turned to him armed with a spray bottle, his free hand tucked all relaxed into his jacket pocket.
The masked man relaxed his own gun and burst out laughing. "You think that's going to..."
"No," the old janitor said, and pulled out the gun he'd kept concealed in his pocket. "I know about cleaning up properly."
He gave a single shot, leaving a small crater right between the man's eyes. He wrested the machine gun from the dead man's hands, and waited. Soon enough, the other four came running into the hallway.
It was over in ten minutes - you could tell these boys had never been in the army. Amateurs. Blood was splattered in crazy patterns across the hallway, as the men lay slumped with bullets in their skulls.
"I just cleaned this," he sighed, and began getting his supplies. He ignored the screams of the children as they poured into the hallway to look. Little pissbuckets never could stomach a bit of dirt.
He only looked up when the math teacher, Mr Frederik Arnolds, touched his shoulder gingerly.
"Eddie, what *happened*?" he whispered, his eyes wide and horrified behind his glasses as he took in the sight of the men lying in pools of blood.
"Self-defence," Eddie grunted. "I always keep a gun on my person in case of emergency messes, like this. You sorry I acted?"
"No, of course not," Frederik said uncertainly. "I'm sure the authorities will understand - you protected the children, after all. Well, uhm, anyway...have to go call the cops. And find Billy Atkins. You said he was in detention? Where can I find him? He should be able to shed some light on this..."
Eddie looked at the teacher, and wondered what to say.
What did this man know about taking care of a mess - really taking care of it? Billy would only have invited more messes like this in the future. Like a piece of rotten meat, attracting flies. You didn't just swat the flies, you had to toss the meat out to prevent more flies from coming. But you couldn't tell a man like Frederik *that*.
Besides, Frederik never had that spoiled little toad mess with *his* supplies, stealing his stuff, making messes on purpose to see him have to clean it up again. He didn't know exactly how rotten Billy had been.
"Oh, Billy. I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later. Or maybe his parents came and got him. I bet that's what happened," Eddie said, grinning in a way that made Frederik feel even more uneasy. "Bet his parents took him right out of school."
-----
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
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In reality, I had been preparing for this moment my whole life. Being a janitor is boring. Really boring. Yeah, for the first couple years it is interesting to watch the kids do stupid stuff, but after you've seen the same wedgie 50 times in a row it starts to get old. That's when I started imagining all of the different disasters that could beset the school and what I would do in response.
3 tornadoes and a bear loose in the halls? Got that covered. 15 rabid porcupines loose in the band room? I have a plan for that. A group of men taking the school hostage? I've had a plan for that for 20 years. I might be old, but I know the school by heart and I have mastered my tools.
The thing about being old is that no one suspects you. Being a janitor doubles that effect. I am immediately 4 times more lethal than anyone would expect, as a result. Did I mention that these thick glasses aren't because I can't see? They are hacked into the schools CCTV system. I know where you are, bad guys.
I move resolutely down the hall in the way that only old men can move, pushing my mop and bucket as I go. There's a group of three around the corner armed with automatic weapons. I slowly push the bucket around the corner so I don't startle them. They look at me in amusement and partial disbelief. One of them smiles as he ridicules me for my old age.
To say that I wipe the smile off his face is an understatement. The force of the blow from my mop would have been enough to do the job, but the fact that I was using a high concentration of acid in the bucket put it into the category of 'extreme.' Their partial disbelief turned to pure horror as their partner's face melted off, but their horror only lasted for an instant. They were next.
One group down, two more to go. I could have kept going with my acid mop technique, but I had been planning on something like this for way too long to have it gown down as a one trick pony. I could see exactly how the next move was going to go.
That is to say, I could see how it was going to go, but they wouldn't. Being janitor, you get to know the electrical quirks of this old building. Flip this light-switch once, that one twice, plug a fan in over there.. and all of the ceiling lights go down for five minutes. My glasses also have nightvision and thermal imaging. I've been saving my money for a while - getting cozy with the food servers helps with that.
I go into the now black room completely aware of my surroundings. I have my broom and dustpan in hand, but my dustpan will be enough. Do you know how many dustpans I've gone through trying to figure out how to get every last bit of dirt up off the ground? There are dozens of manufactures. But, if you want to get the most dirt up, you've got to sharpen the edge of these bad boys yourself. Sharp enough to cut a man's throat with ease, sharp. Or, three men's throats to be exact.
One group left. This group was holding the principal and vice principal hostage. And that one hot, middle-aged secretary. I've been taking stock out of their cabinets for a while just so she would have to call me to bring more. I would need to take special care of this group, to say the least.
The floor waxing machine is pretty loud. Loud enough to let someone know you're coming, and also loud enough for them to know you can't hear them. As I push the door open with my back, I was taking a risk. They could have shot me at any moment... but I'm just a harmless old janitor. Plus, it wouldn't hurt them to have an extra person to make an example of if their demands weren't met quick enough.
There were evil grins on their faces as they approached me. I had turned towards them now, a bewildered look on my face. You know, the kind of old-man look that says, "I'm old. What the heck is going on? Where's my other shoe?" They were close enough now, but I wanted them closer. I wanted to feel my wrath. I wanted to impress that secretary. I wanted to feel young again.
I had always been a fan of Karate Kid. I especially love the scene where he had to "wax on, wax off." That's been my job for years. Not exactly with wax, but with glass windows. With chalkboards. With walls and whatever those crazy emos rubbed on them that one year. My hands moved like hawks, my fingers poised like snakes. I weaved past their scrambled blocks as I attacked. Their eyes were mine. Their jugulars were theirs to keep, but they would have to make due with them being crushed.
"I cleaned up the mess for you, principal."
| 2016-11-18T07:48:37 | 2016-11-18T07:26:36 | 267 | 61 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."
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My finger froze on top of the button. "What do you mean things get nasty? What happens when I let go?"
The desk vibrated as her phone rang. "I'm so sorry, I have to take this."
"What's goi-"
"Anita Hayes, Senior VP of Human Resources" as her name tag had read, stood up from behind the desk and curtly exited the room, phone pressed to ear.
"Hey! What kind of job interview this? What happens if I let go!?"
*What's going on?* I turned and looked at my surroundings. It was a warmly decorated office, lined with bookshelves. In the middle sat a large mahogany desk behind which sat a regal leather desk chair. The button in question was medium sized, built into a steel setting which was then screwed into the top left corner of the desk. Now that it was pressed down it was illuminated red.
*Okay, don't let go of the button. Got it.* My hands began to sweat as I looked for a solution. Holding the button down I worked my way around the desk and opened the drawers. Nothing. Completely empty other than a stapler, some pliers, and some folders. The stapler didn't look heavy enough to hold the button down. From my new view I spotted a roll of tape sitting on a shelf in the back of the room. Clearly out of reach, but it would surely hold the button down.
This is surely a test to judge my logical reasoning skills, I thought to myself. It was down to the last three applicants, but the $450K/year salary seemed as far away as the tape on the shelf.
*Hmm.* The tape is the obvious solution. *But how do I reach it?* There has to be another solution. How do I make myself stand out from the other applicants? I *need* this job. I *deserve* this job. I've worked so hard for this opportunity.
Then it hit me. All or nothing. Keeping my hand on the button, I used my forearm to swipe everything off the desk in two smooth motions. Then, I gripped the edge of the desk with my free hand and heaved it over, being careful not to let go of the button. The desk was now on its side. Again I heaved, this time turning the desk upside down. My fingers gingerly slipped out from under the desk top as the weight of the desk took over, keeping the button pressed.
Just then the door opened, "What are you doing!?"
"I know it's not the obvious, or most efficient solution to the test, but I wanted to show you i'm capable of thinking outside the box and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. And it worked! The button is still held down!"
"What test? The button? That's a joke! It doesn't do anything! I stepped out because the school called, my kid is sick."
"Oh... I'll show myself out."
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######[](#dropcap)
Hilary Flint grinned despite himself.
"*Clever girl...* So happens next?"
The red-haired Fae smiled and bent down to peck him on the cheek. "Now I go and you stay. That trigger is connected enough Gelignite to blow you and everything around you for twenty paces into ashes. Think well of me, love."
"Every second of every day," Flint replied, admiring the view as she moved towards the exit. "Oh, and Morgan?"
She turned, a sliver of a smile on her lips. "Yes?"
"You're still the same heartless bitch I knew when I was twenty- you've just gotten better."
"Crueler," corrected Morgan the Fae. "And you're still the same impetuous, reckless idiot I knew when I was three hundred. You've just gotten bolder."
"Bette-" Flint began to say, but she vanished in a whirlwind of feathers as black as coal. Instead he sighed and cracked his neck, and settled down for the wait.
Faith Alathir arrive some five hours later, her face etched with annoyance. "Where in the blazes were you? I was forced to listen to some Spriggan ambassador's drivel for what seemed like forever. I nearly was about to slap him just to get to shut up. The least you could've done was clodger up some excuse for me to remove mysel- *oh, shit.*"
Flint waved at her- with his free hand obviously. His other hand was red from the constant pressure placed onto the button, and it was obvious that the strain of maintaining the effort was beginning to take its toll.
"Take my advice, kid. When a beautiful woman shows up wearing nothing but a smile, don't take her up on an offer of sport and play."
"You got played," said Faith bluntly.
"I got played," agreed Flint. He'd dragged a blanket over himself so that at least he had some degree of decency, though it was obvious by the state of the bedroom that something very amorous had recently occurred.
"Now listen, Faith. According to an unreliable source I'm currently holding down the trigger to enough explosive to blow myself to kingdom come, and I don't have a disarming kit. And my hand's beginning to cramp."
Faith took a half-step back. "What are the chances it's a fake bomb?"
Flint shrugged. "Pretty good. But we're talking about a Elf who'd once placed a spellmine underneath a child's doll just to kill the parent. Her double-crosses have a dozen layers to them, and even her lies usually true. It's a fifty/fifty shot that it's real. I *really* don't like those odds."
"So what do we do?"
"*We* do nothing. *I* see how much longer I can hold this and how far the pieces of me are likely to fly if I'm right. ....I don't want to be right."
| 2017-01-05T11:43:41 | 2017-01-05T10:11:42 | 231 | 13 |
[WP] You own a magical camera that is similar to a thermal camera, but instead of heat it shows you value. A ring glows as bright as the sun while a piece of plastic wrapping is almost invisible. You have been careful never to look at a person with it for your whole life.
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"James, don't forget your jacket!" Shouted my mother as the school bus pulled towards the curb, and she ran forward to smooth down my hair with a comb. I stopped in front of the mirror on my way out, making sure my collar was straight, my pants were wrinkle free, and my face clean. Usually, like the typical sixth grader I did not care much for my appearance.
But today was different. Today, was picture day.
And I had to be ready for the camera.
I still remember my older brother's picture day, when he came home with his yearbook clasped tightly between his palms, and opened it to show our parents the shining star above his name. Few were as bright as his- maybe a few future doctors, politicians, and athletic stars. By that night he'd received three differenet acceptance letters to prestigious colleges, and four scholarships. Of course, my parents were proud.
But now I had to follow his footsteps.
So I'd prepared the entire year. The camera was a reflection of an individual's future worth to society, and I prepared by strengthening my own worth. I thought of ways to improve life for those less fortunate, ways to help the bleaker pictures prosper. And I wondered why some of these things had not been done before- why we put so much trust in the picture system, why no one would buy my uncle andy's painted pictures despite their beauty because his picture had not been bright, and why my mothers sister was still unmarried because no man wanted to be paired with a "neutral image".
So by the time I sat in front of the camera, I had it all figured out. The way I would better society, that I would give those with a negative picture a second chance.
And I smiled, as the photographer adjusted the lense, and the bulb flashed.
He refused to make eye contact with me as I hopped down from the stool, and he showed me the image. Not even a glimmer, no spark, *nothing*. And by the end of the day the principal had me transferred to the special school next door, the police had visited me to start their monitoring program, and my math teacher who had once called me bright removed the high scoring test I had taken from her display board.
And as I grew older, I think I realized why it happened. Especially as I started to fight for some of the equality concepts I had thought about earlier.
The image reflected value to society, or the positive impact I would have. Since my image was dark, that meant many of them must have come true in the future.
And as I was to learn in the coming years, society did not like my ideas.
***
By Leo
If you like this story, you'll like my Sci Fi! [Check out my free web serial The Bridge about a starship lost in outer space, with inhabitants barely clinging to survival.](https://leonardpetracci.com/the-bridge/)
|
It had been months since Jerry had used the camera. It's ability to show value had cemented him a very prosperous bank account. He had moved from his run down studio flat into what could only be described as a castle. It was beautiful, beautiful but cold. Paintings lined its walls, their value found by the camera he had bought at a yard sale for thirty bucks. Jerry enjoyed his paintings, but he wished they were photos. Frozen images of loved ones. Of friends. Jerry had none of those though.
As he ran his bath a thought occurred to him. It wasn't a new thought. It was a haunting one.
*'What is it all actually worth?'*
Jerry mumbled to himself as he undressed. The floor of his bathroom was like a frozen lake on the soles of his feet. He stopped and stared into his reflection. His naked hairless chest and pot belly disgusted him. He stared long enough that he cracked. Naked, he ran to his safe.
*'five, five, seven, nine, two.'* Jerry needed to whisper the combination to himself. It had been too long since he used the camera, had the safe of been in view, it would have been covered in dust. In fact the camera had managed to gather dust itself. He reached in and removed the camera. He switched it on and checked the battery. There was just enough. Jerry walked back to the bathroom. The floor was warm now, warm and wet. More time had passed then he had realised. He made his way to the steaming bath and turned the running water off.
As Jerry lifted the camera up off the counter top his reflection caught his eye again. He shuddered in revolt.
*'You disgust me, I'll show you what you're worth. I'll show you your God damn value.'*
He waited a moment, pointed the camera towards the mirror and slowly crept his face to the viewfinder.
Black. Complete darkness. It had never been that dark. Ever. Jerry had always suspected it, almost accepted it but as he looked with one eye into the void it suck the last thing he had out of him. Hope was gone. Jerry placed the camera back down on the white marble counter top as he knelt down and opened the cupboard below it. He pulled out and removed the top off of two bottles of small white pills he had been hoarding for a short time. As he slowly swallowed the pills a handful at a time he got bored of staring down his own reflection.
It was at that point he decided he wanted to be warm. Jerry broke his gaze and slipped peacefully into the overfilled copper bathtub. He laid back neck deep in the calm water as he swallowed the last of his little white divine releases. Jerry placed his head back and closed his eyes. The room filled with steam as all the movement had stopped. The camera, still with its dust, undisturbed on its lens cover, gave out a beep as its battery died.
| 2017-01-15T09:59:41 | 2017-01-15T09:37:40 | 667 | 237 |
[WP] You own a magical camera that is similar to a thermal camera, but instead of heat it shows you value. A ring glows as bright as the sun while a piece of plastic wrapping is almost invisible. You have been careful never to look at a person with it for your whole life.
|
I found it at a thrift store years ago, this small little camera that has changed my life. At first I wasn't sure what to make of the bright lights I saw in it, but slowly came to realize they showed the value of things.
It wasn't always monetary, sometimes it was value in a current situation, or value in the future. For example, if I was starving after a long day unsuccessfully searching yet another garage sale for valuables, a turkey sandwich in the fridge gave a nice warm glow.
I walked through the aisles of the thrift store, eyes pressed against the two viewfinders. The occasional soft glow turned my head, but I wasn't about go on another eBay adventure, searching down the one person who would buy a rare Russian children's toy.
I looked through the entire store, but nothing particularly stood out. The Kitchenware section in particular looked like shelves full of see-through ghostly objects. Well, let me take a second look at this grandfather clock, see if there's anything inside that would--
"Hello, do you need any help?"
Absentmindedly I swung to face the voice, camera still stuck on my face. The light that filled my vision...it was encompassing. It was if I stood on the surface of the sun and stared downward.
I had a brief view of the most beautiful face I had ever seen: dimples that curved in a perfect way, soft eyes that crinkled at the edges. A sight that was quite literally burned into my eyes...but just for a moment.
The next moment, all was black.
I blinked.
Still black.
It didn't hurt. It didn't sting.
I swung my head from side to side, hoping for even the briefest shimmer. But no, nothing. I was blind.
My head spun, and the camera fell from my hands. With an awful crunch, it hit the floor on its corner, cracking the casing and shattering whatever delicate mechanisms lay inside.
"Oh no! Oh god! I'm so sorry!" The voice cried out, "I didn't mean to startle you! Oh no, it looks like I really...oh wow I'm sorry. Are...are you alright?"
I stood, stunned, "I... I can't see."
I bent down, my hands scrambling for the camera. Maybe I could reverse it. Maybe I could make all this right.
"Here, let me help you." A pair of hands touched my own as I reached the camera. Warm, caring hands. My fingers gripped the sides of the camera hard, bending the metal casing.
"I'm so sorry." The voice said again, the hands squeezed my own.
With a deep breath, I released the camera, and gently took hold of the pair of hands. The warm, caring hands. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still see that image burned into my head. I smiled.
|
I'd gotten pretty used to the camera. I could pretty much guess what objects would glow bright and which would be dull, almost invisible or even almost black. It seemed as though monitary value was what it measured and that's why I didn't ever point it at people. I didn't want to view people I cared about as dollar amounts. I never would have pointed it at people except for one unexpected event. I was walking down a dirty street in the middle of the city, checking if my understanding of the camera was right. Trash can, a dirty faded brown, hardly any light to it. Plastic grocery bag floating a few feet off the ground, looked like a ghost through the camera but I'd seen that before. I was watching the plastic bag through the camera, being almost transparent it was kind of mesmerizing but as it hit the ground, something blinding flew in front of it. I wrenched the camera away from my face, I had to see what that was. What could possibly glow like that? But the ally appeared empty. I wasn't going to accept that nothing did that. I started pushing piles of trash out of the way in the direction the blinding light went. A faint whimper made me hesitate before pulling back one more bag. And there he was, the saddest eyes I had ever seen with a face that was desperate for love. It was a dog, a mangy thing that was very underweight, an injury to one of his front legs.
"Mom, I couldn't just leave him there. He would have died in days. That thing on his leg is probably infected!"
"I understand that you wanted to help him but half the family is coming over, where do you plan on keeping the flea infested thing while everyone's over?"
"I'll keep him in the garage and tomorrow I'll take him to the vet and to get flea medicine."
Everyone showed up about 20 minutes later. The family barbecue was delicious but I was distracted. I was so curious now, instead of scared. The dog didn't make any money, but he was the brightest thing I had ever seen. I pulled out my camera and started pointing it at people and I was amazed. But it also seemed right. My little niece Ella was a brilliant ball of sunshine, my creepy uncle Glen was a grimy green color that I wouldn't touch if I found it in nature. My mother was a soft orange, vibrant but subdued. It seemed like innocence and love were the valuable things as far as people were concerned. I looked at my grandfather, he was 97, he had suffered a stroke a few years ago and wasn't really himself anymore. He was almost as transparent as the plastic bag. It was sad to see but I understood. He was going to die soon, that wasn't a difficult logical leap. A strange thought popped into my head. I turned the camera around and pointed it at my face. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it thought of me but at the same time I couldn't resist. I took a picture and turned the camera to look at the thumbnail.
I was a see through gray.
| 2017-01-15T10:16:08 | 2017-01-15T10:02:21 | 199 | 48 |
[WP] The Government releases an App allowing citizens to chose where their taxes are spent.
|
Congress defunded the app soon after half of Americans spent their taxes to build the Great wall of Texas. Problems arose when the other half used their taxes to build tunnels under the walls. All in all it was a really silly idea.
Oh, me? Well I spent my taxes on hookers and blow, I'm a secret service agent.
|
>You have always been very political, but couldn't do anything to change the government.
>That will change now!
>Welcome to Tak-Zs. An innovation in democracy!
>Now, you can help!
>With this new app, you can manually change how your taxes are spent.
>Visit *tak-zs.gov* to learn more
Dennis saw the ad. He knew that this would not work, and he was correct.
| 2017-02-19T18:59:07 | 2017-02-19T17:40:35 | 81 | 22 |
[WP] It has been quite some time since Great Britain has called upon it's Knights. This morning every person, celebrity, and politician Knighted by The Queen received a letter demanding they report for duty in service of The Kingdom, signed by her Majesty.
|
John Cleese heard the news and laughed bitterly. He had been right all along—accepting a Knighthood from the Queen came with strings attached. By the grace of God, he’d declined when she offered. He turned to watch the telly.
“Please help,” the Queen said. She wore a blindfold and a frilly blue hat. “I have been kidnapped by North Korean agents. The Supreme Leader will release me on one condition.”
Pubs across the country fell silent with anticipation. In the suburbs, mothers told their children to stop watching and go upstairs. In the city, stockbrokers told would-be traders to wait. In former colonial possessions, telemarketers put the people they were talking to on hold.
“The Supreme Leader,” the Queen said, reading from cue cards, “invites all living recipients of the Order of the British Empire to attend this year’s Arirang Mass Games in Pyongyang.” Her voice trembled. She knew she was asking too much. “The Arirang Mass Games are the greatest show on earth. At five years old, the most talented gymnasts in Korea enter the guild of the tumblers and devote their lives to the Arirang. It is the Supreme Show.” She sobbed. “Performers from the decadent West—those that have received a knighthood—may perform in the *Rungrado 1st of May Stadium* following the Arirang. If the West's chosen performer can outperform the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, I will be freed. If not…” the Queen’s eyes fluttered helplessly, “I am lost.”
The video feed cut away. Bono appeared onscreen, wearing orange-tinted sunglasses and talking to a reporter.
“Aye vahlunteer,” he said, “Aye’ll gowe ‘n sing my sung ‘n sayve th’ Queenie.”
John Cleese shook his head in disappointment. He should have accepted that Knighthood. He began to play *Taps* on a kazoo.
---
>>>/r/trrh
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Her Majesty the Queen Elizabeth II, Monarch of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and Head of the Commonwealth of Nations,
Hereby calls upon all knighted subjects of the Realm to come to the dutiful service of the Crown.
Recent events have brought into question the loyalty of certain high-ranking members of the armed forces and the political system to their Kingdom and their rightful Queen. Over countless centuries and bloody battles, the Monarchy has withstood and overcome greater challenges to its status as the unfailing bastion of the Realm and the British spirit it guards. In this moment of uncertainty, it must be ever more swift and certain in dealing with the adversity which struck those whose life serves no other purpose than that of the Country.
So as to ensure the integrity and sovereignty of our Nation's most supreme institution, Her Majesty has invoked and declared absolute powers, disbanded the treacherous Parliament, and ordered the arrest of the orchestrators of this most vile conspiracy against the Royal Family and the Crown. The Tower of London has been restored to its historical purpose as the detention site of these individuals until proper punitive action can be taken for their heinous acts of High Treason.
Being called to defend the Realm at an hour of dire need is undoubtedly the greatest honour any subject of the Crown will ever have. As such, the Monarch requires the service of Her loyal and noble subjects which, by virtue of their remarkable actions, have been granted the Knighthood. Their unflinching response is to be expected and, as soon as normality is restored, those who promptly do their duty will be rewarded with Lordships, Dukedoms, and a seat as advisors to their Absolute Monarch.
The nature of their service will vary, taking into account their unique skills and experience, and the Knights will be assigned tasks individually forged for them. Nevertheless, all Knights are expected at Buckingham Palace within one week from the writing of this letter, where they will be given a suit of armor and a horse, as well as the training that befits a true servant of Her Majesty.
Their finest service will be forever remembered as a paramount moment in British history.
Godspeed and God Save The Queen.
| 2017-03-04T19:06:51 | 2017-03-04T18:41:29 | 73 | 13 |
[WP] You have the power to swap places with anyone, anywhere, at will. You've set up a business where you charge by the hour for tourists to swap places with you. Today is different, because your latest client sent an emergency request. It is a hostage.
|
I wondered about the situation for a few moments, my friend waiting patiently on the call. Then, the idea struck me.
"I'll do it!" I said, then hung up.
When she arrived, she looked relieved but also concerned. "What about you?"
"Got it under control Sarah. See you soon!"
With that, I vanished from the room. Moments later, her daughter would appear in my stead.
Part one of my plan had worked beautifully.
Meanwhile, I found myself in a cold, dark cell. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but this was perfect.
Footsteps outside, key in the latch. I had to act now.
Reality tilted momentarily, then I found myself standing outside the cell as the kidnapper's shouts of surprise and fury echoed from within.
That was the second part of my plan squared away.
All that remained now was the journey home. They say with great power comes great responsibility. While I try not to abuse my powers there are times, such as these, where walking momentarily on the dark side acts as a sort of catharsis, a "reset button" for my crushing nihilism.
The neighbors cat has been fouling up my garden beds for months. Screw you kitty, I'm coming home!
|
Phone call: Monday 18th of June 13:54
“Bound you say? With guns pointed at your head you say? Pardon me asking, but exactly how are you calling me with bound hands?”
…
“They gave you a last phone call? How kind of them. Say, is there anyone you dislike in particular?”
…
“Haha! Yes, I can imagine. It’s never easy to like the person pointing a gun at your head. Anyone else? Preferably anyone who is not in the room with you.”
…
“Okay. I understand that it must be hard to think straight at this point in time. Let me rephrase the question. Any type of crime you absolutely can’t stand?”
…
“Kidnapping you say? I should have seen that coming. All right, I’m on it. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll get you out of there in a jiffy.”
-
Tuesday 19th of June. Trending News:
1. Five resistance fighters miraculously found in previously occupied cells of state prison. No sign of previous prisoners, who were all convicted kidnappers.
2. RES claims to have captured six tourists and wishes to trade them for their leader. If their demands are not met, they’ll start executing them one by one. Officials claim to be unaware of any RES leaders in captivity.
3. Aliens appear to have waterparks.
| 2017-04-20T08:08:05 | 2017-04-20T05:25:03 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] After you die you learn why the Grim Reaper is portrayed holding a Scythe. It isn't to harvest you, it's to protect you from something on your journey.
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I heard the gentle noise of his mythical scythe slicing the rope that held my lifeless body. I brusquely fell head first into the tall refreshing grass, a soft breeze caressed my skin. "If you weren't here I wouldn't believe i'm dead." I said as I stood up and removed the dirt from my arms.
Death didn't say a word, instead he turned to me and slowly placed his skull centimeters away from mine, shadowing my whole frame. His hollow eyes gazed at me for what felt like an eternity until he finally spoke: "Life and Death aren't topics to joke about." He said, his voice was hoarse and full of pain, darkness gushed from it's mouth. "It's time, follow me." He swung his towering tremuluos scythe lacerating the flesh of time itself.
Colossal cuts leading to new planes laid in front of me. We walked in.
An ominous forest pervaded with rotten trees and lost souls greeted us. "Do they ever shut up?" I asked as I covered my ears alluding to the constant screams of excruciating pain.
"Walk, don't blink, don't talk." He said, monotonously as we made our way through the dense fog.
Dim incandescent lights coming from weird oil lamps signaled the baleful path that we were following. The constant uneasy sound of fragile bone breaking with our steps sent shivers down my dead spine.
Death suddenly stopped and turned to me. "Inside the church in front of us you a gate will open that will lead you to Heaven but beware, every lost soul in this place will try to take your place, they will play tricks and fool you. My scythe will stop the majority but not all. Good luck." He patted my back three times, his voice sounded friendly this time.
With every step I took the trees slowly faded away leaving nothing but wastelands surrounding the church, the screams got increasingly intense and many lost souls rushed against me. Death swung his scythe protecting me until I opened the oak doors of the black church.
"I will hold them, becareful inside!" He screamed. I could feel the souls stomping against the walls.
Shiny marble, towering vitrils, golden pews and mesmerizing paintings decorated the impeccable inside of this place. It was empty, or so I thought before I heard a little girl crying from inside the confessionaire. "It's everything okay?" I said softly yet my voice echoed across the place.
The little girl came running to me with her head down, I could see the tears splashing against the floor, she hugged my knee tightly. "Why did you do it?" She screamed.
"Why did I do what?" I said, startled.
She lifted her head up and our eyes met. I started to tremble incontrollably, those brown eyes, that pink dress, that curly dark hair, that voice.
"Why did you leave me and made do this?" She lift her head to the ceiling revealing a large cut across her tiny throat. "Why did you make me do this, dad? Why?" She held my leg tighter and tighter.
"I... I did it for you and your mother. You deserved a better life, it was the only way out." I stuttered, a river meandered across my face as I hugged her like the day I decided to take my own life.
Suddenly, the organ started playing and a shimmering golden door appeared in the altar.
"Goodbye daddy, one day we will meet in Heaven." She said letting my knee go.
I took a deep breath, "take my place princess, I don't deserve it."
Her eyes sparkled, "are you sure dad?"
"Yes, hurry up sweety." I said as my smile met my salty tears.
"I will see you soon daddy, I love you." She said, gently wiping off both our tears.
As she ran to the gate my non-beating heart skipped a beat, the birthmark on her left leg was missing. I was too emotionally overwhelmed to stop and think that she wasn't my daughter and now it was too late, she was about to go through the door.
Abruptly, a strong sharp wind dishevelled my hair and cut her in two halves. I turned to the oak doors and Death was standing holding his imposing scythe.
"Run stupid mortal."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed it please consider checking out my subreddit /r/chasisoxidado for more.
|
"So," I said as we drifted, "What is this?!"
I clenched the seat as hard as I can fighting the immense G force of the vehicle.
"Where are we going?!"
Grimm is not what you'd expect. Folklore and myth paints a picture of him with a robe with a scythe and a serious face. And I tell you now it's all wrong.
Nowadays he's wearing a black hoodie with olive jeans. There's something glimmering underneath his hoodie. I can see a gold coin that has an image of a bee and it was fashioned into a necklace. The other thing he's known for carrying is what I'm worried about. The scythe is nowhere to be seen.
"We... are on... hold up,"
he said as he did another hard turn,
"...the River Styx road."
Grimm looked at me saying,
"You just sit back... and relax."
"Look at the road. People usually trip out with what they see."
I look down and the road is a dark lime green color with an emerald glow. I can see images forming like a movie reel. The only way I can explain it is like a phonograph. Once my eyes looks at the road the images form. It hurts to see yet I am drawn to it.
I look at Grimm and he gestures me to continue.
What I see is almost like life flashing before my eyes yet this isn't my life. It's of some woman. It feels like I'm watching a tv show because I kind of recognize the actress. You can tell it's a big budgeted drama because of the soldiers, the fame, looks like she has 2 boys and some rich people in a mansion. And she looks happy.
I take my eyes away because I'm feeling a strange sort of pain. The only way I can describe it is a pain in my soul since I don't have a living body anymore.
"Who is this," I asked.
"Let's worry about that later. I have a schedule to follow,"
he replied,
"and I just want to make sure I have enough time to see what happens with you before I get to the next soul."
"What happens next?"
"You'll see in a moment. We just need to get past the tunnel of light."
"What tunnel?"
Just then I could see a wormhole open up although I didn't see light anywhere. That is until I passed the opening. It felt like you were going light speed in a fraction of a second.
There was light all around me. I couldn't tell if we were moving anymore. I see that the cars gone and Grimm and I are just floating.
All I can say is that this tunnel feels familiar.
"Grimm are we still in the wormhole?"
"Yes," he says. "Keep a lookout."
"What?!"
I turned to him and was astonished at what I saw.
Grimm pulled up his hoodie from his waist and with his left hand he grabbed at his spine between his rib cage and his belt. I didn't expect his hand to go through his spine however his hand did grab something.
What he pulled away was a glowing fiery object that held the same S shape as his spine. Like a ghost it phased from his spine. Grimm flipped the object to the front of him. He grabbed his gold coin, yanked it free with a grunt and placed it at the top of the object. Suddenly it was a physical object.
"This is my scythe," Grim said solemnly.
The scythe split and opened up halfway down its length and a double gold razor protruded like a switchblade. The blades stopped at its final point giving it that familiar "7" look that it has.
He looks at me saying,
"Do you know why this tunnel is familiar?"
I shook my head.
"You died because you were drunk driving in this tunnel. You and the lady you saw died."
"It was an acci..."
"Shhh.. your maliciousness doesn't matter to the demons coming to get your soul. Specifically Malebolge. I am here to make sure you see her and saint peter to get a proper judgement."
Just as he said the last part the floor opened and it felt like we were passing through worlds as if the tunnel was like an elevator to these worlds.
We stopped on the 8th floor and I can see in the distance that the demon was already waiting for us.
Grimm asks, "Are you ready?"
| 2017-06-20T16:42:43 | 2017-06-20T15:56:00 | 214 | 46 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.
|
"Look, Matty the Mad is acting strange again," I said, elbowing my friend Flint as we walked past her shack on our way home. The elderly woman was busy shoveling dirt over a hole, either unaware or unconcerned about her dirt-stained frock.
"I say, what're you up to, Matty?" he called.
She straightened and glared at us. "You boys again. Come to break my windows with stones?"
"You can't prove it was us," I shouted. "Answer Flint's question!"
"I'm covering up my dirty business," she said, going back to her work. "Unlike everyone else in this damned village who leave them out in the open."
We burst into laughter. "What a foolish madwoman you are!" Flint said, half-choked with mirth. "Only by scattering them outside will they dissolve in the rain and evaporate under the sun. Why are you storing them in the ground where they'll be there forever?"
"Leave an old lady alone," she muttered.
"What other wisdom do you have to share with us today? Last week you told Fanny to wash her mouth and brush her teeth four times a day. Her father got so angry he wanted to stomp your vegetables flat!"
I snorted, and said in a conspiratorial but audible tone, "You see, she doesn't know that our mouths, being wet all the time, are already clean!"
"Also, remember when you asked Honey to stop mixing her cave metals into her medicines? She let her dogs chase you all over town!"
Matty looked up briefly with damp eyes. "Those dogs ought to be put down. They're raving mad, and they've already bitten five people!"
Flint and I fell into silence for a moment, but then my friend said, "Anyway, you keep playing with your dirt. We're going home to have our mushrooms." He shook a leather pouch for her to see.
A look of concern came over her face. "Where did you find those?"
"Oh, in the woods, here and there," Flint said casually. "Not telling you, or you'll steal our supply. 'specially since we've never seen this variety before."
She groaned. "The last thing I want to do is eat your stupid mushrooms. You boys remember to cook them well. Sometimes they can do strange things to you."
"There she goes again," I said with a guffaw. "The wisdom of Matty! Cook your food and destroy everything natural about them! Maybe we should start smoking and salting our meats too, like she does."
Flint started to walk away, shaking his head in disgust. "She even eats them weeks later. How could she stand something that's no longer fresh?"
"Don't worry about her," I said, clapping him on the back. "She won't be ruining our dinner."
***
"Flint?" I said, coughing as I woke up. My head was spinning heavily, and thick foamy phlegm was leaking from the corner of my mouth. I fumbled about in the dark of my room, trying to regain my bearings. With every motion, my belly heaved and lurched.
"Don't feel so good," I moaned, clutching my middle. Sharp pains were beginning to accompany the aching. My bottom felt wet—likely I would soon need to look for a clear patch not used by my parents and sister in the garden. "You hear me, Flint?"
My fingers brushed against his arm, and I felt a surge of relief that he hadn't abandoned me. "Why's it so dark?" I said. "We only started eating a while ago, and it was noon. Hey, Flint, what's the matter?"
I traced my fingers up his torso, to his neck, and then his face. His flesh remained still and cold to my touch.
"Flint? Flint!" I began to shake him, but he didn't answer. Cursing the dark—my eyes were beginning to strain from the effort of widening them—I stood and ran to get help, bumping into walls even with arms outstretched.
"Father! Mother! It's Flint, I think he's dead!"
***
Flint's family came and took him home not long after, where they would leave him in the living room until he dissolved into the air they breathed. Honey took a look at my eyes and made me swallow urine from the man with the sharpest eyesight in the village, but to no avail.
I could no longer see.
As I cried myself to sleep that night, cursing mushrooms, cursing Honey, cursing everything, I remembered Matty's words earlier that day.
***
*Edit: Part 2 below!*
*Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. Do check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) if you would like to see more of my work.*
|
The cabin was about a half mile outside of town. It had been abandoned, no river or fields nearby to make it worthwhile. It had been an old trapper’s cabin but the game had gone from this area a long time ago. Josef quietly shuffled towards the front door, a small parcel hugged close to his chest.
The door opened before he had even been able to muster the courage to knock. A woman’s voice, strong and even, came through the cracked portal, “What do you want?”
All the conversation starters Josef had planned came out at once, “I need your help. I’m sorry to bother you. I know that you have helped people. My name is Josef. This is my daughter. I’ve heard you know some magic. My daughter is sick, please help—“
“I’m expecting someone, come in, but be quick.” The door opened, a small oil lamp was turned up and the dark cabin brightened noticeably. Josef stepped inside.
“Give her to me.” The woman reached forward, Josef hesitated.
He was here because he was desperate, but it was still hard to trust the old wood’s witch. She had a complicated reputation in town. Healing animals and people, predicting weather, cursing enemies. He was sure some of both the good and bad were rumors, but he had nowhere else to turn. He handed the small bundle over, “Please don’t hurt her.”
The woman frowned. She shook her head and took the baby. She felt its forehead and then took out a small tool from a bag by her side. She stuck it in the poor girls ear, the baby screamed. Josef prayed that he made the right decision, he wanted to run but was too scared he’d be turned into a frog before he got to the door.
“She has a fever. How long has she been sick?”
Josef forgot to answer for a second, he was too busy wondering what flies might taste like, “—Six days, the doctor bled her twice already—“
“Stop that! Don’t do that again, do you promise?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Josef stared at his feet, unable to watch whatever witchcraft this woman might be performing on his only child.
“She has a temperature. I need to go, I don’t have time for this.” The woman glided towards a small cabinet with a curious latch he’d never seen before, she fiddled with the symbols on it before it popped open. He saw a small orange container with a white top. She poured the contents into a small leather pouch.
“These are antibi—these are medicine. Powerful. Do not tell anyone I gave this to you. Three times a day, with her meals. Is she breast feeding?”
“Cows milk, ma’am. My wife, she died in labor.”
Josef could see the sadness in the woman’s eyes, but she moved on quickly. “Boil the milk.”
“Ma’am?”
“Boil the milk. And these pills three times a day until they are all gone. Do you understand?”
“Boiled milk and these pills, three times a day.” Josef had heard the stories, he knew she was crazy, but this was beyond his expectations.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. I shouldn’t even be doing this. I must go. You must go. Good luck.” The woman started pushing him back outside.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Josef paused at the door, he turned around deliberately, “She doesn’t have a name yet. On account of her mother—If you don’t mind, can I ask your name?” Josef thought that maybe an offering would convince the witch to have mercy on his poor daughter.
She hesitated, “Margaret.”
“It’s beautiful. Family name?” Please let me daughter live, Josef thought.
“My grandmother’s name. She said her father got it from an old hermit who saved her life when she was a—It's not important, I have to go.“
“Margaret—Maggie. I hope you’ll get to see little Maggie grow up big and strong.”
A bright light shone in through the window of the cabin. So bright, Josef thought the sun had risen in the middle of the night. The witch didn’t seem startled at all. She sighed and grabbed a small satchel she had next to her chair.
“Unfortunately that won’t be possible. I need to go back to where I came from. You can't tell anyone about what I gave you, not even your daughter once she's older. I need you to go now, quickly.” She stared into Josef’s eyes as if she had more to say, but she just nodded and shuffled towards the backdoor of the cabin.
| 2017-09-14T11:40:58 | 2017-09-14T11:14:03 | 3,641 | 114 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.
|
"I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch."
"Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much."
"She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect."
"We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?"
"She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells."
"The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?"
"We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber."
"Cursed the barber?"
"Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of
balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves."
"Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?"
"I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village."
edit: formatting.
|
"What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| 2017-09-14T12:11:29 | 2017-09-14T10:53:02 | 240 | 120 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.
|
"but the bread mold saved your grandfather Mort. And the maggots saved Earl's crushed food when everyone knew he was going to die. Sucking out the snake bite didn't save your boy Martha but any other healer would not have even tried. We lost what six of the last twenty babes born under her care? What other village can boast of so many live births. Not to mention her way with the flocks and hogs. Everyone has benefitted from her knowledge."
For a moment there I thought I had swayed them. Even the mayor his hands still holding the rope to bind her with looked both thoughtful and ashamed. Then the preacher spoke.
"Knowledge yes. Forbidden knowledge. Does the good book not say a woman shall remain silent excepting her husband's command. Even if we can attribute such luck to her, and you all mind it's God's glory that saves both flocks from blights and new born babes. No matter how much cleaning you do to barns or washing of hands. For does the book not say all good things come from the Lord. I say again she is a witch meant to lead people from the church. Do you all think I would not notice you send your children to her in secret instead of church for a proper education. As to saving lives who is she to save a man God has chosen to take. But I see you've moved these common folk with your speech so let me ask here and know before your neighbors and God who would go against God and stop the right and blessed hanging of a witch? Who would allow their children to be lead away from the teachings in the good book?"
I must confess I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut.
I wanted her to scream and fight when we arrived. Instead she spoke calmly laying out her case much as I did. The preacher tried to rouse the crowd but his angry words were not answered.
She begged at the end then laughed at us saying we were killing our children believing in a book written so long ago.
I stood in the crowd as she dropped. It wasn't a clean break and the mayor was weeping openly as he helped her to finish it.
|
"She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T15:04:14 | 2017-09-14T12:51:41 | 85 | 58 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.
|
"but the bread mold saved your grandfather Mort. And the maggots saved Earl's crushed food when everyone knew he was going to die. Sucking out the snake bite didn't save your boy Martha but any other healer would not have even tried. We lost what six of the last twenty babes born under her care? What other village can boast of so many live births. Not to mention her way with the flocks and hogs. Everyone has benefitted from her knowledge."
For a moment there I thought I had swayed them. Even the mayor his hands still holding the rope to bind her with looked both thoughtful and ashamed. Then the preacher spoke.
"Knowledge yes. Forbidden knowledge. Does the good book not say a woman shall remain silent excepting her husband's command. Even if we can attribute such luck to her, and you all mind it's God's glory that saves both flocks from blights and new born babes. No matter how much cleaning you do to barns or washing of hands. For does the book not say all good things come from the Lord. I say again she is a witch meant to lead people from the church. Do you all think I would not notice you send your children to her in secret instead of church for a proper education. As to saving lives who is she to save a man God has chosen to take. But I see you've moved these common folk with your speech so let me ask here and know before your neighbors and God who would go against God and stop the right and blessed hanging of a witch? Who would allow their children to be lead away from the teachings in the good book?"
I must confess I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut.
I wanted her to scream and fight when we arrived. Instead she spoke calmly laying out her case much as I did. The preacher tried to rouse the crowd but his angry words were not answered.
She begged at the end then laughed at us saying we were killing our children believing in a book written so long ago.
I stood in the crowd as she dropped. It wasn't a clean break and the mayor was weeping openly as he helped her to finish it.
|
"She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T15:04:14 | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 85 | 56 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.
|
"but the bread mold saved your grandfather Mort. And the maggots saved Earl's crushed food when everyone knew he was going to die. Sucking out the snake bite didn't save your boy Martha but any other healer would not have even tried. We lost what six of the last twenty babes born under her care? What other village can boast of so many live births. Not to mention her way with the flocks and hogs. Everyone has benefitted from her knowledge."
For a moment there I thought I had swayed them. Even the mayor his hands still holding the rope to bind her with looked both thoughtful and ashamed. Then the preacher spoke.
"Knowledge yes. Forbidden knowledge. Does the good book not say a woman shall remain silent excepting her husband's command. Even if we can attribute such luck to her, and you all mind it's God's glory that saves both flocks from blights and new born babes. No matter how much cleaning you do to barns or washing of hands. For does the book not say all good things come from the Lord. I say again she is a witch meant to lead people from the church. Do you all think I would not notice you send your children to her in secret instead of church for a proper education. As to saving lives who is she to save a man God has chosen to take. But I see you've moved these common folk with your speech so let me ask here and know before your neighbors and God who would go against God and stop the right and blessed hanging of a witch? Who would allow their children to be lead away from the teachings in the good book?"
I must confess I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut.
I wanted her to scream and fight when we arrived. Instead she spoke calmly laying out her case much as I did. The preacher tried to rouse the crowd but his angry words were not answered.
She begged at the end then laughed at us saying we were killing our children believing in a book written so long ago.
I stood in the crowd as she dropped. It wasn't a clean break and the mayor was weeping openly as he helped her to finish it.
|
"She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T10:52:25 | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 82 | 56 |
[WP] Gods are born when people first believe in them and die when no one follows them anymore. You're one of the last gods, on the verge of death.
|
They say that when there is no other way to explain it, then people will attribute it to an entity... a being... A god. Just as we exist as a placeholder, then we shall cease to be once that place we hold is filled.
Life has been created, the star has been harnessed, the Earth has been explored, and the weather has been controlled. Each and every subset, each and every being erased by the ones who birthed us. Until I'm the only one left.
I overlook a domed city of the human race, the city that was once a small tribe where I was birthed. A fitting place to be the center of the understanding that will kill me. My body cracks as their experiments end. My sight blurs as their conclusions are reached. My mouth smiles to the flow of emotions inside me.
The millennia of my existence flash before me. The eras where they feared me, where they accepted me, where they sought me, and where they glorified me. As I fade into the wind, My mind's curiosity can't help but ask.
"Without death, to what heights will humanity reach?"
|
Immortality is craved by almost all humans. They wouldn't feel that way after the first couple of years. We do not think ourselves, at least most of us, as better than humans. We make friends and we watch them die.
I opened the case and took my trumpet. I can feel the end, so close I can see it on the horizon. I play a scale, getting some attention from the people in the street. I start playing a lullaby I heard about three hundred years ago. Forgotten by everyone by me. There are an old lady and her grandchild which stopped to listen to me. The woman takes a few coins from her purse and gives it to the child to give to me. He comes forward, searching for a place to put the coins. There is none. I shake my head at him. He goes back to his grandmother confused. She takes him and watching me in disbelief. The pain in my chest is getting stronger. I see some of the listeners' eyes are getting sobby. Those tears are not for me, but for the lost song trying to fight its way back into the world.
I finished the song. Some people are looking at me, waiting for me to continue. I sit down on the ground and then, everything faded to black.
| 2017-11-09T01:01:38 | 2017-11-09T00:31:38 | 59 | 14 |
[WP] You are a member of a secret civilization of children where anyone who reaches 21 is executed. It's your 21st birthday.
|
It's strange knowing that you're about to die. My older brother told me how calming it was, how it allowed him to see things from a perspective he wasn't able to before. He was excited to go, even proud of what his sacrifice would mean for the rest of their people.
That was ten years ago, and now, on my day of reckoning, I realized how different this experience would be for me. I never believed the Arch-Priest during all those classes when he taught us about the Gods.
*"There are 21 Gods, children; together, they bring balance to the world we live in and grace us with what we need to exist. But, we must show them our gratitude."*
The idea was that, by sacrificing us on our 21st birthdays, we would be honoring each God equally. They were all about "balance in the universe," right? So one year for every God, nothing more, nothing less. And what would happen if we didn't sacrifice our people?
*"The Gods will let loose the forces in our world that they keep at bay. Thunderous storms will rain down from the sky and crush everything in their way. Fire will erupt out of the ground and burn everything. The earth beneath our feet will crack and crumble, the air above us will no longer be a blessing."*
**What a load of horseshit.**
I wasn't going to let it happen to me. I would kill the Arch-Priest before he killed me. My people would be free from his barbaric tyranny. The man's existence contradicted what he preached; he was an **old** man. I would not burn on the pyre today. I patted the blade in my pocket to reassure myself it was there. *It was time.*
An hour later, I was standing on a hill overlooking the city. I had never thought about life *past* 21 until today; I clasped my blood stained hands together as I looked out on the horizon. *It was time to live.*
*Far in the distance, I could hear a storm brewing, and the ground beneath my feet began to shake...*
|
"Oh god. I can't breathe. I'm so ready."
Snickers roll across the room.
"Dude, you're almost there! Enjoy the last couple of hours you have! CHUG CHUG CHUG!"
That stupid punk 17 year old has no idea what's coming. I mean, I didn't know what was coming when I was 17. Why would you worry about the distant future when you were a GOD?
I scrolled through some of my highlights. Everyone says you get nostalgic at the end. When I was 17, I won my first League of Legends championship and my second Clash Royale championship. I had every sponsor coming to me. This was when I was good-looking and in shape. We knew that image was important. Years 14 to 19 were our prime years, the time when all of our years of training was to pay off in riches and fame. We could strafe and micro-manage in team fights before we could run. All of our education was based on practical skills to become champions. Well, not all of it was practical. We were always allotted time to free-surf and peruse various hobbies so we could enjoy interaction with other players. If you were the best at your game, good looking, AND funny. Well, you had it all.
I still remember the day I turned 20. I turned in my gaming set-up so they could re-purpose it for the next generation. And they gave me my black card in return. A card for unlimited purchases on any food or beverage or toy or game my heart could desire. Boy, did I go hard.
Now, at a monstrous size for my frame, I had trouble breathing let alone moving. But these 17 and 18 year-old's still wanted to see me chug until my final breath. Punks. I was a freaking legend. I grabbed the mug handed to me and chugged.
Power overwhelming.
God-like!
He's on fire!
Fatality.
Every legend drinks and eats his last. But my highlights. They will live on forever.
"Good Lord, just kill me now! I'm so damn ready!"
Laughter filled the room like a chorus.
| 2017-12-09T19:11:53 | 2017-12-09T18:38:14 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] You are the king, after your daughter was kidnapped by a dragon you offered the standard reward to whoever rescued her. You weren't expecting a different dragon to rescue her.
Wow! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you all so much for all your stories. I haven't commented on all of them but they are all fantastic!
|
I was bouncing with excitement in my throne. Not only had my daughter been rescued from the dragon, but she also was rescued by one of her brave friends the same age as her! This would be a marriage that would go along very well.
One of my servants ran up to me. “Sir Grol, your daughter is back! And with her um.....savior...”
“Wonderful! Bring them both in! I want to meet this young stranger.” The servant saluted, and walked out of the room. I wondered who this brave lad would be. At such a young age, slaying a dragon? Perhaps the son of a knight. Or a wizard? Whatever it was, I was sure they’re very good.
Princess Diana walked into the room, still in her silver dress she was wearing a week ago. “Father!” She ran up to him, and hopped in my arms. I was overcome with joy, and hugged her tightly.
“Oh my daughter, I’m so glad you’re safe!”
“I’m perfectly fine Father! My friend saved me, and I’m so happy!”
“I’ve heard the wonderful news! Now where is he? I MUST meet him!”
Diana nodded, and ran back out of the room. She grabbed someone by the hand, and walked in with him. I sat up, and looked in wonder at the boy she was bringing in and...
Why it was just another dragon! A short one, the size of Diana. He was green, slightly chubby, with wings and a long head. He seemed to be a little shy, I could tell somehow. My smile dropped, and he slumped back into his chair.
The dragon eyed me, and bowed. “Hi your majesty. Sorry about keeping you waiting.”
I was confused. “Um...It’s no trouble. Diana, this is the boy who saved you?”
“He sure is! He’s amazing!” Diana hugged the dragon, and he blushed deeply.
“A young dragon.....slayed another dragon?......”
The dragon put his hands up to cut me off. “Oh no no no no no. That’s not what happened really. It’s a bit of a long story.”
“Well tell me then!”
The dragon cleared his throat, and coughed a bit. “Well, the dragon that you thought had ‘kidnapped’ her, was actually my mom. We were inviting Diana over to our mountain home for a play date!”
A....play date? I didn’t understand at all.
“We were playing at my place for a while, when Dad took us on a trip to the woods. We were walking around, and then we got separated. We got lost for a few days.
“The Woods were really scary father, but Owen found food!”
“We were lost for a few days, but Dad found us later, and flew us home. Then we ran into some issues at home, and here we are.” He was silent for a bit, so that was probably the end of the story.
Now it’s time for my problems with this. “I....I don’t understand. The townsfolk said they saw her being carried off by a dragon and screaming!”
Diana interjected, “That’s because it was really scary way up high! I was grabbing Owen the entire time.” Owen(the dragon I assumed) scratched the back of his head and chuckled.
“But if it was just a play date, why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I told Ms. Agatha. She said she was going to tell you!”
Oh....I sent her on vacation the same day. “But you said he ‘saved you.’ What did you mean by that?”
“Oh, oh yeah! While we were in the forest, we got stuck in a cave, surrounded by wolves! Owen scared them away with his fire, and flew us out!”
This was making even less sense every second.
“Ooh, and and! He saved me from a giant group of evil knights! When we got back, there were a lot of knights there! They were shouting and grabbing and pulling me, and Owen pulled me out of there, and saved me again! And then Mr. Dragon ate all of them! It was just the best week ever!”
This was twisting my entire mind. I thought my daughter had been tortured by an evil fire-breathing menace, when she was actually playing in the woods with a dragon boy. “W-Well.....As is tradition, saving the princess allows the boy to marry the princess. And you technically did save her, so therefore, you will marry the princess.”
Owen blushed again, while Diana was bouncing. “Yay!” She hugged him, and his entire face turned red.
“But given that both of you are seven, that might be a while.”
“Oh that’s ok! We can plan the perfect wedding in the mean time! Come on!” She dragged him out of the room.
Well, I’m gonna have to get used to a dragon son-in-law. This is gonna be interesting.
_____________
Feedback is appreciated! I hope you like my take on it.
Also if you guys want, I’ll do a part 2 with the king meeting the dragon parents.
|
I trembled with rage as I stood in the courtyard. It was bad enough that I was expected to meet this creature; to have to meet it outside of the throne room broke all formality. A promise is a promise, and I intended to keep my word. I keep my word to this day. Yet, late at night, I do wonder if I did the right thing.
My daughter had been kidnapped by a dragon. When this happens to a princess, her father offers a “great reward” to the rescuer. What the reward is varies. Traditionally, we offer jewels, gold, a lordship, or the girl. In my case, my daughter was twenty years old. I wanted her to be married before she became barren. I was losing hope. Every time I demanded that she marry, she repulsed her suitor. I had begged the last one to reconsider, but he was having none of it and none of her. That was her last available cousin. I had to do something.
This is why I had looked favorably on the whole affair: the kidnapping seemed to come at a fortunate time. Dragon-slaying was how my paternal grandparents met. If she wouldn’t have a prince, count, duke, baron, or anyone with a high rank, then a lowly but brave knight would do. I needed to assure continuance of the royal line. Unfortunately, I had only one very stubborn daughter, and talks about duty had failed. A muscled lad risking life and limb was good enough for her great-grandmother, and might be just the trick I needed. If a dragon needed to serve as my kingdom’s matchmaker once more, than so be it.
What I had not expected was this gigantic, scaled creature in front of me. It lowered down its mighty head, and looked at me with its gigantic, yellow eye. The long, black slit of a pupil dilated and contracted as it considered me. My daughter walked over merrily and embraced me.
“Hi, daddy,” She beamed a smile up at me, and then turned to look up at the giant yellow eye, “Daddy, this is, Ͷoǫɒɿb, my rescuer.”
“I see that, yes,” I regally maintained my composure, “But what does he want?”
“What you promised, Daddy.”
I looked up at his awe-inspiring, reptilian form, and then down at my smiling, petite daughter.
“Impossible.”
I looked at her tear-filled eyes, and then back up at the red-scaled monstrosity. I kept looking up and down; it seemed utterly inconceivable. I began to wish that I hadn’t sequestered her in the castle for so much of her life. Perhaps, I thought, I should have let her be around young men more often.
“Darling—”
“I love him!”
“I know that you *feel* that you love him, but—”
*But you did promise,* A voice said.
It was not spoken. It had somehow slithered into my mind. I looked around for the source of the voice. Unable to see it, I looked at the dragon. It looked placidly back.
*I can appreciate that your intentions were noble,* It continued, *But I expect you to follow through on them.*
“I know that I promised,” I said aloud, not knowing how else to respond to the creature, “But I’m the king, and she is my daughter! I’m not having my only child marry a m—what you are.”
*Promises mean everything among my kind,* The pupil widened as the massive eyelid narrowed, *Tell me, when a lie is told, then what do you think saying ‘sorry’ means to a dragon?*
“I wouldn’t know,” I said stiffly, “But I do apologize for the mis—”
*The answer is ‘not much.’ I have no interest in other, possible rewards, treasury or trinkets. Lies hurt, my dear, human king. Letting go is hard, I know. But let me assure you that in this case, holding on will be much harder. I fulfilled my side of your bargain. A good character is shown when one keeps a promise. Now, my king, tell me, what sort of character are you?*
I don’t know why I did what I did next. It happened in a blur. I worry, at times, that his mental speech had an affect on me. I acquiesced then and there. The wedding was held shortly afterward. I handed over the throne shortly afterward. It’s five years later, and my daughter still seems happy. She’s had four children since, and I try not to consider the physics involved in that. The grandchildren look a little frightening, but they are good kids on the whole. They are adorable, once you get used to them, and I can never seem to tell them no.
Still, sometimes, late at night, I cannot sleep. When this happens, I stroll through the heraldry room. I look upon the painted faces of generations gone by, and at the intricate, ancient tapestries. When I approach the latest family portrait, then I can’t help but wonder what my ancestors would say, and I feel ashamed. No one will want to intermarry with us now; the purity of the family line has been forever tainted.
| 2018-02-23T14:08:39 | 2018-02-23T10:22:05 | 54 | 29 |
[WP] "So let me get this straight" The former UFC fighter looked at the doctor in the eye. "You want to put me in a medically induced coma so my ghost can beat the shit out of the ghost that's haunting the psych ward of the hospital? "Uhh... If you want to put it like that, sure."
Who knows, maybe the fighter couldn't afford the exorbitant doctor's bills, so he has to make do with alternative methods of payment.
|
"Hit it doc, I'm ready."
The doctor jabbed the syringe into my arm nervously. "If you win you'll find your reward underneath your bed. Good luck. "
"Sweet. I assure you doc there will be no luck involved. Only-" darkness flooded my mind. The last thing I saw, was the doc scampering out of the room.
I opened my eyes.
"What the hell?"
I squinted as I looked at a lab room drained of its color with a grain filter constantly flickering over my vision. I hopped off the bed and literally floated for a moment.
"Whoa," I said, then began hopping side to side, throwing a few quick jabs. I was quickly getting use to my new body.
Suddenly, I heard an unearthly guttural screech from the corridor to the psyche ward. It sent a chill down my spine.
"Shit. What the hell did I get my self into..."
I took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. "Let's get this over with."
I walked down the dark corridor until I was met with a reinforced steel door. I reached for the handle of the door but my hand simply slipped through.
"Oh."
*I'm such an idiot,* I thought. I walked through the door into the lobby of the psyche ward. The lights flickered eerily as I continued deeper into the psyche ward. There were more doors and corridors everywhere. I looked around me, wondering where the screech had come from when suddenly I heard something behind me.
I twisted around quickly.
"Papa?" a little girl with dark hair over her face stood alone in the dimly lit room.
"What? I'm not your-" I held my breath. She had a gaping hole the size of my fist where her chest was. "You're the ghost?"
The little girl responded by opening her mouth wide. I stared into the pool of darkness within her mouth and saw something move. Then she screamed that dreadful screech.
"Hey. Hey! Shut the fuck up!" I shouted.
To my surprise she stopped. Then she started walking towards me. No, with each step she flickered, vanishing and then reappearing closer.
I frowned. "Neat trick."
I wondered if I could do the same.
I started walking around the room, attempting to reproduce the same flickering effect but only managed to stumble around awkwardly.
"What the fuck are you doing?" the little girl asked rudely.
"Uhh..." I scratched my head, slightly embarrassed. "I was just trying to do the *flicker.* you know?"
"That's not how you do it dummy."
She started pacing around me, flickering with every step.
"Oh so that's how you do it," I nodded slowly as if I understood.
The little girl smiled at me, flashing me with the writhing abyss that dwelled within her mouth. "Wanna see what else I can do?"
Without even thinking I replied. "Sure."
She put her hand through the hole in her chest, turned around and started waving at me.
I shivered coldly.
She twisted her head around to look at me.
I began laughing hysterically. "Wow! T-that's so cool."
"Wanna see what else I can do?!" she said ecstatically, almost bouncing up and down.
Before I could say no, she opened her mouth wide again, revealing the writhing pool of darkness. Black tendrils began to slither out of her mouth towards me.
I trembled. My knees felt weak.
*Holy shit. I need to get out of here.*
This was not what I signed up for. If my knees weren't feeling so weak right now, I would have been out the door ages ago. But then I remembered that I couldn't physically leave.
I began laughing even more hysterically. "Hahaha, this is cool too but-"
She stopped, her tendrils froze in mid motion, inches away from my face. "But?! But what?!" she demanded.
"Its not cool enough," I said with a bored expression. "I mean... there must be something cooler than this right?" I asked then demanded. "Show me something even cooler."
I felt sweat roll down my back as I prayed for the first time in my life, that this was it. That there wouldn't be anymore.
"Okay!" she replied sweetly.
*Fuck.*
-----
/r/Em_pathy
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/82f3xw/ufc_fighter_turned_exorcist_part_2/)
|
Johnny looked into his doctor's eyes and hoped that the kind doctor was joking. But Dr Peter just sat there, his intense eyes fixed upon Johnny. It made Johnny shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"Look, I am really glad that the hospital chose to help me, and I am more than happy to beat the shit out of whoever that is living for you, but this is just a joke," Johnny stood up and headed for the door.
"So, her name is Sally, right?"
The name made Johnny froze in his steps. He turned to see the doctor flipping through a stack of files. A file that he was too familiar with. The file of his daughter.
“Yes.” Johnny felt his muscles tensing.
Dr Peter rose to his feet and walked slowly towards Johnny. His eyes stayed fixed on the file, flipping one page by one page.
“Says here that her disease is incurable, that she was given less than a year to live.”
Johnny stood there, his fists clenched. If he wanted, he could just knock the doctor down right there and then, and the doctor would not even know what hit him. Instead, Johnny just shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
“But ever since coming to our hospital, she has been showing signs of progress. And there-“
“-seems to be no scientific explanation for it.” Johnny completed the doctor’s sentence. It was a sentence that he heard too many times. He pictured Sally in his mind, just six months ago. Weak and frail, barely able to breathe. None of the doctors knew what was wrong with her. She went through all the tests, scans and every single thing the doctors could think of, but nothing helped.
All the doctors knew were that her organs were rapidly regressing, to the point that if nothing changed, her body would simply cease functioning. She was just five years old, too young to die. Johnny tried everything, exhausting his savings in the process, but nothing changed. His little angel only got worse. It pained Johnny to see the colour drained from her face, her smile replaced with sunken cheeks.
It seemed all lost to Johnny, until a friend recommended the Hospital of the Mindful Healing (HMH). An unconventional choice, as he friend put it. HMH was a private psychiatry-based hospital that claims to be able to heal diseases not explained by science. Even though he thought that the entire idea was bullshit, HMH was his final resort. Johnny was desperate. It was his final gamble.
Being almost penniless by then, having used up almost all his money to cure Sally, Johnny begged the hospital to take in Sally. He promised to do anything for them, even to the extent of using his own life as a collateral.
“I will do anything,” He pleaded at Dr Peter’s feet. The hospital eventually agreed, and six months later, Sally was like any five-year-old child. Loud, obnoxious but most importantly, alive. Johnny thought that the hospital would want to use his name to promote their brand, and he was more than willing to do it. After all, a three-time international UFC champion's name has got to carry some weight.
He was expecting Dr Peter to request that when he summoned into the doctor’s office. The last thing he imagined was to be asked to fight a ghost. It felt like a sick joke, what the hospital asked.
“Do you want to know why we are able to cure your daughter, Mr Davis?” Dr Peter asked.
Johnny shook his head.
“Well, her problem was not of a scientific one, but rather…” Dr Peter scratched his chin, trying to find the correct word. “Something that is out of this world."
"Our treatment methods are based on what people call the supernatural, if I am allowed to use that word.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow at the doctor. Dr Peter looked no different from all the other doctors he had visited, with his white robe and stethoscope hanging around his neck, certainly not someone Johnny expect to be associated with all the unknown. “And the ghost has something to do with it?”
“Yes,” Dr Peter answered. “The reason why we agreed to treat your daughter, Sally, was because we knew we would need your assistance with this issue that we’re having.”
Dr Peter placed Sally’s file on his desk and took out another file. A big red stamp ran across the file’s cover. He then passed it to Johnny. “This is not something you can choose, Mr Davis. We need your help for this case.”
Johnny’s hand reluctantly reached for the file. He thought of Sally, waiting for him at home, and sighed. “Fine, I will do it.”
---------
*Made some edits to make the story flow better. I write at /r/dori_tales*
| 2018-03-06T00:18:38 | 2018-03-05T23:38:54 | 1,160 | 33 |
[WP] You are a human who’s been adopted by a dragon couple. The mother is incredibly enthusiastic about teaching you stuff, so every week she tries to teach you to breathe fire and fly. It gets weird one day when you actually breathe fire.
|
"Here's the thing, dear, and if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! You have to give up on those mushy, constraining human ideas. You see, humans are... you're not paying attention, are you?"
She was right. I wasn't.
"Sorry, mom," I muttered, and then went right back to staring at the human village in the distance.
"Dearie," she said, lifting me gently with one of her leathery dragon wings and moving me around to face her. "I know you have it in you. Every human does. Only they gave it up a long, long time ago. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I should be teaching you. Us dragons nearly went extinct because of it. It was only by convincing the human leaders to bury the knowledge that we survived. Hmm, maybe this isn't such a good idea."
I groaned. "You always say that, mom."
"Well it's true! Part of dragon history if you'd pay attention in class."
"I do," I said, but my head turned to look at the village.
"My little human child," she tutted. "I suppose it makes sense you'd want to be with your own. I just couldn't leave you abandoned, you know? All alone out in the woods..."
She trailed off and I could hear the hurt in her voice. I was an orphan. If she hadn't pulled me out of the woods, I don't know if I'd have survived. Why had they left me in the woods? That's what I didn't understand. They'd always been kind to me before then. But my parents died and then... that was it.
I shook my head and looked at mother. Her large, yellow eyes gleamed at me. Her charcoal skin glistened with the shine of the sun.
"Do you want to try?" she said. "I know you have it in you. All humans do."
I took a breath. "Alright, I'll try."
"Very well now, little one. Remember-"
"You have to remember the fire within," I said, repeating what I'd heard so many times before.
"That's right, little one. Those things you humans call emotions hold unseen powers. You have to harness them. Anger: Fire. Excitement: Flight."
"Sadness," I said, and looked away, down at the village. "Sadness..." I tried to remember what followed and couldn't think of it. Tears welled in my eyes.
Mother tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned to look at her.
"Sadness," she said gently. "Sadness: Strength."
"But how can being sad make me strong? I only ever feel weak."
"Do tears shed weakly, my dear?" she said. "Do you shake in sorrow, weakly?"
"No," I said. "You shake with strength."
"Good," she said, and smiled, baring her fierce row of teeth. "Now show me, little one. Harness it. Show me what lies within you, right now."
*What lies within me right now?* The words bounced around inside my head. Deep within me, I could feel a scream building. I looked at the village, at the place I had called home. At the people who had tossed me away like nothing. Tears formed in my eyes. I squeezed my hands into fists and opened my mouth to scream.
Instead, fire. A roar. Guttural, primal.
It echoed off into the distance.
I could hardly believe it was I who had uttered it.
"Now you see, little one," said mother. She wrapped me up in her wings and hugged me close. "Now you see the power you hold."
On the inside, I seethed. All I could see in my eyes was an image of the village, up in flames.
|
The child awoke with a grunt, holding his head. Where… where was he? He looked around, panic starting to well up within him. Where were his parents? He got up with a whimper, sniffling as he looked around again. He was in a dark cave, dull brown stalagmites lazily stretching for a ceiling he couldn’t see. There was a dim light coming from the cave's mouth; he could see scorch marks from some powerful fire. He swallowed nervously, remembering the various tales about dragons he had heard. How they could breathe flames that would burn a man to the bone, how their very shadows were supposed to cause acres of death as they flew over their territories. He could almost hear their rumbling roars already… he stopped, holding his breath. He actually could hear their roars. They were getting closer! He looked around for somewhere to hide and quickly chose a particularly large stalagmite. He curled up behind it, hugging his knees and trying to keep his panic quiet. This proved difficult when the ground suddenly tumbled as something big touched down just outside of the cave. He couldn’t help but whimper, screwing his eyes shut and containing his panic as best he could. The ground continued to shake in rhythmic pulses, pounding and jittering as the dragon entered its lair. It looked around, sniffing the air, and emitted a curious grumble. The child didn’t dare to peep, didn’t dare to cry, didn’t even dare to breathe. He had to keep still, to keep silent. He had to… his thoughts were interrupted by something very large and very wet scraping up his body. This shook him out of it and he dared to open his eyes. The dragon was looking right at him! He yelped and scrabbled back, quickly thumping against the walls. The dragon didn’t move, simply staring at him. It took him a moment to realise the dragon was carrying something. He slowed for a moment, his frantic back-pedalling slowing to a crawl, as he followed the dragon's terrible maw down to the snout. Below nostrils that emitted gentle floating embers dangled the charred carcass of a deer. He couldn’t help but sniff the air. That smelt good… the dragon dropped it onto the ground with a thump and pushed it towards him, grumbling quietly the whole time. He couldn’t believe what was going on. Was the dragon… trying to feed him? He looked at the meat, then up to the dragon again. He pointed to it, then to himself and tilted his head. The dragon simply nudged the meat again. It was trying to feed him!
———
Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed. Years passed. The child grew into a young adult, the training of the dragon and the harshness of the mountainous terrain they called home honing his body to raw strength. Though the dragon would teach him things every day, one day in a week was dedicated to trying the impossible. The dragon would roar and breathe fire, coating the land before him in ashes and soot. He would roar in kind, and while he felt the power of the dragon in his roar he couldn’t emit as much as a single ember. This particular session was during a rainstorm, a downpour that hammered against the smooth rock beneath. Once more, the mother drew back her head and roared her defiance of fate, the familiar tongues of flame lashing out and baking the sky. He closed his eyes and focused himself, let the sensation of his guardian's fire fill his very being. He opened his eyes again, and knew. This would be it. Summoning all his energy, he roared once more, louder than he had before. The jet of fire that he summoned forth was tiny, barely breaking a metre in length, but he knew it would burn with as much intensity as that of his guardian. The dragon simply watched, proud.
| 2018-07-15T11:54:53 | 2018-07-15T09:32:25 | 87 | 11 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family.
|
All 51 brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We now have a weekly schedule, everyone takes their week each year being dead. Since the only cost is a life, seems silly not to just work this rotation. Now we are all immortal, like everyone else that found the glitch in the system.
|
I took a long breath, tentatively laying my fingers on the knob. I pushed until I heard it unlatch. A few eager morning rays pierced the crack between the door and the frame, and after what felt like an eternity, I found myself eye to eye with the boy's family — his weeping mother, somber father, and bitter grandparents.
"I've changed my mind."
\*WHONK!\*
| 2018-09-16T18:33:54 | 2018-09-16T18:01:16 | 107 | 23 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family.
|
How do you feel son?
Hungry.... can I have pizza mommy?
Where’s spot? I miss him
“I would give anything to trade places , im so sorry.”
I said it and I meant it. But it meant nothing.
They walked away broken , changed and full of hate. I did this to them. I took their son. And that was that .
I was sober when I hit him so I faced no criminal charges. Although I often wish I had. I deserved to pay for their suffering , i deserved something.
Three months later they were at my door. They looked hopeful. I was a combination of scared and confused.
We found a way, they said. We found a man who can bring him back. We’ll gladly pay what he asks but he needs a host.remember when you said you’d trade places if you could?
The man they found was dressed in a dark robe as he chanted over me in my living room. I didn’t understand what he was saying it sounded like gibberish. I was scared beyond words. I was ready for what was about to happen but scared non the less. He ask the family to step outside he need privacy for the spell to work. They obliged.
The man pulls a small bottle from under his robe and ask me to drink. I do. After a few moments I become numb. After a few more I’m completely paralyzed. He leans in , he whispers in my ear
What I gave you will wear of in about an hour. At that point you have two choices , you could tell them I’m a scam artist and break their hearts again . I don’t care by that time I’ll be long gone. Or .... your favorite food is pizza. Your dogs name is spot . You’re five , they can’t quiz you on much
|
"...yeah. I'll do it. And again, I'm so sorry." I said slowly.
"Are you sure? We expected an argument. I know this is difficult for you, and we're...just not sure what to do."
"The fault is mine...and besides...uhh. I was planning on doing this anyway."
"Wait. What did you say?"
"I was planning on ending it. Long before I hit your son."
She paused. I think she wasn't sure if I was joking or serious. Mr. Strzowski let out a small, very nervous laugh.
"Mr. Brown..."
"Rob."
"Rob...I don't know what to say. Of course, we want Sam back, but we're not murderers." She paced in front of my couch. I was much calmer than I probably should have been, but all I felt was resignation and relief.
"You're not murderers. I am. I took your son through my own carelessness. I have a chance to give him back. And besides, this way my own death won't be selfish."
"But what about your family?"
"None."
"Friends?"
"None."
"Rob..." she started and looked at her husband for some words that she couldn't find, "I didn't realize what this all meant. I, we, were just so hopeful when we heard the possibility."
"I understand."
"We're going to have to talk about this," her husband finally chimed in.
She silently nodded in agreement, and grabbed her coat. Mr. Strzowski put his hand on her back and they shuffled out my front door.
As I closed the door behind them and watched them walk to their car through my front window I whispered to myself.
"I'm going to have to be a lot more careful now."
The stakes on my 'hobby' are now much higher, but risk just adds excitement, right?
| 2018-09-16T20:33:29 | 2018-09-16T19:01:41 | 64 | 20 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family.
|
"No."
I left them speechless on my front porch as I closed the door on their faces.
I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There were two ice cold beers waiting for me in there.
I brought them both into the living room and dropped my ass down on the couch.
Death's a bitch I thought, popping open the first bottle.
But being alive is great.
|
I took a long breath, tentatively laying my fingers on the knob. I pushed until I heard it unlatch. A few eager morning rays pierced the crack between the door and the frame, and after what felt like an eternity, I found myself eye to eye with the boy's family — his weeping mother, somber father, and bitter grandparents.
"I've changed my mind."
\*WHONK!\*
| 2018-09-16T19:59:36 | 2018-09-16T18:01:16 | 62 | 23 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing
|
The setting for the battle was a bleak one: a playground, cold and abandoned. Save for two warriors, not a soul was visible in the area.
One of these warriors was truly a fearsome creature, by looks. Abraham was formerly a well-mannered man of little consequence, but upon discovering his new god and devoting himself to them, he gained immeasurable power. Now, he stood atop the wood chips of the playground, a 10 foot tall behemoth with a dog's head, four arms tipped with claws, flesh of living stone. He wore armor composed of brilliant light, and emitted an aura of divine judgment, not to speak of the dozens of magics that held no visible sign.
This was his constant state, now. Abraham had studied well the ancient texts, and had been rewarded for his efforts. Abraham had grown used to the stares and judgmental whispers. He cared not, for he was a divine protector now, burdened with a responsibility heavier than anything he had known before.
Standing across from him was a child, no more than 7 years old. Quite a mismatched sight, but the child regarded Abraham not with fear, but with annoyance.
"So, our eternal struggle continues." Abraham's voice rang out in layered tones as he approached the child.
"Only because you're so dumb!" The child took an aggressive pose, full of openings. Abraham noticed them, but the look of confidence on the boy's face kept him at bay.
"You know I must bring you in, Dark Lord. Let us begin."
With that, Abraham rushed towards the child, claws at the ready. The child threw a lazy punch, yet it pierced Abraham's defenses, knocking him to the ground. He put his arms under him and slowly lifted himself up, looking pained. "I see your powers are as strong as ever."
The child grinned, looking triumphant. "I'm the strongest in the land, duh!"
Abraham looked up a the child with a pitiable face. "Will you spare me, dark one?"
The child looked at him for a moment, seeming to think hard. "I will. But know that I'm the boss, okay? I can make your powers go away any time I want!" The child snapped his fingers, and Abraham was instantly a man again, completely average in every way.
Abraham let out a defeated sigh, rising to a knee. "Then, how may I serve you, mightiest warrior?"
The child considered it. "Ice cream!"
Abraham laughed, standing up. "Okay, but only if your mom is fine with it."
The two locked hands and departed. Abraham sighed to himself as they walked; it would take two days to put all of his spells back in place, but dismissing them was a small cost to see his girlfriend's son smile.
----
First time writing in years, I know the formatting is wrong but bear with me.
|
*This was...a mistake.*
That was all Carry could think of as she clutched her Nimbus 2000 in one hand and a twelve inch hawthorn, dragon heart string wand in the other. She, loved Harry Potter, so to her, this was magic, and her rapid wand waving won her many duels, especially against Call of Cthullu fans, but she had never encountered anyone who was a fan of Overlord.
Well. To be entirely honest Collin was a man that loved his Dungeons and Dragons, and his Overlord, but he preferred the latter. He was embossed with an enormous pool of mana, and...it really was no contest. His last bout had ended with him dropping a meteor on his last opponent, and hers had ended with a full body paralysis.
"Three! Two! One! Start!"
*"Sectum Sem-"*
The world stopped turning. Time did not slow, it simply ceased its flow, and Collin walked towards his opponent. The championship round, and well, he had no qualms with a bit of overkill. As she stood frozen, words sealed in her lips, the announcers signal fired, the crowds paused mid cheer, he lifted his face, and leaned in towards her ear, and whispered one word. Something primal, something that warped the very soul of magic itself to generate a singular effect.
***Kill.***
The word spoken was generated by magic itself, and it passed his own lips in a language only those that traded their minds to the great old ones could understand. She could not hear the word as time was stopped. The effect was delayed to occur as soon as time began its march once more, and he held out his hands as though to embrace her.
*"-p...ra..."*
The magic could not launch from her wand, as it fell instantly from her grasp along with her broom. There was no cause of death. None detectable at least, she simply ceased to live, and her tools fell from nerveless fingers, and he caught her as she collapsed. Gently laying her, her eyes still wide, but glassy, on the ground. The fight was over before it could begin. A scene pulled straight from his very favorite series of books and games. Was it fair? No. Was it particularly original? He supposed not, but it was *effective*.
"Uh...ladies and gentlemen...the...the winner is the second challenger...someone send for the...clerics? We have a winner! A winner everyone!"
There were cheers. Confused, even afraid, as the man vanished, to give his guild the coin to continue slaying dragons and hunting down dungeons. Satisfied, as he had pulled off one of his most favorite scenes.
Edit: A word
Edit 2: For those with their interest piqued about the story beat the character follows or the magic system (the two are nearly identical), check out DnD or Overlord (Light Novels are my preferred, though there are other sources!)
| 2018-10-16T00:05:09 | 2018-10-15T22:55:54 | 48 | 14 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing
|
The cultist, wearing a trench coat and smoking a cigar, with a Colt pistol holstered in his pocket, raised his hands, chanting some indecipherable phrases, as a creature from beyond the comprehendible portions of reality dragged itself into our dimension. The conditions were right, the sacrifices were made, and the world would be over as soon as the Great Chained God was summoned.
Right as the casting was about to finish, however, a teenager wearing glasses, a t-shirt featuring a hooded man with glowing blue eyes, and some athletic shorts slammed a card down onto the folding table he carried around for just such an occasion, putting another card face-up next to his deck and wincing as a small cut opened up on his torso.
“I cast Force of Will, targeting your summoning spell. It’s countered.”
The Eldritch horror screamed with the force of a trillion upset toddlers as it returned to its own twisted home. The cultist pulled out his pistol, preparing to shoot the man who’d just ruined his plans, but he just sat there and smiled as the gun couldn’t seem to point in the right direction.
“Leyline of Sanctity. If I start with it in my opening hand, I can put it down straight away- which I did, so you can’t target me because I’m hexproof. Anyway, it’s your turn. On your draw step, you don’t seem to have a library to draw from, so I guess you lose this game?”
The cultist gasped for air as his life faded, confused and terrified that this child could have defeated him so easily, after months of planning, reading those damnable tomes and giving up his own mind just to bring this world to an end, and a new world in, with him at the head...
As the trench coat wearing man slumped to the floor, bleeding out of his ears and eyes, the teenager stood up annoyedly,
“This match was supposed to be best two out of three! Why does this keep happening every time I win game 1?”
|
Streaks of light paint the night sky as a girl sings her heart out. The intense melody of “Sayonara no Tsubasa” fills up the surrounding along with explosions from the battle between the Unicorn Gundam and the girl’s Boyfriend’s YF-29 Durandal.
The Unicorn Gundam in Destroy mode fires it’s beam magnum along with its 3 shield funnels firing their dual Gatling guns at the Durandal. The Durandal dodged the shots while utilising the different forms it has. Then in Battroid mode fires it’s heavy beam gun and beam cannons along with a barrage of missile at the Unicorn in which it uses its shield funnels to form a triple shield while using a Newtype enhanced I-Field to block the beams and using its head Vulcan to intercept the missiles.
“I’ve had enough of this!” both Pilots exclaimed.
The Unicorn’s Psychoframe then changes from Blood Red to Aurora Green. “Let’s do this! UNICORN!” with a shout the Unicorn emits a bright light, which is the Psyco-Field when a Newtype resonates with a Mobile Suit using a Psycoframe.
The Durandal speeds towards the Unicorn just as the girl reaches the chorus, “Sono tsubasa wa BARUKYURIA!” Then the Durandal emits a streak of yellow light which connects to the singing girl, a clear sign of a Fold Resonance, which happens when Fold Waves emitted from singing resonates with the Fold Quartz System of the Durandal.
Thanks to the power up from such phenomenons, the battle becomes even more fierce and the dark night sky is painted with various colours, from the red and blue beam blasts to the green and yellow effects from each phenomenon.
With one final push, both Unicorn and Durandal speeds towards each other, with the clear intent to finishing the fight with one final move. With the Unicorn enlarging it’s beam tonfa and the Durandal in Fighter mode charging it’s beam gun boosted by the Fold Waves emitted by the girl, both mechas fly toward each other at high speed.
| 2018-10-15T23:09:43 | 2018-10-15T22:23:51 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers.
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After three hundred years of being underwater, I came to realize how astonishingly mad I had become. I have eaten at grand banquet tables with lobsters, swam for treasure with dolphins, and bathed with beautiful mermaids. While lost in such a reverie, and only when the pain became too overbearing to ignore, did I notice that I was being eaten.
I wondered at the beauty of this creature as it consumed me; raw power and primal instincts drove every movement of its sleek body. I watched as it tore into the flesh of my leg with a clinical detachedness. This was not my first encounter with sharks.
My flesh always recovers from trauma, bones and tissue knitting together neatly, the skin resuming the same pale transcluence from being without sun for too long. My mind, however, has not.
I almost made contact centuries ago. At first, I counted the days based on periods of light and dark, but this quickly became tedious. I have no way of knowing for sure if it was months, years, or centuries ago, time has become as fluid as the liquid that flows around me. He was in a skintight suit, something created after my underwater entombment. I sleep for weeks at a time, and only noticed him as he swam on, completely unaware of my existence.
Today's encounter has left me shaking. I might have found a way out of my current situation. The pollution around me has become rampant to the point that I am half submerged in a dizzying array of wrappers, plastic containers, among other trademarks of humanity. It seems that the nearby city has decided to begin cleaning the harbor today. Small silver drones began patrolling the seafloor, each equipped with specialized appendages. One scanned the entire area, a red laser bathing large swaths of the sand and debris while seeming to orchestrate the movement of the others.
When the roving laser washed over my position, it paused for a moment as if one of its numerous sensors detected a lifeform in danger. Drones began to cluster around me, but none attempted to free me. They left me as I had been found, naked except for the cement shoes I wear, handmade for me by New York City's finest businessmen, the Mafia. Now I wait for the sun to rise again.
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I was born to rule the world. My destiny, no matter what, was to be above humanity itself. Even though I was raised in a poor household, I ended up being adopted by a rich family - who knows how they got their wealth - my deadbeat father managed to save. That was their worst mistake. Even at an early age, I longed for wealth and power, and the only obstacles to those were those two. In my endeavours to end both of them without suspicion, I found a mysterious mask, which I found out granted someone immortality and the ability to surpass their own humanity. Long story short, I ended up killing both of them and used the mask I found to give myself this power. But alas, the son of the man who adopted me, one who I could almost regard as a brother, looking back, survived, and severely injured me with the help of a secretive organisation. With the help of my minions, however, I managed to board the ship he and his wife were on, and killed him, using his body to recover from my injuries. Unfortunately he managed to sink the ship we were on, condemning me for my betrayal of his family.
After God knows how long, some foolish divers discovered me, while looking for treasure. They had strange and advanced technology, - I would have to get used to it. There were just a handful of people on the both, from what I could gather, just looking for some money to make. Of course I made short work of those fools, and set about on my delayed quest for world domination - a feat worthy for a being such as myself, after exploring the world for a few years.
Before I can do that, however, I have to deal with my "brother's" descendants. Like those mafia families you see in those movies, they had a strong bond, and many friends to aid them. I sit waiting for them in my mansion in Cairo. An old man, two high-schoolers, a master swordsman and a fortune teller, plus some sort of intelligent dog have come to challenge my greatness. They have abilities too, but none as strong as mine. I, DIO, formerly Dio Brando, will defeat them all, and I shall take my place above ALL humanity, for I have transcended them, I have transcended even myself, to become a being far greater than my humble human origins. Let this text mark the begining of my ascent to world dominance.
DIO
| 2018-11-24T12:11:20 | 2018-11-24T10:49:19 | 75 | 27 |
[WP] Your power to stop time is automatically activated when you are talking with someone and need the perfect words (witty joke, flirty line, comeback, etc.). Time won't flow again until you have those perfect words. This time, you've been frozen for what feels like two days.
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I stared at Tori’s face. I’d been looking at her for what felt like days. She looked like she always had. Her eyes were bright. Her hair was in a typical messy bun. She smiled up at me awaiting a response.
Tori had just finished telling me about her day, and everything went still. I felt it coming as she finished her sentence. The universe stopping time to give me a chance to find the right words. Usually it takes me a few minutes to come up with a joke or a compliment and time will continue like nothing happened. Not this time. No matter what I said everything stayed as it was.
She told me about sleeping through her alarm and being late for class. She told me about going to the store and forgetting to pick up toilet paper. She talked about her mom and her sisters new dog. It was all normal.
I starting working into nonsense sentences trying to make time start again. What if it never started again? What if I was stuck in this moment for the rest of my life? Would I even age? Would this be forever? Breathe.
“Do you think cucumbers think pickles are ugly?” I said. Nothing.
I had already dug through her apartment and came up with zilch. I went through her laptop again, and besides some questionable search history, nothing stuck out as the right topic. I didn’t know what I was looking for I just hoped it would be obvious when I found it.
I flopped back down onto her bed and looked up at her. Tori remained a timeless statue. It almost felt like a cruel joke. The only time I can’t find the right words is with the person I would call my best friend. How could I not know what to say to her?
I sat up and rested my hands on the edge of the bed. My fingertips brushed something hard under her mattress. I stood and lifted the mattress to find a small leather bound book. Reading through it I was surprised by handwritten short stories and poetry. All of the entries were similar. And dark.
With the book back under the mattress, I sat back in my place next to Tori. I knew what to say.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly. It took a moment but I watched life return to Tori. Tears welled in her eyes. Her whole demeanor changed like she was a house of cards and I got too close.
“No.”
|
It had happened before, but never for this long.
Alexander was 23 when he discovered time was his best friend. Whenever he needed time to think of the perfect words, that perfect email or perfect flirty phrase, time stopped around him. People froze mid-sentence, birds stopped flying in mid-air, the TV's paused as they were. Alexander could stop time, but only when he was at a loss of words.
Initially Alexander had trouble getting used to it but soon discovered he could use it to his advantage. In business meetings Alex could use his new power to stop time and create the presentation he had been too tired to prepare the night before. When chatting up Megan from the cubicle next door, Alex discovered he always had ample time to come up with the perfect joke or compliment. Sometimes Alex even created a situation to freeze time to nap, or make time to learn a new hobby-- Alex, by 25 had learned to utilize his power, but never before had he managed to freeze time for so long.
It had been two days since this happened.
Yesterday? The Day before? Today?
Alex didn't know anymore but he did know it had been two days since he froze time. It was a Saturday, a day typically reserved for an early morning jog with his neighbor. For the past two years, Alex and his neighbor Macy had gone on jogs every Saturday morning, and someday even included brunch. But this Saturday Macy had to cancel, and so Alex got out of his bed at 8, and resorted to reading the newspaper.
Alex had flipped through the news, the opinion pieces, even the comics, he even did the crossword, Alex had done everything right and yet he had managed to stop the world in its tracks for a whole 48 hours.
Bored and defeated, Alex turned to the back page of the newspaper, hoping to have a puzzle he missed. His eyes scanned over the crossword on more time and he noticed one blank box, at the intersection of a vertical and horizontal word.
The hint, 25 across, read, "Lead singer of the legendary band 'Queen.'"
Alexander had written out the letters F-R-E-D-D-I-E M-E-R-C-\[\]-R-Y.
Alex reached around for a pencil, and dug one out from between his couch cushions. He carefully leaned over, and wrote in the letter "U," and as he lifted his pencil the birds began to chirp, the microwave beeped, and once again, all was good.
| 2019-02-25T20:33:52 | 2019-02-25T19:15:02 | 53 | 25 |
[WP] Turns our that dragons are laid back underachievers. They could rule as gods, being virtually invincible, but almost all of them prefer a nice comfy nest in the mountains and a nice fat cow every week.
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"Dragon I do not understand" asked the boy.
With a low grumble the dragon shifted, a small plume of smoke rising from it's nose.
"What is it you do not understand, I have told you my story, the good, the evil, the love, the loss and the truth. You have come to my cave every day for a fortnight to listen, the first human in a millennium to do so, and the question you ask is that you don't understand? Why is that?" The dragon replied in a bemused tone.
"Well I guess I just don't understand why with all the power you hold. To create and destroy, to give powers to heroes and villains. To hold a spark of divine creation in your heart of hearts. Why sit in this cold damp cave and do nothing."
"Little Mortal I have done everything you could think of and more. I have seen life rise and fall, creatures come and go. I have raised empires, destroyed vast civilizations, been the hero and the villain, seen thousands of wars, destroyed entire specie's. Raised heroes and crafted evils. I have done everything I have ever wanted to and done it the way I intended it to be. And for now I am content with living quietly and in peace."
The boy sat in silence for a while, his face dimly lit by glowing embers.
Finally he spoke up "Dragon, can you tell me another story?"
With a sigh of content, the dragon got comfortable and replied "And what story would you like to hear little one."
|
“Really? A cow?”
“Why not? It is good succulent meat, good as any one could wish for,” he belched. “Nothing sticking in your teeth, catching in your throat.”
As he lay on the grassy plateau looking up at the cool night sky, Drogon let out a good deal of smoke with a good deal of noise from a rather undignified opening.
“Well at least that’s not methane.” The wind wasn’t blowing in my favor.
“The CH4 thingy? I’m telling you, that’s far too much ado about nothing.”
“So you are Shakespeare, the climatologist, now?” As I looked down upon the endless stretch of lights that glittered all around us of god knows which city, I did not think the question the least bit absurd.
“That puny bastard.” he chuckled, “Came by once and after he came to, wanted to know why God made men love men. I wasn’t very hungry. As for your methane, ask Halgon to take one good year’s sleep and you would be begging for methane before he’s halfway through.”
“Why just a cow though? Why not a deer? Aren’t they tastier?”
“Hrrrmph! Deer?! Did you see them run?” And with that he closed his scaly eyelids in what I thought was a rather pointedly sleepy droop.
I walked a little way from his fumes of sleep and looked down longingly upon the thousands of people with their millions of lights that would be but the moon by the sun of his breath and their millions of weapons that would be but cotton on his skin.
| 2019-05-25T21:53:01 | 2019-05-25T21:52:48 | 32 | 20 |
[WP] Your name is Karen and you just completed your final level of training. After the hair cutting ceremony, you feel a wild energy surge through your veins... you now have the ultimate power of summoning any retail store manager in the universe.
[removed]
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The scene of a wild west standoff began unfolding in what would be an ordinary Whole Foods bulk aisle. I didn't even need to say anything before the other customers dispersed in terror. The light indie music over the intercoms added a bizarre innocence to the standoff, like those dirty hipsters didn't know what was about to happen. I took a deep gulp of my organic hemp milk and mustered all of the essential oils in my body for this ritual,
"JEFF BEZOOOOOOOSSSSSSS!!!!!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The glass shattered around me as a large wormhole tore that bald bastard from whatever corporate meeting he was in. He looked around in disparate confusion as he found himself in a Whole Foods in Boulder, Colorado. He turned to me, and I could see the terror in that little bitch's face. Without hesitation, I reached into my paper grocery bag and pulled out a bag of quinoa.
"Mr. Bezos, do you know where this quinoa came from?" He looked befuddled, probably still terrified after being pulled through the space time continuum to get here,
"I-I-I don't know." He stuttered, frantically pulling himself up on his feet. "I can assure you-"
"IT CAME FROM SICUANI, PERU!" I roared, the energy pulsing through my veins. "DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT THE WORKERS IN SOUTHERN PERU AREN'T COMPENSATED PROPERLY FOR THEIR WORK AND THEIR COMMUNITIES ARE AFFECTED BY SELLING THEIR MAIN CROP!? I DIDN'T PAY TWENTY DOLLARS FOR AN OUNCE OF FAIR TRADE ORGANIC QUINOA ONLY TO LEARN THAT IT WASN'T FAIR TRADE!?!?" Storm clouds gathered above as the ceiling of the building tore asunder. Tornado winds mustered and soared around us as I moved in for the kill,
"I WILL NEVER TAKE MY UNVACCINATED KIDS TO THIS AUTISM FACTORY AFTER SOCCER PRACTICE EVER AGAIN, AND I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT NO ONE EVER WILL. I HAVE-"
"No! Don't say it!" Jeff screamed, tears gushing down his face as he realized his fate.
"I HAVE SHARED THIS ON FACEBOOK!"
"Noooooooooo!" The kombucha in my stomach channeled into a powerful pulse of energy that annihilated Jeff Bezos into oblivion where he stood. Before me were the ashes of the richest man in the world. And I wasn't even close to done.
"SOMEONE! GET ME A KALE SALAD! I have work to do..."
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You walked briskly towards the front of the parking lot. The bag you were carrying was light but it was still annoying to have to cart around. Your newly short hair was still an adjustment, but a necessary one. Today would be a defining moment that proved that all that you had worked for had *meant* something.
It was a lonely road. Filled with the stares of the plebeians and whispers of the peanut gallery. But who were they when compared to you? You who had trained at the feet of Deborah the Destroyer and Sharon the Sanctimonious. You who at the start of your training could reduce the local retail workers at Panera to tears at the very mention of your name.
Who else but you would be able to teach them that the customer was always right? Your eyes darkened at the thought of all the times those halfwits at Starbucks wouldn't just give you a free frappuccino. You had already *bought* one for god's sake. You were still thirsty! What were you supposed to do? Buy another one like the rest of the unwashed masses? But no, those times were coming to a close.
Now would be the first moment of the rest of your life. Your first day as a new graduate. There would be no more losing. No more humiliations. For *you* that was.
You put your sunglasses on and quickly maneuvered past the hoards of people leaving the store. Your lip curled. So many young hoodlums. What business did they have here? But, it was better to put these things aside. *For now.* You knew where you were headed.
The long line of young people was truly astounding. Astounding in the fact that they actually thought you were going to wait in line for something that would only take a few minutes. You bypassed the line and ignored the jeers of people who were clearly brought up by wolves.
"I was just here two days ago when I purchased this. I don't want it anymore and I want my money back" You sneered
"Ma'am I'm sorry but you're going to have to wait your tu-" the cashier stuttered
"EXCUSE ME? I WAS JUST HERE TWO DAYS AGO! I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO WAIT IN LINE! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!"
"Ma'am I'm sorry but it's Target's College Night today and we're a little busy perhaps you could shop around a bit and then come back-"
"WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?!"
"I'm sorry ma'am but currently she's helping other customers. I can-"
"NO! TELL HER THAT THERE IS A CUSTOMER THAT NEEDS TO BE ATTENDED RIGHT NOW!"
"I'm sorry ma'am but could I get your name?"
"My. Name. Is.Karen."
| 2019-05-26T12:06:22 | 2019-05-26T11:43:45 | 126 | 27 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal.
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She smiles at me from across the table, and raises a glass of white wine to my red. It’s funny, I had never noticed her preference for white wine before tonight- our anniversary- perhaps it’s because the house red is poisoned tonight. I could see the particulates collecting in the bottom of the glass.
Our glasses clink with a crisp sound and I drain the lot in one go. Arsenic gives an acrid flavour to the wine, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as it turning to vinegar.
“To our long and happy lives darling,” I say, resting my hand over hers. The obnoxiously large diamond ring I bought her when we got married sits uncomfortably under my fingers, but when you’ve had centuries to collect wealth, the size and opulence of jewellery like this ceases to surprise you.
My wife’s smile tightens at my statement, as if she knows something I don’t. Of course, she doesn’t know anything I don’t, I’ve had a millennia to collect every scrap of knowledge I can, every tell tale sign of deceit and danger is obvious when you’re looking for it.
Another glass, and she begins to smile less. I’ll let her win eventually, but not until another foreign “cousin” who looks remarkably similar collects my entire inheritance- We signed a prenup after all- and she’s left with the guilt of my murder with nothing to show for it.
I love breaking in black widows, it’s my favourite hobby.
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“I want him gone! Do you understand me?” I watched my wife talk to a hit man from the top of a nearby tower. She was truly beautiful. Her long curly black hair was loosely tied back. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled with malicious intent. She was strong willed and persuasive as well. She was perfect. “I see, of course Mrs. Athánatos, consider you husband dead.” The hit man told her, a cruel smile crossing over his face. I watched as my wife scrunched up her face in distaste. “ Do not make me promises you can not keep Mr. Loue, many men have promised me that, and all have failed.” Me. Loue nodded stood up and headed towards my office building in the distance. I sighed, it was probably time to get back, it seems I had yet another guest to entertain. I looked back down at my beautiful wife, her eyes seething with anger and hatred. I loved when she tried to kill me. I knew she was after my multi billion corporation, I knew from the beginning it was her sending the hit men, but what my wife didn’t know was that I was immortal. But she was trying so hard to kill me that I didn’t have the heart to make her stop. I turned and headed into the building, down the elevator and into the streets where my driver was waiting. “ Back to Athánatos Towers sir?” I nodded, “Yes Mr. Letum, I wouldn’t want to keep my guest waiting to long.”
| 2019-07-31T09:07:14 | 2019-07-31T08:57:07 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] You are a Death-Salesman. You sell death to immortals who are tired of living. Usually, this entails finding that one blessed bullet, or that one specific flower that is this immortal's weakness. However, your most recent client is an extremely difficult case.
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Here's the deal. We've exhausted all of our leads, and we've found absolutely nothing that can kill you. Your power transcends time, space, logic, and everything else. If you didn't want to be having this conversation, you wouldn't be having it. But you know that already.
That said, we believe that there is one thing that can kill you.
You.
Hey! Don't snap at me, it's a waste of my time and your money. I know you've already tried everything. That's the only reason anyone comes to us.
As far as we can tell, *anything* you believe strongly enough comes true. But to believe things, you must exist. We think the reason every attempt you've made to die has failed is that the thought underlying the action - "**I** will vaporize myself," "**I** will undo my own birth," "**I** will rewrite physics to make my existence impossible" - presupposes an "I" that is taking the action. Your power will force you to continue to exist as long as you believe that you do.
I can see you straining. You're trying to believe you don't exist, right? But *you* are having that thought, and you know it. It'll never go anywhere.
For you to die, you will have to have the genuine, unreserved thought that "whoever is having this thought does not exist." It's a contradiction. It's a sentiment exclusively reserved to the mentally ill. Cogito, ergo fuck you.
As for how to do it...we already have some ideas. Connie can take your credit card information when you're ready.
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Most jobs have a private section that ride alongside the general practitioners of that type of job, for teachers, private school, and doctors, private hospitals. As for me, I belong to the 9th plane of hell's 'Surekill' corporation, a private corporation that works alongside the reapers, meant for the death of immortals.
​
It's not to say that the grim reapers of the 6th plane *cannot* kill an immortal, it just takes a long long time for them to tip the scales of fate in order for some or another incident to end the life of whatever dumb sod that decided it was a good idea to live forever.
​
No it was not to say that at all, but like other private sections, our work came at a great/er cost than whatever the reapers could ever reasonably claim, and we damn well earned it. To kill an immortal takes a death assessment team to assess from which world we could find an item that would kill an immortal, and then my job would be to acquire such an item within the 100 year time limit we promised.
​
We are the best in all the planes at our jobs, we just, weren't ready for our latest job. In fact it shouldn't be possible, the reason I disdained fools you sought out immortality was that they did not have the one thing needed for immorality to turn from blessing to curse, they lacked divine power. Regardless of the creature, even a hint of divine power meant that that creature would never want to kill themselves, it was at once the greatest anti-depressant and source of life of any heavenly or hell born creature that could live forever.
​
Our latest customer, had more divine power than any, it was a God.
| 2019-09-24T20:46:14 | 2019-09-24T20:39:34 | 51 | 12 |
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy.
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Colonel Yak'Xar stood on the bridge of the Titan-class flagship Last Hope. Before him was a G-class star, and the third planet surrounding it was his target. Sol III, a backwards planet with so much hostile flora and fauna any intelligent species was nervous to go there. The First League had sentenced the human race to permanent exile, with no permission for intergalactic travel.
That was almost 65 million years ago. They had frozen the entire species in a vault inside an asteroid and fired it at the planet. Sure, they had caused a minor extinction event, but it was worth it to get rid of the humans.
But now they were back. Orbiting the blue and green orb in the void, an armada of ships hung in wait for orders. None were the size of Last Hope, but there were enough cruisers and battleships to worry him.
His orders were simple. Destroy the enemy fleet, and clear the path for the World Cracker. Humans had not been meant to survive, let alone return to the galaxy a spacefaring Empire once more. Commander Yak'Xar turned to his crew.
"Charge the Perdition Beam and prepare the Neutron Launchers. Send out the command to every ship in the fleet; ready weapons. I want every ship firing as soon as we are in range."
Several soldiers hurried to obey, tapping at their consoles to Relay commands, set up battle systems. As the battle stations klaxon began blaring, a young officer, Lieutenant Ashartha stepped forward. She was pretty for an Irassian, and one of the few who escaped the Javorian Pox. Still naive, though.
"Sir, these humans. How do we know they still pose a threat? Are they really do bad we can't give them one last chance?" Her mandibles clicked nervously.
Yak'Xar turned to his junior officer. "Your race were not around when the humans last infected this galaxy. They conquered, enslaved, and killed for fun. Their greed ripped ecosystems of life, and then moved on to the next planet. They even captured a Void cloud and found a way to torture it until it let them use it as a power cell. They have even managed to begin killing the most hostile planet known to the first league. These are not a species. They are an *infestation*!" the passion in his voice echoed around the bridge. Everyone had paused their activity to observe their commander's rant. Silence fell across the room.
Lieutenant Ashartha took a step back, but slowly regained her composure.
"Sir," she began again, speaking quietly but firmly. "Humans have been out of galactic contention for aeons. They are at a disadvantage in tech, influence, naval power... Surely we can use them to our advantage? I think we should at least talk to them. If they give us any reason to mistrust them, we resume with the original orders."
There was a long pause as Yak'Xar stood contemplating.
"Very well," he finally announced. "Open a comms channel to Sol III."
|
The screens blared in agony as bells rang.
"ALERT. ALERT. MESSAGE FOXTROT UNIFORM CHARLIE KILO RECIEVED"
Dianne looked out of the window to see a ship like no other. It didn't seem to have a beginning or end or even to exist at all, yet it was there. All that was know of this ship was that the Drehlah were the creators and it's one of a kind.
It wasn't big, maybe the size of a class two or even 3. Who knows?
"Captain! What do we do? This message it makes no sense right? Right captain?"
Captain Dianne, she liked that. The ship tried to fight but we had something they didn't. They have the quantum realm at their fingertips. They have bose-einstien condesate to play with. They have the ability to make black holes beautiful stars. But Dianne had a smile and felt like winning.
She talked into the translator, "Message recieved, we do not stand down,". A drone that shook the ship pulsed out of this unimaginable existance. Everyone on board looked at each other then fell to their knees.
"Please" this word held the fear and hope of all of the universe and had just been sent to a crew of barely 200. Most planets would have been obliterated, turned to dust with only a fraction of that drone. But these weren't any normal people. These were the best people of the best humans, of the best living things.
Of course there was one still standing. A herionne who has never stopped trying. The walls of the alien ship would take a billion nukes with the power of a star but she donned her suit and jumped towards it.
As she came closer time slowed she felt herself getting weaker and could feel the people inside. Their souls, they all had one thought.
Stay away
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached for the hull and saw it all. Trillions and quadrillions of entities. Ranging from the most intelligent to the most strong, or both.
When Dianne recieved the message FUCK she didn't understand what they meant but now, being connected to all living things outside of this bubble she knew, oh she knew!
FUCK-OFF-EVIL-BEINGS: WE ARE NOT AFRAID. WE WANT PEACE. WE WANT YOU TO STAY AWAY. WE KEEP YOU IN HERE USING OUR SHIP. WE HOLD THE HUMANS IN AND LET OURSELVES FLOURISH. FUCK OFF EVIL BEINGS.
These creatures thought that they could contain us but they should have killed us when they had the chance. Dianne could feel that the only difference between us and all of them was that we never stop. She channelled her willpower and used all of her strength to save humanity.
In a word all of them were gone. Not even dust remained. There were children and adults and old and dead but now they don't exist. Even together with all of their might their collective emotion couldn't hold a candle to even one mind.
"No".
| 2019-11-14T23:04:00 | 2019-11-14T16:24:09 | 39 | 23 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
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Of course this isn't real. It can't be. Tell me again, Urist, why you decided to take my phone and text 'yes'?
First of all, I don't like bragging. Especially not false bragging.
It's all well and good if you've been playing... I dunno.. Skyrim or whatever. A game that has a goal, a game that is 'beatable' for lack of better words. DotA 2 has a clear objective, Mario Kart too; hell, even Minecraft has the Enderdragon.
​
And then the world changes, and my phone fades in front of me. The world dims while images dance in my eyes. It's done.
I wait through world generation, not grasping the entirety of this situation.
I pick an embark site, head still spinning.
Strike the earth! There's no other choice.
​
Seasons pass. Migrants come. Dwarves are born and die.
Rooms are built. Stockpiles filled. Traders come and go.
I gaze up at the hydra, and I know. I guess I've always known.
​
Winning is great, but losing has been fun.
|
"I'm screwed," I lamented for what might have been the fifth time, out loud and to know one in particular. Feeling utterly defeated, I leaned against an oak tree and slid down until I was sitting where its roots should have been. The ground was hard and flat.
I was sure I had never been this alone in my life. Nor as hungry. The breeze was growing cold as the sun set. Three of the knuckles in my right hand were broken - all four were bleeding. A matching smear of my blood mark the tree just above my head.
Worst, I knew I was nowhere - a world made at random by a capricious algorithm. At first I'd hoped there might be other suckers like me, but surely someone would have marked this place - spawn - and left something of instructions. Without other human people, the best I could hope for would be villages of idiots, dotting the landscape randomly and precariously. The worst, and more likely, would be crawling out of the bushes looking for blood soon.
And even if I survived, can one really beat Minecraft? I'd have to hope slaying the dragon would count - a sandbox game might be a loophole that would condemn me here until death.
With no food, no tools, and little hope, I could only set off in a random direction and pray I'd find a safe place to pass the night.
| 2020-02-16T22:18:04 | 2020-02-16T21:57:27 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] In your village, every child is tested to see where their magical abilities lie. Your parents discover that yours is with insects. Your village thinks that your abilities are the weakest of them all, but now that you're in your full power you are the strongest.
|
King Bugby had not always been king. His name had not always been Bugby either, but now he wore it with pride, his birth name forgotten since the day of the Sorting. "Bug Boy, Bug Boy," the village kids had jeered.
Bug Boy was a gentle soul, one who would not see even an ant trampled, and so Bug Boy he became. It was fitting, his mother told him that night, as she tucked him into his straw-mat bed.
His parents worked as silk-spinners, twisting threads and incantations into fine garments. Every Sunday, his father would bring him on the three-hour carriage ride to the city markets, where they would sell their ware to nobles. There he would watch the beast-masters dance with their tamed lions, to the roar and coin of delighted crowds.
Bug Boy tried to imitate them only once. He summoned a pack of glittering dragonflies that flew undulating to the rhythm of a dozen buzzing bees. Two women fled and a baby cried before his father smacked the swarm away from their street-side store.
Bug Boy did not mind. He busied himself helping his parents. He lacked the gift for silk-spinning but didn't lack anything hard work could make up for, his mother said.
To his father's annoyance, insects liked to gather where Bug Boy walked. Bug Boy would whisper to the worms and chat with the ladybugs about the weather, occasionally bringing in the washing just before it rained.
And so Bug Boy lived until the news of the famine. The famine ravaged the yields of the wood-weavers but first it destroyed the demand for fine clothes. With the markets empty, Bug Boy's family tilled their lawn with desperation and hope.
It was his mother that first noticed the bees. Spring seemed to buzz every day for the Bug Boy family, as they harvested bounty after bounty of golden crops.
Their neighbors noticed second. Then the village. Soon Bug Boy was calling on the aid of bees, butterflies, and beetles to the gratitude and coin of prostrated elders.
The news of Bug Boy, now reported as Bugby, spread through the desperate kingdom. To hero's welcomes, Bugby rode from village to village with a cloud of his bees, leaving new growth in his wake.
The king called on him personally. He would grant Bugby lands and noble status if he could rid the kingdoms of its curse. Locusts. Bugby bowed. He would talk to them, he said.
Bugby's lands were the most plentiful in the kingdom. He moved his parents from their creaking cottage to a giant manor. He luxuriated in the riches of wheat and cotton, and his name reached the far corners of the kingdom.
But Bugby grew bored. His hands ached. He had grown up mending patchwork blankets, and he longed for the needle once more.
The reigning king had no sons. When his daughter came of age, he announced her hand to the greatest noble. All nobles had wealth, and most had fame. The greatest, the king decreed, would be the suitor who brought a gift that touched his daughter's heart.
The coastal houses brought orbs of swirling vortexes, trapped in glass by their finest river-benders. The spheres glittered in the light, beautiful as the princess's dazzled eyes. The mountain houses brought crystalline gems wrought by hardened rock-smiths. The king's daughter oohed and aahed to the sparkle of the glowing masterpieces.
But only one gift made her cry. Bugby smiled wordlessly when he presented his gift. A simple silk shirt. It was pale white, and when the princess held it, soft. The softest silk she had ever touched. Spider silk.
A bug, he had been called. The lowest of the low. Now, on insect wings, he would fly to the highest of heights.
r/bobotheturtle
|
“Have you ever felt a nest of spiders burst in your throat, slowly making their way down your throat until they pick and pull at your organs. I hear it’s meant to be painful, at least that’s what I hear. In fairness, I never get a proper answer when I ask. Usually, all they say is. Ah, please make it stop. That sounds painful, don’t you agree?” I leaned back on my stone throne, spinning my finger in the air as an enormous spider hung from it, swaying with the movements. “Now you had something you wish to discuss with me? Something about an invasion of my village? Please tell me these plans of yours. I’m sure your army will get into my village without getting overrun by insects. It’s not like my little creepy crawlies are everywhere.”
The warmonger stared at the leader, taking a few steps away from his throne. “They said you were the weak one, the man who played with worms.” He had lost his nerve and for good reason, a spider bite tends to cause paranoia. Did he think I would let him this close to me without a backup plan? Luckily for him, this wouldn’t be lethal, he may not even realize it happened. That was the point of an attack like this.
“Oh, that was me. Was being the word you should focus on. You are stupid if you think insects are weak. To have a weapon that you don’t even have to carry on you, that’s truly an amazing ability. Sure I was mocked at first, I can’t blame them for that. When I was a child it was a weak ability, I could maybe summon a few worms up from the dirt, but that was the limit of my ability. Now however I can control up to ten thousand, give or take. Those little buggers are awfully hard to count.”
“I-I'm sorry, this was clearly a misstep on my part. I believe we were planning to target the village next to yours anyway. I just wanted to know if we could have a safe passage.” He didn’t even have enough time to wipe the sweat from his brow as he backtraced his words. Seemed even a dumb warmonger knew when to back away from a battle. Humans were animals, they knew better than to fight against creatures that would put up a fight. Bugs, however, didn’t know that fear, they would team up and conquer beasts much bigger then them if need be. Bugs were truly the ultimate warriors.
“A misstep? I’m not buying it. I got this position as a leader due to my power and wit, it’s insulting that an idiot like you thinks they can outsmart me. Now here’s what's going to happen. You will be giving me twenty-five percent of your wheat as an apology and fifty gold from your account. If these demands aren’t met then I will make sure my bugs infect every inch of your farmland. I hope we have an understanding. I assume you know what will happen if you
betray my request.” I raised my finger, pointing towards his throat as the spider raised its front legs.
“Of course not, I will talk with my people, I’m sure we can come to an agreement, now let me get back to my village. I don’t want to take up more of your time.” He was quick to flee, only stopping once I spoke up.
“One last thing, run some chilly water over your neck. It will get rather sore if you don’t.” I gave him a last smile, watching him tap his neck, only to wince when he felt the hot sensation building. That only assisting in his swift exit, wanting to create as much distance from me as he could.
“Weak?” That made me laugh. Did people really not understand what truly made an ability strong. Sure, some magic was naturally strong, but the ability of the wielder of that magic was more important.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.}
| 2020-05-23T08:00:58 | 2020-05-23T06:26:26 | 90 | 38 |
[WP] The human race is extinct, but no one knows because billions of different alien races all sent spies disguised as humans to earth, and they all think they're the only alien and everyone else is human.
|
“With all the technological advancements we have given them over the years, I can’t believe these lines are still always so long,” Zax -Lo thought, “all I want are my prescriptions.”
Zax had been waiting for almost an hour. This suburban town, although bustling at times, could be maddeningly slow when it came to queues at the local pharmacy. He relied on the human cholesterol medication in order to keep his secret. He had been chosen for a mission to collect information from earth, and side effects of the medicine kept his alien identity from surfacing through his earthling “camouflage.”
As he stood waiting for his turn, he let his mind wander and daydream about random events from the past 80 years. All the places and people he had seen, all the world events that occurred, (sometimes with a little push from Zax himself), and let a smile slowly form on his faux human face. Then he thought of the lines. Oh my, the lines! His memories shifted across his earth lifetime: lines for events, lines for food, lines to buy things, lines of traffic to get into lines of more traffic.
The smile had faded, and Zax furrowed his human brows. And now **this** line ! Just so he could hide amongst the humans, and handle their food? Why should he continue to wait in lines with these inferior beings? Always pushing, and crowding. They could be vulgar and rude, even the nice ones, trying to be friendly, but only coming off as annoying. The rage grew inside him. He could feel his blue blood boil, forming a barely visible steam on the top of his head. It had been nearly a century of this, and he had heard nothing from home base. The deep anger had grown beyond his control, bubbling to the surface.
“THAT’S IT!”
With a roar, Zax grabbed the loose skin on the back of his neck, and began to tear the human epidermis from his body.
He hadn’t accounted for his clothes however, and had a difficult time removing them along with the skin. As his wet, green/blue body stepped out of his pants, his human legs slid to the floor in a pile. He threw the tatters of the rest of his disguise to the side, and kicked away the mound of ripped flesh.
There he stood in all his glory, body glowing, his two sets of eyes whirling in each direction, taking in the surprised looks on all the people’s faces around him. The antenna on his head spun and sparked with purple
light.
“I AM ZAX-LO! I HAVE COME TO BRING CHANGE TO THIS PLANET! KNEEL BEFORE ME! FOR I AM A SUPERIOR BEING AND WILL LEAD YOU TO A PROSPEROUS FUTURE!”
Zax waited for the inevitable response, surely these people would be scared into submission, and he could become the new leader of the world soon enough.
He searched their faces, while they all just stared.
“Why weren’t they doing anything?”, he wondered.
Then, he watched, as some customers slowly reached behind their heads, others pressed buttons on hidden devices, and some closed their eyes in concentration.
Human forms fell to the ground, holograms deactivated, and psychic barriers disappeared, leaving only the alien forms once hidden underneath them.
All the aliens looked at each other, there must have been representatives from over 20 planets, in just this store alone! Everyone was checking out the rainbow of colors, in awe the varied sizes, and the new smells that appeared all at once.
After all the shuffling was over, it was deathly quiet. Zax’s secret has been revealed, only to uncover a whole new truth. None of us were human. What now? The silence held everyone in place, searching each other, looking for how to react.
“NEXT IN LINE!”
The pharmacist’s shout pulled everyone from the lull, he too was now a tall, thin, yellow and red, insect like creature. He however had carefully taken off his white lab coat, and put it back on after he returned to his alien form.
“Next!”
A small, squishy looking, ball of a creature who was next in line moved to the counter, “Picking up for ‘Micheal Anderson’”
Everyone picked up their discarded human suits, and casually went back to their business.
“I guess there goes *that* plan,” Zax thought, as he slowly side stepped back into his place in line. He sighed, and resigned himself to the long wait once again. At least he wouldn’t need to disguise himself anymore, but damnit, he still needed to get his heartburn medication.
|
"What are you thinking about Jim?" Said Kwaerzolia, the peacekeeper in his ever changing raspy voice.
I am really going to miss this place; tomorrow marks the last day of the accursed pledge I was programmed into making. I hope they are all waiting for me; and not crumbled into dust for the stars and galaxies far away as the Sargent would say. Its been two thousand and twelve lonely years but I think I can finally rest easy .
If it weren't were for this backache and these stupid voices ; i could have given it a year or two just to see how...
"Jim? Jim... JIMMMMMMM!!!!!", Kwaerzolia had begin screeching in the most petrifying voice.
I hate it when Kwaerzolia screeches, these guys look like humans but no human can ever make a noise so horrendous except maybe those opera singers from the old times.
"Hey Kwaerzolia, you have stuck with me the better part of 50 years; do you wanna know something interesting?
"The weather is nice today... Please do tell me" muttered Kwaerzolia after registering he was being asked a question.
"Well, the real humans have been gone for over a millennium; I am the last one and I am going to shutdown tomorrow."
"Did you catch yesterday's running of The Meptulians.... WHAT?? But there are soo many of us everywhere" started screeching Kwaerzolia again; this time changing colours from his usual peachish red to a very omnious green.
"C'mon man, anyone who's human can see it. You guys are good with your disguises but humans don't change colours or voices. We don't have spare limbs and our hair can't grow half a foot in one day."
"Besides, no human in their right mind would be named Gwaerzolia, the peacekeeper"
"I really hope the Chupaqabras win tonights game... Where did you all go then? Kwaerzolia said now monotonously, already losing interest in the conversation.
"And for heaven's sake, humans don't always start with an icebreaker everytime we talk, I mean if only you could understand how annoying that is." I replied, hoping Kwaerzolia doesn't start screeching again.
"Well, us humans had discovered immortality way before you guys started coming in. We were strong back then, one of us could take down ten of any other species. And we were the only ones who had weapons; the rest of you couldn't even fathom the concept... I don't even know if you still do.
"I feel me and my wife have connection problems... Interesting that.." My chuckle caught the unwary Kwaerzolia off guard.
"Aah, my dear Kwaerzolia, you don't even have a wife. Well I know you guys don't even care why the humans shut themselves down but tell me why do you guys stay here knowing there's nothing left?" I asked as a final resort before Kwaerzolia gets overwhelmed by the particulars of my dialogue.
" The politicians these days are all show and no boat... Ttkkkk... We like being humans. I can wear different colours every day and I can play golf with my friends. We have pizza parties and we are supposed to express ourselves. Is it really that obvious that I am not human? Said Kwaerzolia and in this instant, he was the most human he had been in the past 50 years.
"Well, humans drink a lot and you guys build bars and make good liquor but never drink any. You also can't hold a conversation without sweating, dripping, screeching all over. But I wish you luck... Kwaerzolia, you and the rest of your brothers. May you make more of it then you ever did" I knew this is the most conversation I can have and gladly ended it there before he starts screeching again.
We humans had given up our fertility for our immortality. Sooner our later, our societies collapsed because no one had to work anymore; it wasn't fun anymore. However, our real weakness lay in our minds; we consumed ourselves in the end. We became paranoid and delusional, most of us shutting themselves down when they couldn't handle it any more. I had been given the task of taking care of incubation chambers incase the aliens can rebuild society. I feel they have done a good job. I can shutdown after the last of the technicalities have been handled.
We humans go extinct tomorrow, but atleast we'll be reborn into a brand new society. If it's one thing humans could do, it was get a job done.
| 2020-06-21T05:59:47 | 2020-06-21T01:49:50 | 727 | 222 |
[WP] There is a tradition in the US Navy that no submarine is ever considered lost, those that go to sea and don't return are considered "Still on Patrol". There are 52 WW2 submarines still on patrol, and they have just started coming home.
|
Date: Monday, May 31st, 2030.
0300 hours
Location: 40km east of [REDACTED]
Operation: Depths Rising
Lt. John Abbott stares out over the cold, deadly waterscape in front of him, marveling as the waves smack the shore, the smell of salt lingers in every pore. He pulls a final drag of his cigarette, before snuffing it out upon the wavebreaker in front of him, he stands and turns towards his post, a rundown lighthouse on the edge of the abyss. He cursed himself for being stuck there. *"I don't even like the ocean."* the thought booms within his mind as he kicks small pebbles at his feet. He dares a final glance over his shoulder as he approaches the entrance of the building, spotting massive storm clouds on the horizon as he shuts the door behind him. He lets out a sigh, *"It's going to be a long day."*
The lighthouse creaks and groans from years of neglect, John has done what he can to restore the relic to it's former glory, to no avail. As he enters the building, the first drops of the incoming storm front begin, The *tap* of the water droplets against the stark white and red tower, in conjunction with the *plinks* of a dozen leaks, create a symphony of despair as the melody of nature runs it's course. Stopping just before the start of the staircase, John shifts his gaze up, as chains rattle against the green metal, the sound adding another layer to the masterpiece. John lets out another sigh as he scans the base of the tower, taking a quick inventory before grabbing ahold of the loose railing as he begins his journey up. Nearing the middle of the tower a slight breeze slips it's way through his hair, causing him to inspect the inner walls where he quickly identifies yet another crack in the armor of his home. *"That will have to wait for another day. Neverending problems this place."* Continuing on, nearing the top section of the lighthouse, he pauses for a moment at the door that marks his living quarters, a country song wafts through the closed door and he lets out a chuckle at the irony as he recognizes the sounds of Garth Brooks from the small black box within the room.
Continuing onwards to the the pinnacle of the tower, he slides open the reinforced steel door, blasting himself with a fresh wave of salty air. He breathes deeply, reminiscent of the day he was posted to this god-forgotten tower. It had been a brighter day then today, darkened only by his surroundings. He sat next to man in a fancy suit, vaguely aware of the men reading his charges.
"You're client, Mr. Clark, has been found guilty by right of admittance. I believe an agreement on sentencing has been reached?"
"Yes, your Honor, at this time we have requested that my client be reposted to a domestic assignment of the prosecutions choosing for a period of 5years, during this time the client will liaison via satellite with a registered military psychiatrist on a semi-weekly basis, for anger management, substance abuse rehabilitation, and for treatment of PTSD. At the time of release from those duties, we request that my client be reinstated into active service."
"Ms Harlow, does this satisfy the prosecution's agenda?"
"Yes, your Honor, we have also located a suitable assignment for Lieutenant Commander Abbott. In addition we also request a reduction in rank from Lieutenant Commander to Lieutenant."
"Very well, Lieutenant Commander Abbott, you are hereby sentenced, you will ship out to your new posting at 0600 hours. Court is adjourned."
That was 4 years, 5months, and 6 days ago, and he had been there ever since. John walked towards the ledge in front of him lighting a cigarette before leaning against the railing. He takes a drag and stares out over the ledge at the churning waters, lost in the bright flashes of lightning striking the sea, briefly illuminating the depths in a contrast of destruction. If he hadn't seen this before he would have certainly felt starstruck watching as the ocean battled itself, a myriad of black and white within the storm.
"You know what they say Lieutenant, if you stare into the abyss long enough it'll stare back."
John's thoughts are interrupted as he looks over his shoulder to a chair in the corner, where a young private sits, whittling a piece of driftwood. "And what would you know about the abyss, Private? you're barely wet behind the ears yourself."
"Well that depends on where you stand doesn't it?" The private chuckled, satisfied by his retort.
John mumbled a directed insult towards the private as he went back to scanning the horizon, distracting himself by counting the time between the claps of thunder. Each *crack-boom* becoming louder than the last, increasing in frequency as the sky became more and more luminous with what could only be described as God's vengeance against the sea's defiance.
"That's a fierce storm out there, eh Lieutenant?"
"Yeah, I'm just glad that it's mostly out there. I don't reckon I've seen a storm that bad in years. It's almost like the water is fighting back against the sky."
Private Whellen was now leaning against the railing with John, having stowed his knife and lighting a cigarette of his own. He was much younger than John, having only served under him for a year, assigned right out of basic training, he was there to make sure John didn't go insane while under isolation. The last Private to be assigned to him had slipped into the waters one particularly stormy night, swept away and never recovered. Whellen, at the least, was smart enough not to get too close to the edge, and spent most days combing the grounds for driftwood to carve into little statues to, as he put it, "Spruce up the place, and make it feel more homely."
"It is quite pretty I must say, imagine sailing through that, I bet you that ship is having a grand old time being tossed about!"
John glanced at the Private before quickly grabbing a pair of binoculars hanging off a hook above him. Scanning the horizon he quickly identified a man-made object of some sort bobbing viciously in the waves.
"Private, grab the telescope we need to identify that ship!" John rushed towards the communication radio in the back end of the top floor. Grabbing the receiver he turns back towards the ledge.
"Unidentified vessel, this is Lieutenant John Abbott of the United States Army, you are on a collision course with the coast and appear to be in distress, identify yourself or we will be forced to intercept. Over." The radio fills with static, deafening within the top of the lighthouse.
"Unidentified vessel, I repeat this is Lieutenant Jo-"
The radio flashes to life as John is interrupted.
"Yeah, yeah I heard you the first time, Lieutenant, this is the USS Albacore, our navigation systems are a bit messed up out here, can you tell us how we got so close to American soil?"
Stopping here for now but this is definitely one of my better stories, I've thoroughly enjoyed writing this piece and if anyone would like to see more on this story then leave a comment below! Also feel free to head on over to r/sadornawrites for more stories!!!
|
01022020 1715 ZULU TOPSECRET
ACTION MESSAGE: TOPSECRETxxxxxxATTN:COMCINCPAC/COMCINCLANT,
COMNAVAIRPAC/COMNAVAIRLANT, COMSUBPAC/COMSUBLANT
FROM:Commander CVN-70 USS CARLVINSON
SUB: UNKNOWN MILITARY ACTION IN MALLACA STRAITS
At1320Zulu CIC reports distress call by Japanese oiltanker Kobiashi Maru, ship pilot declares emergency after being fired upon by unknown submarine vessel, they report two direct hits amid ships by ships deck gun and taking on water, reports of several fires on going, A/C launch alert thirty and ASW /SAR , over flight has real time video and broadcast to up link, rescue operations began immediately, CAP in place, ASW reports several contacts but none near the distressed vessel, beginning environmental containment operations with various international responders, CAG CVW14 in charge of coordination until relief, witnesses report that a WWII era submarine surfaced and opened fire with its deck gun, witnesses report men in American uniforms manning gun, they fired without warning and then submerged, satellite images show vessel diving then disappearing, ASW reports no trace or track, set conditions Zebra and set general quarters, USS ALBANY, USS ALEXANDRIA conducting ASW operations as well as CVW14 , will update at 2000Zulu.
END MESSAGE XXXXXXTOPSECRETXXXXXX.
The Admiral received the recent coms with some deep concern, any military actions in this region had global impact, PLA Navy was conducting active combat patrols and interdiction creating tension in an already tense region, several incidents of "bumping" have occurred, one nearly fatal, with a group of a dozen sailors on both sides seriously injured, he had established a direct line of communication with his counterpart to quickly resolve disputes or issues, it paid off, instead of a shooting incident he managed to turn it into a story of superpower cooperation while saving face for the PLA, a neat trick if, IF you can pull it off, and now, God know's what the hell is going on, there have been bizarre sightings of submarines off the coasts of Indonesia, Solomon's and North Carolina, ships appearing then diving , and now, an attack, ASW operations have started be a concern for the Russians and the Chinese because of the intensity and locations.
Early morning in the sea of Japan, the sun raising in the east creating the rising sun image of the Japanese flag, bright red almost blinding, the south Korean fisherman had been busy for hours tending nets and equipment when they heard the rumbling of a diesel engine, except....this one sounded different....coming out of the dawn light the con tower of a submarine becomes visible, at first it looked ....new...then, with a blink, it looked old , decayed and rusty and then new again and then it comes into full view along side their small boat, it looked like a sunken relic above water, and then the rotting smell and the vague sound of commands, faintly then with more urgency "DIVE! DIVE! DIVE! They stood there stunned as they watched through holes in the hull men running and closing hatches, one second real and solid then becoming skeletal and ghost like, the whole scene reminiscent of a film flickering on a movie screen.
The Harbor master was drinking his coffee when a weird radio call came through, unknown, unscheduled arrival, a submarine has entered the channel, "get me Pearl" he says to his assistant, yeah Jack, what's this sub coming into the channel? Is it an emergency?, what do you mean what am I talking about? I'm talking about an unscheduled military movement in an active harbor, yeah it's a freaking sub! He looks at his assistant "Call DHS and Coast Guard, get a helicopter and a boat on scene and intercept, close the harbor and contact local police!"
The Coasties pulled along side and boarded the vessel, it had extensive damage, gaping holes in the deck, the helicopter over head made a deafening sound, the boarding party worked their way up the damaged con tower, the hatch was open, the smell of rot and decay nearly overpowering the sailors as they decend into the vessel, daylight clearly showing through the hull, the engine was idling, the smell of old water and oil mixed with diesel permeated the air, parts of the sub looked "new" brass polished while whole sections were gone or rusted away, "hey chief! Look at this! The petty officer lifted up a coffee cup......half full and still warm..WTF! the chief picks up the cup, smells it, feels the heat in the still warm cup, "Ok, goto the engine room an secure it, then come back, we're getting the fuck off this thing!"
The wreck was placed under tow and hauled to port, Coasties on deck were amazed the vessel stayed above water, several hull breeches somehow failed to flood, almost magically, many seasoned Mariners became instantly superstitious, clutching charms and crosses and repeating ancient spells to ward off evil.
It has been 2 days since USS Argos came to port, scientists and technicians were crawling all over the vessel looking for answers, the only thing solid was the discovery of dead crew members at various action stations, some showed signs of horrific deaths and dismemberment, explosions and fires the most likely cause, others seemed at ease, nearly undisturbed until their bones were discovered in situ, finally, a body was discovered that they hoped could give some answers, "The Chief of the Boat" was an enlisted man given command because of a lack of qualified officers, his body was mostly intact and there was still bits of uniform clinging to his bones, a review of the records reveal that the Argos was lost in '43 while on combat patrol.
After a week rumors of other subs coming to port on the east and west coasts began filtering through the ranks, with some crew and staff reports of seeing "The Chief" on the topside deck watching the workers coming and going.
I met the Chief while standing a deck watch on board the Argos, I had just got my "Crow", I was so proud , 3rd class petty officer and hand picked to watch over this weird shit show, I didn't give it any thought, with ALL the weird shit going in the world what's a ghost ship compared to WWIII, the weather was mild, the usual for Pearl, constant 78° with a light breeze, my mind was wandering, mid watch will do that to you when I began to smell a heavy body odor, tobacco and sweat, then I felt a presence, I turned around and.....there he was, a short, stout looking man wearing a khaki uniform and master chiefs anchors, his cap was crushed, and stained with sweat, he had a large bulbous nose that reminded me of WC Fields and bright blue eyes peering out, hawk like and predatory, he exclaimed "Report!" I snapped to and began to report and then I stopped...realizing I was talking to a ghost, I finally got the words out.....are you.....dead? "What the fuck do you think !" If I'm not dead then this has been one shitty deployment! So I begin asking him why they came back, "We came back because of the recall orders, Judgment day, Armageddon is coming and the end is here."
| 2020-09-10T13:44:56 | 2020-09-10T13:30:22 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] An exorcist arrives at your door, and says "I'm here to remove the demon." Confused, you say you didn't call for an exorcist, then suddenly a demonic voice says "I did."
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Things have been pretty weird lately. Last night my fridge magnets got magically rearranged to spell out L-O-S-E-R. This morning, after making a pot of coffee, the whole thing froze over, becoming colder than my ex. My cat’s been waking me up more often as well, swatting my face in my sleep, sometimes hissing in my ear. Maybe it has something to do with the new insomnia medication that I got over the counter at the local corner store.
But the weirdest thing was this afternoon.
There was a knock on the door. I didn’t hear it at first, as I was plugged into my work station listening to disco trying to use the not so fresh ‘fresh tracks’ to get me pumped up for yet another pointless spreadsheet presentation my boss wanted. The knock came louder, the realization that it was not apart of the drum ensemble of Boogie Wonderland made me yank out my earbuds.
Unsticking myself from my leather desk chair, I went to check the peephole. Some kind of priest stood in the hallway, his black suit pressed and boxy, holding a book and cross in one hand, and using the other hand to put the rapture on my door. By the look of it, he wasn’t going to do away.
Sighing and undoing the bolt, I opened the door.
“I’m sorry I’m not inter—”
“I’m here to remove the demon.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Someone called about a demon. Said it was urgent.”
“I didn’t call, you probably got the wrong apartment,” I said.
Then a fissure rippled through the air and a deep, grumbling voice said, “I did.”
If I hadn't just used the restroom, I might have peed my pants.
The priest reached into his pocket and, faster than anything I’d seen, flicked open a flack and flung water straight at the rippling presences. “Begone foul demon!”
“Hey!” The demonic voice trembled. “I’m the one who called you! Take it easy!”
“Why would a demon call for an exorcist?” I asked. Once the shock began to wear off, it kind of explained everything that had been happening in my apartment.
The priest held his cross and rosary, muttering under his breath. I wasn’t getting an answer from him.
“Well?” I turned to face the rippling essence of air beside me.
“Look, it’s not personal, you’re just…” the demonic voice trailed off. “I thought it would be fun, you know, Netflix and chill, grocery shopping, reality TV. That human shit. But fuck me are you boring. I mean who gets groceries delivered? When was the last time you talked to a girl? And what the fuck was that movie? Cats? I mean how could you sit through that shit, man? Christ, if I wasn’t already dead I swear after watching that I'd have killed myself.”
“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Really, nothing personal,” said the simmering void. “Hey, I think he’s nearly done.”
“…t*hrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.*”
There was a flash, a crack of lighting bursting through the apartment. When my eyes stopped being a kaleidoscope, the demon was gone, and the fridge now read BYE IDIOT.
“So that’ll be three-fifty.”
“What?” I said.
The priest pulled out his phone and what looked to be a small black box. “We accept all major credit cards.”
“Is this… real?”
“Visa, Master, AmericanExpress,” the priest continued. "I think Discover but I'm not sure. Actually, could you Venmo me?"
|
I was eating chips on my couch, watching a movie I'd enjoyed a lot a few years ago. A short knock came at my door, and reluctantly, I rose from the comfortable cushions.
A man was at my door, black hair combed neatly, holding a large bag in his hand. Once he'd noticed I'd opened the door, a smile broke out across his face.
“Uh, I'm here to remove the demon, Ma'am. Are you Selena?”
“Yes, I am,” I said suspiciously, “but who are you?”
“Oh,” he said, “I'm the exorcist you called, Ma'am.”
“What?” I asked, surprised. “I didn't call for an exorcist.”
“I did,” a voice, unlike anything I've ever heard comes from behind me. It's ruff and it sounds dark, the voice distorting when it speaks.
“Oh,” the exorcist, I look at his name tag, Adam, says. “It speaks.”
“Apparently it does,” I say, stepping out of my house, uncertain of what exactly said that.
“I think you may have a self-aware demon living in your home,” Adam speaks after a moment.
“Do they...” I swallow. “Do they regularly speak?”
“No,” Adam says, “which makes this demon more intelligent than others, in a way.”
“In a way?” I question, curious despite myself.
“Yes,” Adam says, “demons aren't usually able to communicate with humans, let alone know where they've been haunting.”
“That's wonderful,” I say sarcastically. “So this demon, or whatever it is, knows who I am? What I do in my free time? When I eat dinner?”
“Yes,” Adam nods, looking sympathetically at me. “At least this one wants to leave as soon as possible, right?”
His clumsy atempt at reassurance doesn't necessarily work on me, but I give him a weak smile nonetheless.
“And 'it' is right here, can we just get it over with already?” The same terrifying voice speaks, and I startle. Adam, however, doesn't look fazed in the slightest.
“I'm sorry,” Adam says, “I just came to see the issue, work out what I can do for you, that type of thing. I can't work on you today, but we can make an appointment for tomorrow, if you'd like.”
“Oh please,” I practically beg, “please please come back.”
“I'm not gonna kill you in your sleep,” the terrifying voice says, “or else I'd go back to hell.”
“And... you don't want to go back to hell?” I say tentatively.
“Oh, definitely not,” the demon says. “I hated it down there!”
“Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow at 1 PM. See you tomorrow!”
The next day, I anxiously wait for Adam to arrive. He does, bringing along an even bigger bag than before.
“Okay, um, demon, what's your name?”
“Aden,” the demon mutters solemnly.
“Okay, Aden, I want you to stay completely still and I can complete the ritual. I promise you this won't send you to hell, just somewhere where there's not as many people living there. Does that sound good to you?”
“Yes,” Aden says, “I'd be so crateful.”
Adam had asked me after that to exit the room, and I did. I heard chanting, and a few things being moved around.
About an hour later, Adam exited the room he'd been working in, tired.
“Well?” I ask, rising from my previously relaxed position on my couch.
“Well,” he says, “it went well. If you have any other issues, feel free to call me.”
I bid him goodbye, and continue to live in my house, demon free.
| 2020-09-28T12:35:22 | 2020-09-28T12:06:42 | 647 | 19 |
[WP]As the cop put the handcuffs on he asked in a panicked voice, "Why are you letting me do this?"
|
"Why are you letting me do this?" He asked.
The bodies were all around, misshaped and painted in crimson. Some lay atop of each other, their entrails intertwined in an indistinguishable pile of viscera. Men. Women. Officers. Medics.
People. They had all been people.
The handcuff closed around my wrists, and the officer behind me exhaled. He felt safer now, though I could not say why. The handcuffs would not restrain me, surely he most know that given what had transpired. But he had no other tools at his disposal, and there was no benefit to pointing out the obvious if he did not see it. I only wished none of this were necessary. That I had not been sent. That this place did not require Cleansing.
"Because it does not matter," I replied. It did not. The Scent would find me regardless of location within this place. One was as good as another.
"It doesn't matter?" His voice raised. "All of these people? It doesn't matter?" He was screaming now. "What the hell are you talking about? Why? Why would you do this?"
"It was required." There was little use explaining the Scent to him. He would not understand it. He could not see the taint as I did. Could not sense the touch of the Beyond and the foul mark it left upon those who encountered it. This realm, this place, was new to discord. This was the beginning of devastation, not the end. Now that the Beyond saw them, it would not forget. The war of attrition had begun, and this realm, as the others, would eventually lose.
I was simply here to stall. To make the cost of victory incrementally higher. To push back the Beyond for as long as it could be sustained before this realm unraveled as the others.
"Required? By who? Are you some sort of terrorist or something? Is that why you're dressed like that?" The officer was more assertive now. A firm hand on my back directing me through the scene of the slaughter and toward an exit.
"I am here to help," I said, though I knew the answer would not be accepted. This place had not seen the Beyond yet. They did not have an adequate frame of reference. They lacked context and so would resist accepting the truth of their fate.
I had been like them once. Long ago, and many realms past. Denial had been a salve to my soul once, just as it would be for this officer here and now. Let him think the world made sense for a while longer, let him pretend that I am the problem and not something that exceeded his ability to control.
One could not handcuff the Beyond. One could not chain chaos.
"Help? You sure as hell got a strange way of--" He cut off and gave me a hard shove. "You know what? I don't give a shit. I don't know how you've done what you did, and it doesn't matter. You're going into the hole. Better than you deserve. You're lucky I'm out of bullets."
The officer conveniently omitted that he lacked bullets because he had already fired them upon me. That his weapon, like his handcuffs, provided him no agency over me or my actions. The badge granted him the imprimatur of authority. The gun gave him the agency to exercise it. The psychology of a fractured youth the willingness and desire to make use of that agency.
But the badge, gun and mentality were of no help to him here and now. For all of the strength they had provided to him in the past, he was no longer applying force to a lesser force. He was a whisper in the wind, lost and carried away before it could impact its surroundings.
I let him guide me, his words having little impact. My mind was already elsewhere, plumbing the depths of the layer between this realm and the others. Trying to sense if the infection had already spread along other paths. When a breach occurred, it was rare for it to be in a single place. The Beyond's hunger was too great for small bites. It preferred to feast.
Ah.
There it was.
My nostrils flared, and I breathed deep.
I could smell it now. Distant within this realm, but present.
The Scent.
My eyes opened.
I flexed.
The cuffs fell away.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR Peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
|
##How to Get a Snitch
I stand in the middle of the street waiting for the cop car to pull up. I throw down my gun and hold up my hand. The cop gets out of the car, and I look at him and smile. The cop stops and runs back to the car. He calls for back-up. I wait a few more minutes while they stand there watching me.
After a few minutes, three more cars pull up. The cop that got out before steps out of the vehicle and walks towards me trying to project confidence. Every stride is long and deliberate. His chest is puffed. It is all quite macho and fake. I turn around and let him put the cuffs on me.
As the cop puts the handcuffs on, he asks in a panicked voice, "Why are you letting me do this?"
"I was bored," I reply. I think I smell a bit of an accident on his end, and I laugh. My reputation comes in handy in multiple ways. He slowly walks me to the vehicle and puts me in the confined seat. His partner is shaking in the seat in front of me.
"Boo," I say. The cop jumps. It is no wonder crime is so high in this city. The other cop gets in the car, and we start to drive off.
"Can you put on some music," I say.
"No," the driver says.
"Which station," the passenger cop quickly turns on the radio. The two of them lock eyes.
"I am feeling in a bit of an easy listening mood today," I say. The passenger turns the radio, and the chill sounds fill the car. I sway to the rhythm in the backseat. The passenger watches me sway. When we get to the station, I open up the door, "Alright, this is my stop."
The cops both jump back when they see that I am out of my cuffs. I turn around, "Don't follow me if you know what is good for you."
I walk up to the front desk, and the cop on duty freezes at the sight of me.
"I won't make a scene. Tell me where the Lion gang snitch is. I have been contracted to take him out," I command.
"I can't do that," his voice quivers.
"Yes you can, or else, I will do it. And you won't stop me." I say. The receptionist quickly starts bringing up the file.
"Interrogation Room 3," he says.
"And how do I get there?" I ask.
"It is in the basement right past the elevator. And the elevator is that way," he points past a row of cop desks to the elevator. When he looks away, I snag his gun.
"Thank you," I say. I start to walk to the elevator, and everyone stays in their seats out of fear. When I reach the elevator. Everyone clears out, leaving me all alone. When I get out of the elevator, I find six people pointing their guns at me.
"Come on. You don't want to do this," I say. They stand still, "Alright, I planned on killing a few guards."
I snap my fingers and turn the lights off. A few guards start to fire into the darkness, but they won't find my body. I am already behind them. I take six shots in the dark that all connect. I snap my fingers again, and the lights turn on.
I open the door to the interrogation room. The snitch is cowering in a corner.
"Alright, let's make this quick. How much did you tell them?" I ask.
"It is in that file," he points to a file on the table. I smile.
"Well, you made job easier." I quickly shoot him too. I walk out of the room and to the elevator. I press my ear to the door. A team is assembling on the main floor. Another team is coming down the stairs. I snap my fingers again and turn off the lights.
The team on the stairs has night vision to deal with me, but I move too quick for them to react. Instead of going to the lobby, I go to the roof where no one is waiting for me. I jump across the buildings until I am a few blocks away. Then, I climb down the balconies of an apartment building.
My client is waiting for me in their club. I bring them the file.
"Was it difficult?" she asks.
"Nope, it was quite easy," I reply. She hands me my payment.
"You did it so quickly. You are worth the money," she says.
"I pride myself on being good at my job," I reply.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
| 2020-12-18T17:54:49 | 2020-12-18T17:39:28 | 56 | 14 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire.
|
Smoke fills the air around me, flames rippling off of my clothes. These ropes are tight against my wrists, and this pier is hard against my back. Below, the people of the city shout insults at me, their fists raised high to the air.
I am burning alive. I am not afraid.
Men are so quick to hate what they do not understand. That hatred was what killed my mother. I cannot remember her, cannot grieve her, but I can remember what her death did to my father. He, too, learned to hate, and from that hatred arose a blind, vicious anger. He slaughtered thousands: men, women, children. And so he became the tyrant from their stories, the monster they spoke of our kind being.
Before he died, I saw but one thing in his glazy, blood-stained eyes: regret.
That was the day I vowed to be different than him; better. I used my family's gift to transform into one of their kind, and followed the soldiers back to their city. I never planned to use my true form again. I would not hate the race of Men. I would forgive them.
I was a fool. For it is not just our kind that the humans hate; they hate even among themselves, or perhaps among themselves most of all. I have seen men who hate their wives and daughters, and raise their sons to be the same way. I faced discrimination throughout all my years living among humans, purely because I took a female form rather than a male one.
And it would have been so much worse, had I not chosen a form with light skin. I stand against this pier today because I used magic to save a dark-skinned woman's life. But I know that it was not the magic that drove them to kill me.
As the flames rise to my head, I realize that I can understand my father. I cannot condone him, and I will never be like him, but I can understand him. For I, too, am angry - but this anger will not blind me. In fact, It has opened my eyes.
From this day forward I will protect all those who the humans hate: beast or fellow man. I will not be indiscriminate like my father, wiping out entire towns. I will bring harm only to those who bring harm to others, and in doing so, no matter how many humans try to call me a tyrant, there will always be those among them who see me for who I really am: a guardian.
The flames do not, cannot burn me. Among the many things about my race that humans are unaware of, our immunity to fire is perhaps the most prominent. As I begin to transform, I almost feel as if my body absorbs the flames around me, as if they become a part of my soul.
I grow larger, looming over the increasingly scared cityfolk. My skin breaks out in scales. My neck lengthens. My teeth become fangs, my ears become horns.
In the final stages of my transformation, I look towards the sky and - for the first time in a very, very long time - unleash a legion of flame towards the heavens in a liberating roar.
Fire cannot burn a dragon. But it can make one stronger.
I spread my wings and take to the skies.
|
"Ava Dauphin" the priest shouted to me as the pyre started to burn. "You still have time to renounce the devil. Repent all your sins and you will be saved"
The warmth... Oh did I miss it so much? It was really a mistake to think that they would accept me... I have left my riches and my safe home to congregate with them but to what price...
"REPENT! REPENT! REPENT!" The crowd shouted as the fire reached my bounded feet and burnt the long dress that I was wearing.
I kept myself silent, anticipating for the fire to enfold me. Once it reached my core, my true form will come back in shape and I will break lose. If only they would be there in the crowd to see the real me...
"Ava Dauphin, the Lord will have mercy on your soul if you repent! Denounce in vain the devil. Return yourself to our Lord's good graces" the priest shouted again.
The black smoke surrounded me. The heavy armed men started to move forward making the gathering to move back to avoid the smell and the flames to reach them.
The church bells rang. That was odd. It was to early... Someone was in the church. The priest panicked and told the high ranking of the armed men to send him a man to the church. It should be empty. Those bells don't ring unless the priest opens the tower and he had the key in his robes.
The flames are slowly reaching my core and I can feel it. The metamorphosis will not be stopped now. I smiled wide as the heat of the fire made my human form melt away and the screams of horror started as soon my scaled body emerged from the fire.
I opened my eyes, my real eyes, and watched the priest fall backwards and hold his crucifix to his chest before soiling himself up.
The armed men pushed back the crowd that tried to rush away after seeing my true self. All of them running away from me. From the monstrous me. Everyone except them.
Their eyes. Those bewitching blue eyes. Their hands trembled as holding the sword. All those years ago. All the happiness that we had. Tears streaming down my face as I have accepted my fate.
Release me from this sweet bitter life of mine. My dearest.
They stopped trembling and run their sword through my heart. Now they will be the eternal king and our children will be the princes that this land deserve.
"Ava" they wispered "Ava, I love you".
"Me too" said back as I felt my last breathes rushing out my lungs. "Be a good king. I will wait for you"
Rain fall making the fire to extinguish and they rose to their feet with my heated dragon heart. They were crowned king and had a long life.
People eventually went back to their routine and told the story of me and they. They were praised and I wasn't. I couldn't blame them. The king had a long life and the children eventually took over them in the throne and in their lives.
They died with my heated heart close to theirs. The priest told our story, not with me as the bad one, but with me as the one that showed the real king as they were in life.
They were buried and later made Saint. We reunited after death.
They.
Me.
Us.
| 2021-01-03T07:06:34 | 2021-01-03T06:44:28 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] After slaying the foul dragon the king offered the knight the hand of his daughter in marriage. Neither of them were happy with this arrangement, the princess being completely disinterested in this stranger and the knight was expecting something like money or a title for risking his life
|
"For your bravery, Sir Isaac, and your heroic slaying of the terrifying and murderous dragon scourge, I offer to you the hand of my daughter, Princess Anna!" The King dramatically pointed behind him, letting his cape fan out to reveal a beautiful blonde woman, dressed demurely in a simple, yet opulent blue dress.
Anna, seated next to her mother in the throne room, gasped.
"One must always keep her poise," her mother warned calmly. Sticking to her own advice, the Queen looked calm and inscrutable.
Down on the floor, Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Does Her Highness wish it to be so? Far be it from me to take the hand of a lady who wishes to marry another. I would gladly accept gold, jewels, land, or a title of nobility--"
"Approach the throne, brave sir knight!"
As Sir Isaac approached the throne, the crowd went wild.
The King dropped his ceremonial tone and spoke softly. "Listen. Your kingdom and mine need to make an alliance and this is the way to do it. Anna knows she's here to get married off; as the heir apparent, she's an alliance waiting to happen. Eventually, you could be King. How's that for a title?"
Meanwhile, Anna and the Queen spoke in the same hushed tones.
"Please, Mother. I don't want to marry a stranger!"
The Queen seemed unmoved. "We've discussed this. This is a working kingdom, not a fairy tale. We need an alliance with Isaac's King. I was part of an arranged marriage as well. All you need to do is keep the peace and produce a couple heirs."
"Gross!"
"Shush!" The Queen managed to keep a straight face, but Anna knew that if she objected, she'd be in huge trouble behind closed doors.
The King, once again projecting to the audience, spoke. "The betrothed couple will now share their first dance!"
Anna and Isaac walked awkwardly down to the floor, keeping their distance from one another.
Isaac bowed deeply.
Anna curtsied and took his hand. It was rough, but he was gentle with it.
Isaac led her through a waltz, taking her for a spin around the dance floor before starting to talk.
"Your Highness, your parents seem insistent on using us to form an alliance."
"When I'm Queen, we'll use treaties."
Isaac spun Anna around.
He spoke again. "If you could marry anyone in this world, who would you marry?"
"Oh, that's easy. My lady-in-waiting, Lia. Probably be drawn and quartered if I even suggested it, though. You?"
"Sir Daniel of the Knights of the Golden Hawk. We're alike in one way, at least."
Anna, for the first time since setting eyes on Isaac, smiled. "You ever wonder why a foreign knight slayed our dragon? We have no standing army, no knights to protect the castle. Our security force is territorial farmers and young men willing to fight. We're a peaceful kingdom in need of a little organized security. If you'd like to recruit and lead an order of knights, I can arrange that. If you'd rather, you can bring your Sir Daniel here to lead an order himself."
"This suddenly sounds like a good idea." Isaac chuckled. "Are you sure you're okay with it?"
Anna sighed. "As a princess and heir apparent to the throne, I'm here to make alliances. Might as well make one that works out well for both of us."
Princess Anna and Sir Isaac waltzed around the dance floor, whispering to each other and smiling. The King and Queen, and the members of the Court gathered to celebrate the dragon's execution, thought they were witnessing the beginning of a beautiful love story.
|
Elbert knelt before the king in his shining armor — he had painstakingly polished it after defeating the dragon as to make a good first impression with the king. He had also practiced kneeling in the traditional pose of the knight, even though he wasn't one. Well, not technically. Elbert wanted to be a knight more than anything in the world, and he was practically salivating at the near certainty of his promotion.
*Proper*, he reminded himself. *Do NOT drool in front of the king.* Still, he couldn't help but roll his new title over his tongue as the king droned on and on. *Sir Elbert,* he thought in a dignified tone. *SIR Elbert.*
"And for his valiant rescue of the Princess Liluta," said the king in his booming voice. *Yes,* thought Elbert, *I can finally be a knight*. Then, worrying that his anticipation was going to leak onto his face, he stopped. *Proper,* he reminded himself. *If you're going to be a knight, you have to be proper*.
"he will gain her hand in marriage." Both Elbert and Liluta blanched. "Father!" she cried at the same time he shouted "What!" then hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth. The king stood up and raised an eyebrow, looking down at Elbert. "Do you have a problem with this?" he asked.
It wasn't really a question, and Elbert knew it. But still, he *did* have a problem with it. A very, very large problem. "Uh, yes actually, Your Majesty," he stuttered. The king frowned down at him. "And what problem is that?" he asked quietly. Elbert gulped. "Um... I'm already married?" he squeaked. "And not in love with the princess at all, but very much in love with my current wife, and, um..." he stopped, shooting a glance at the king nervously.
The king frowned down at him, and just when Elbert thought he was going to lose his head, the princess interrupted. "Also, *Father*, I don't know if you remember, but I'm engaged to the ambassador from Worthen," she held up her hand, counting on her fingers. "*1,* your stupid political alliance, and *2*, I'm actually in love with Gerald."
The king looked at her nervously, "Uh, that alliance fell apart while you were, you know, kidnapped. So..." Liluta looked *furious*. "So," she interrupted, "I'll repair it by marrying him." The king looked even more nervous than before. "We're... actually at war." "Father!" snapped the princess.
"You'll marry this valiant knight! Who saved you! A perfect pairing!" Well, at least Elbert's biggest failing could get him out of this. "Um, I'm not actually a knight," he said. "So, uh, I'll just be going now." He got up and began backing towards the doorway. "Back to my *wife,* who I have *2 children* with."
As soon as he was out of the room, Elbert broke into a run. Liluta, however, stayed in the room. As soon as she could no longer hear his clanking armor, she turned on her father. "I cannot believe you declared war on my love's kingdom!" she snapped, jabbing an accusing finger closer to the king's chest with each word. "Uh..." said the king, unable to deny the accusation.
Liluta threw her hands into the air. "That's it. I'm eloping." She turned to leave the room. "With Elbert?" the king called hopefully after her. "*Father!*" she snarled back at him, already planning her journey West, and fervently hoping another dragon didn't kidnap her on the way there.
r/StoriesOfAshes for more of my stuff
| 2021-01-11T08:53:04 | 2021-01-11T08:24:06 | 57 | 39 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see.
|
**Day 1**
We landed on Thamia this morning. It may be the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen. The local flora is spectacular. The idea that we are the first travelers to this planet both excites me and leaves me in awe. It is like an Eden and The Family will be so relieved. Our prayers have been answered after so many years on our journey within the generational ship. We have only god to thank for this gift he has given us. We have stayed true to his word and his path and left our safety in his hands and he has rewarded us.
The land itself is tropical with some flowers as large as myself. We spent the day setting up a base camp and we plan to explore the environment tomorrow.
I have not been so excited since we left our home planet so many years ago.
**Day 2**
The planet is even more of a paradise than we had thought. The local wildlife is tame and doesn’t seem to be of any threat. There are grazing animals which eat heartily on the flora, so much so you would think they would have eaten up this flora within a few months. But the grazing animals’ population seems to be placed in check by something, as though there is an apex predator here, but we have not seen it. We have setup cameras to see if they are nocturnal or maybe just shy.
We have collected a local fruit similar to a watermelon and we’ve eaten it for dinner tonight. We all feel very lucky to have found this place. God is great.
**Day 5**
On one of our explorations today we have had one of our first mishaps. We found one of the large grazing animals completely entombed within the petals of one of the great flowering plants here. We watched another walk up to the flower and stand there and stare at it while the flower slowly reached down and pick it up and lift it in the air, wrapping it tight like plastic wrapping. After cutting open the petals we can see the flowers are slowly digesting the animals for nutrients.
Sheila was studying one of the great flowering plants and when her hand brushed up against the petals, the flower had released some sort of barbed spines that stuck to her skin and irritated her eyes and respiratory system. We left immediately and tended to her wounds.
**Day 8**
Sheila’s condition worsened each day. She began to have strange thoughts, one of them being she was certain her son was here on the planet, that she had seen him just the other day. Even after explaining over and over that her son was safe on the generation ship, she didn’t seem to understand or care. Late in the afternoon she began taking a walk, saying she needed some fresh air. I followed her and I watched as she stepped up to the flowering plant which sent the barbed spines on her. She just stared up at it for a long time.
I walked up and asked her if she was okay. She just smiled and said of course. And we walked back to the camp and she sat in the corner smiling, drinking a cup of soup. We woke up in the morning and she was gone. We followed her tracking chip immediately, but I already knew where she was.
She was wrapped completely in the flower which sent barbs into her. We cut her out, but she was dead. The skin of her beautiful face was already melted off from the digestive acid. As we worked to get her body out, my breath became ragged, and my eyes itched. The rest of the team began to cough, and I knew what was happening.
I looked around and saw the other flowering plants looming over us, as though they were staring hungrily. I called everyone back and we made our way to camp. It was a bad night for us, and we called to the generation ship for medical emergency evacuation. They said they would be here in three days.
**Day 10**
I’ve seen my wife walking through the stalks of the flowers. To see her here on this planet with me is a gift. I see her vermillion dress as it bleeds among the petals and my love for her is so immense, I would walk to the ends of this paradise with her. She whispers to me and I know the others cannot hear her. They don’t understand the gift I have been given. I know that I must follow her, that our journey here has just begun. I will be leaving with her tonight.
God is great.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
|
The forest was quiet. Almost silent.
No shuffle of leaf litter of small forager, no chirp or twitter of birds.
The forest was still. Almost peaceful.
No wind to sway the branches. No rustle in the knee high grass.
The forest was empty.
'Nope' said George 'We are not camping here.'
'You've said that about the last three clearings we've stopped at.' answered Sophie. ' It's nearly supper time. My knees hurt. This pack is heavy and this is a fine spot to camp.'
'Nope. Don't like it.' said George.
'You can _not like it_ all you want. I'm staying here.' Sophie slipped her pack off her back, grabbed her water bottle and sat on her pack.
'This is fine' said Julian, dumping his own pack next to Sophie. 'Unless you want to walk all yhe way back in the dark.'
'Ok. Ok fine' said George. 'You're right we won't find anywhere better before sunset.'
'Glad you agree'. Smirked Racheal entering the clearing last. 'A more important question is beer or campfire first?'
'Beer.'
'Beer'
' Tent'.
'Really?'
'Yes, Really.' said George, 'I don't want to sleep on rocks and twigs cause you wasted the last daylight on beer.'
'How about this' offered Sophie. ' Racheal and George clear and setup the tent. I'll unpack while Julian finds some rocks for a campfire pit?'
A short while later the single large tent was up, a small campfire was setup safety nearby with a metal grill supported by a couple of large rocks. A pot of water slowly rose to the boil over the fire.
'Do you think we have enough wood?' asked George looking at the neat pile Julian had made.
'Maybe, do you think we need more?' asked Racheal snipping her can.
'Well, I think we've still got an hour or so of light left if you wanted to help me get some more? ' suggested Julian, his mood much more relaxed after his third can that hour. 'Follow me. There's plenty more over near the shrubbery.'
' Shrubbery? There is a shrubbery out here?' George jumped to his feet, following Julian away from camp.
Sure enough only a few minutes walk away from the camp, nearer to the centre of the forest clearing was a shrubbery. Waist high, semi wild shrubbery planted in a rough circle. Dried branches and twigs lay around and under the thickly leafed plants.
'Weird' said George.
'A ittle bit, i guess' shrugged Julian. 'I reckon something bigger likes to use these for back scratching and keeps knocking all the dry stuff off'.
Julian and George quickly had an armful of firewood each. Julian wanted to head back and grab another beer. George stopped him, asking him to wait a moment.
George circled the shrubbery, about of a third around he spotted what he was looking for. On his hands and knees he pushed through a animal track into the shrubbery.
Emerging on the other side he froze in surprise and fear. After a moment to overcome his shock he grabbed a nearby object and shuffled backwards as quick as he dared.
'You ok? ' asked Julian as George approached.
'Fine, Fine. We should get back' muttered George scoping up his firewood bundle.
Back at campsite George quickly dropped his bundle onto the stack and started searching through his pack.
'Ah' he cried pulling out a long narrow canister. He jumped up and strode around the campfire, then the tent, then the whole campsite shaking the canister.
Finally, as the sunset faded, he sat down and opened a beer.
'What was that all about? ' asked Sophie sitting next to him and handing over a bowl of stew with a fork standing upright in the thick hot mixture.
'Oh just something I saw near the shrubbery' answered George.
'Oh Yeah?' called Julian from across the campfire. ' What did you fjnd?'
In answer George gently tossed the canister over.
Powdered Cayenne Pepper, Baking Soda, Salt, Dried Poison Ivy. read the hand written label.
'Old family recipe. Best fire ant repellent ever invented.' Called George.
Taking another mouthful of his beer he decided to not show them the wolf skull he'd found near the ant mound.
| 2021-01-25T08:53:37 | 2021-01-25T07:53:57 | 257 | 79 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see.
|
"That thing is massive. It's the size of a bloody ship, it's an apex predator, we need to get away from it."
"Owen, we're just here to observe, not fight it." She finished her drink and lowered the water bottle, answering nonchalantly. "Look, they're not attacking us, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"And what if it does attack us?" he asked indignantly. "We're defenceless."
"We're not supposed to kill them though? That's illegal."
"Which means they can kill us without consequence."
"With what? They don't have any teeth."
"Just look at that thing and say it couldn't."
"I guess they could," she replied. "but would they? We're not their prey."
"Not yet."
She sighed. "Whatever, get your suit on."
"I can't just go down there knowing that I might die."
"You're far more likely to die from... I don't know, an oxygen tank failure. You accepted this risk, coming along with us." She slipped on her goggles and stood up. "Look, just put on your suit, we're almost at the spot."
"We're going to be out there," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "Out there, away from the rest of humanity, surrounded by predators. With no weapons and nothing but our suit to protect us. Damn the laws, damn the mission, if you think this is safe you're crazy. We don't even know how it would kill us, and I don't want to find out. I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, I don't want to have to leave your body behind because we don't have a way to get it back-"
The captain thumped his fist on the wall. "Owen, I don't care if you stay on the ship, but for the love of god if you don't shut up about whales eating people, I'm going to throw you off the side to find out."
|
I looked at the creature and remembered my exoplanet survival teacher telling me "if you see something that has the outward traits of an apex predator, run. If you can see the ways it would kill you, avoid them. If you can't... Try not to find out."
It looked like a bear. A green bear. The "forest" around me filled with the strangest plants I'd seen. They were like trees, but instead of branches or leaves, just what seemed like blades of grass. "Focus on the creature" I thought. Camouflage was obvious... Forward facing eyes... Doesn't seem interested in eating any of the plant matter around it. Yep. That's a predator alright. Too risky to track myself.
I reach into my bag and pull out a small tripod. Camera, and a launching mechanism for a drone. Turn it on and connect it back to the ship.
Slowly and quietly, I make my way out of the area and back to the ship. I didn't expect to have my first deployment be a solo operation in a densely vegetated moon, but it's finally off of Earth. Once inside the ship, I loaded up the feed from the camera. Following this creature could teach me a lot from the safety of my ship.
The planet and the star eventually fell beneath the horizon, and the green bear still hadn't moved much. Were the eyes just some sort of illusion by what was actually a plant? I launched the drone to see if I could get some sort of reaction out of it. Flying right up to it's face.... And it just continued to look straight forward. Then I lost the camera feed from the drone.
Through the tripod's camera, I could see what was an unmistakable group of apex predators walking up to what remained of the drone. Front facing eyes, two legs and two arms. Yeah...last planet I was on, the animals that looked like this were the Apex predator of the whole planet. My thoughts and panic was interrupted when one of them yelled and pointed right at the camera.
| 2021-01-25T09:28:28 | 2021-01-25T08:14:34 | 138 | 59 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see.
|
''I don’t know where to start. We have been all over the solar system and we haven’t seen anything like this before. Volcanic activity on this planet was our only concern at first and we were here to collect samples and get back to the orbital station.''
I stop the recording and I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Then, I continue.
''It wasn’t my fault…At least that is what I think. We only had six crew members in total and two pilots who had a military background… They were to first to get killed because they underestimated the… creature.''
The turbulence distracts me for a moment.
''When we first discovered that thing it had similar features with deep see fish that we have on Earth and we were able to collect a fluid sample from that creature when we lost those two pilots. It only devoured some parts of the body and it didn’t digest the limbs. The test showed some similarities with tetrodotoxin which is a very dangerous neurotoxin but this sample also had unidentified marks that we couldn’t recognize.''
I start to cough blood.
''We were planning on emergency evacuation but we lost two pilots and the rest of the crew didn’t have any idea how to fly the ship. Someone from our crew named Oliver had experience in computing and AI tech and he tried to lift the lockdown on the ship's main system to activate the autopilot but he couldn’t finish his work in time and he died from a sudden heart attack. At least that was our initial suspicion.''
I inject myself with strong stimulants to keep me awake and alert.
''The next day we were stuck in the ship because that creature somehow blocked the ship's main door which didn’t make any sense. Why would any predator try to keep us in instead of breaching in and killing us all? Well, the same day a few remaining members of the crew started to show strange symptoms and then they became violent. I locked myself in the storage room and I have waited for hours and maybe even days. When I decided to unlock the door and open it very disturbing smell made me dizzy. Corpses were transforming into something very strange and I was the only one on the ship who was alive. I was able to finish Oliver's work and activate the autopilot but I thought I isolated myself from those corpses…''
I start to feel pressure on my chest.
''I’m sorry…''
|
Lee closed the hunting book and snorted. No beast could end him and his hunting party of twenty. Nothing that humans had encountered during their spaceward expansion had ever been able to challenge his mercenaries, and the monsters had varied wildly. So did the heads on his spaceship's wall. He did have a few close calls, but the only three that had ever managed to challenge him were the acid-spitting cows some illegal lab on Mars managed to cook up, and the Ragtors on Mars. Damnable clearskins. He'd lost a few men there, but the meatheads he called colleagues would sign on for the promise of just an acre or two of land on some new planet. Besides, even if they were all just cannon fodder, Lee was sure that he could shoot down anything within twenty seconds. If a rifle couldn't stop it, his high-power laser certainly would. Thing could cut through a spaceship hull. He learned that the hard way, although thankfully not while flying. Still expensive.
Sighing, the hunter stood up and glanced around at the mercenaries. Most of them were battle-hardened men with scars, but there were a few newbies who were visibly pale and shaking. One of them was Bartleby's son, Bittle. That entire family had stupid names, but they were good folk who would knock your teeth in if you made fun of them. Lee had been friends with Bartleby for a while, and agreed to let Bittle tag along to "toughen his hide." It was doubtful that the boy would step off the ship with how much his legs were shaking, though.
From the cabin, the autopilot informed Lee of the approaching planet. The rookies turned a shade of white usually only seen on those acid-spitting cows, and the veterans turned to him for a debriefing. "Alright, men," Lee announced, his voice a tenor. You wouldn't make fun of it if you wanted to keep your own manhood, though. The only way you could get away with it was if you didn't have a hose to begin with. "The Bean Baron wants us to clear off this planet for more plantations. No idea what we'll find, but if it moves feel free to shoot. As usual, don't shoot each other or we'll leave you here, and don't shoot the ship because we'll have to eat your corpse while we wait a week for a tow.
I'll be back, just wanted to take a break and scroll Reddit more
| 2021-01-25T07:47:01 | 2021-01-25T07:24:36 | 123 | 55 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see.
|
I was walking through a dense forest. At first glance, it looked normal, but closer up I could tell something was off. The leaves were too green, too bright, in odd shapes. The wood was too dark, and for some reason slightly blue. The grass was... soft. It was almost fuzzy.
This place clearly wasn't Earth. It was a planet the locals called... I still don't know how to say it.
I was noting all this in my mind, I was to write a report on what I found.
I was brought to the present by the sun flashing in my eyes. I looked down and saw a clearing ahead. I sped up a little and looked around in the clearing.
The forest ahead seemed denser, darker, and-- were those eyes? Perhaps I was seeing things, they were gone a moment later.
I looked down and saw a small creature in the clearing. I approached it cautiously.
It's body had an outward appearance of the tree's wood, but.. little, and vaguely humanoid. It was cute too.
It looked up at me with green eyes, and I noticed it... didn't seem to have a mouth. Perhaps it used photosynthesis.. but without any leaves? No, it had a single leaf on it's head, but that wouldn't be enough.
I greeted it with a hello, knowing in the back of my mind that even if it spoke, it wouldn't speak English.. or any other Earthly language.
It waved at me, and if it had a mouth, it would probably be smiling.
I looked at it closer, and it seemed to have many traits of a predator, but without claws or teeth..
Perhaps anatomy here was different.
Unless...
I shook my head, as if I could shake the thought out of my mind. This creature was probably some odd exception. It seemed very friendly!
It gestured for me to follow it, and walked toward the denser part of the forest.
I followed it. The sun only shown through some parts, casting a small design on the floor.
And then I saw the eyes again.
They were right in front of me, a slightly greenish yellow.
And then whatever owned them snarled.
I stumbled backwards then turned around and ran. I stopped in the clearing and turned around, hoping it was gone.
But it was standing there in the light.
It looked like the small wood creature, but it was instead a large feline. This one had a mouth, with large, sharp teeth. It pounced at me, hardly missing as I moved backward.
I looked around for the smaller creature. It was standing to the side, behind the wooden beast. It had no emotion in it's eyes. It stared at me, even when I looked away.
I turned around and ran, not looking back.
Something got the back of my leg. I just kept running.
I got back to the closest village and stopped to rest.
The beast was still chasing me, with the smaller one now on it's back.
The locals seemed awfully annoyed by this thing being here. Somebody threw it a large piece of raw meat, and it stopped chasing.
It sniffed it before tearing it in two with it's claws.
It gave the slightly smaller part to the smaller creature who...
Oh god, it was awful.
It unhinged an unseen jaw like a snake with no teeth and just... swallowed the thing whole.
I've been told by many people that I have amazing reflexes, and if I was slightly slower that thing would've killed me. The "average" person would probably have died by now.
The worst part?
Even after everything, the small creature still looked cute to me. I knew what it had tried to do, but there was something about it...
I wanted to see it again.
|
Much like Johnny Depp in the 2000s, the sky was overcast. Morose and grey, with just a hint of precipitation, behind which lurked a vague threat that could result in anything from a sudden deluge, to a violent storm of thunder, screaming winds, and flying debris. Like breaking up with your psycho ex all over again. Christ.
Jamie and I were the only ones who came to the funeral. Obviously the only ones to wait until they raised the headstone. It stood almost a meter tall above the grass: a slab of dark basalt, polished to a mirror sheen.
Despite the size, all it read was:
"J.
In loving memory."
I had no idea who had paid for it. It didn't look cheap.
Jamie was the first one to break the enduring silence.
"Friends for 35 years. Hard to imagine this is how it would end."
I could only nod in agreement. Hard to imagine, indeed.
"In a way, I'm more angry with myself. They were so caught up in it, they were blind to it. But me? Us? We were on the outside. We should have realised."
I lit a cigarette before answering. I didn't really smoke anymore. A slow and insidious killer. Didn't feel like it mattered much, now. Nor was the irony lost on me.
"Realised how? They were happy. There was nothing to suspect. Christ, they lived like this for years, Jamie! Decades! How could we possibly have seen it?"
Jamie crushed some dry leaves with an angry stomp, frustration oozing out of every pore.
"I don't know! Some way. Somehow! This just isn't right!"
I took a drag on the cigarette, feeling the delicious poison fill my lungs. It never gets you when you're looking. Always when you think you're safe.
Jamie huffed and stomped a bit more, before suddenly going still. Eyes once more locked on the black stone; anger spent, replaced by grief over a lost friend.
"Did you hear how they passed?"
Jamie's voice was muted, bereft of joy. Gone was the fire of our youth, replaced with nothing but weariness.
I took another drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"Yeah."
Hands in pockets, Jamie glared at the headstone. As if daring it to speak. The mirror polish stoically returned the glare.
"An expert in the field. 29 years of marriage. Two kids, seven grandkids. And then it all ends... like this?"
Another drag, another cloud of smoke, joining its brethren up above. The sky was still undecided on its commitment to the thunder doctrine.
Even to my own ears, my reply lacked conviction.
"To die in your sleep, loved, and happy, with a legacy that will endure? There are worse ways to go."
Jamie turned the glare on me, voice fuelled by a spark I could no longer muster.
"Bullshit! When I go, I want to see it coming. I want to look it straight in the eye, and spit in its face!"
"Yeah, well..."
I stubbed out the remaining ash on the back of my watch, pocketing the butt. As I threw a last glance at the stone, I momentarily locked gaze with my reflection. My eyes looked just as tired as I felt.
"I doubt we'll clock out the same way. Knowing us, when it happens, it'll be worse by far. And knowing us, we'll probably deserve it."
Jamie snorted, but without mirth or conviction.
"Wanna get out of here?"
The most welcome question I'd gotten all day.
"Yeah. Lets."
Like a politician turning their cape to the wind, the sky finally let loose an ominous rumble, followed by the first few drops of rain. And just like the politician's commitment, it was too little, and far too late.
God help us all.
| 2021-01-25T08:43:08 | 2021-01-25T08:39:48 | 75 | 25 |
[WP] Your door is kicked down(literally) as the hero enters and volunteers you for the quest to save the world, as the one designated in the ancient prophecy. Then your window is smashed in as the dark lord enters to volunteer you to destroy the world, in accordance with the ancient prophecy.
|
I let out a heavy sigh. This was the seventh time this month that these two had busted into my home breaking various things from vases to my TV and now I have glass shards in my cereal.
"Would you just leave me alone?" I say as I set my now glassy breakfast on the counter. At this point having both the personification of evil and the supposed greatest hero ever in my home had lost all sense of importance and even novelty. It was just a mundane annoyance like a scam call in the middle of work.
"I have no interest in either of your offers. I thought I made that crystal clear last time."
The dark lord as unsatisfied by my typical response as they always are repeats the same general thing as always.
"But haven't you always wanted *power*? I can grant you immeasurable quantities of power so that you may take vengeance against those who've wronged you!"
The hero, as always, pipes up in a furvinant objection. "No! Don't listen to them! All they want to do is use you like a pawn! They must be stopped before it is too late. Don't give in to their malicious offers!"
The guy was probably more hard headed than the onxy magician he was in opposition with.
"I haven't and I won't" I mutter as I sweep the glass shards into a dustpan. These two always go on and on for like 15-ish minutes before I can say anything.
"And frankly, I don't see why you two don't just fight eachother instead of making me do it."
Surprisingly there was no reply from either of them, unless you count near dead silence with the exception of my broom's brushing against the ground and the fragile tinks and clinks of the glass as I cleaned it all off the ground making sure not to cut up my bare feet. Eventually when I come back from throwing the glass away I find the two looking at me a bit differently.
"What?" I find myself asking for the first time with some amount of curiosity.
"You really don't want to be the chosen one?" The dark lord asked with a deeply perplexed expression across their stony face.
"That's a tired old archetype, why would I? I've already decided my own meaning in life I don't need anyone giving me a new one." I say with a simple shrug as I sip from my glass of milk.
"Plus Oracles don't make prophecies. They make ominous vague stories to push people into conflict."
The hero's once proud tall stance has sort of slumped down as he looks down at his very impractical weapon and then back at me. "But don't you want to be special? To help people?"
"I don't need to be “special” to be happy." I say plainly as I continue to sip my milk. "And I already do help people. I do volunteer work in poverty neighborhoods Monday through Wednesday."
They both sort of just look at eachother and silently agree to just leave. The hero politely apologizes for the trouble and promises to have my door and window fixed before he and the dark lord leave out the window.
Hopefully this is the last time. Please let it be the last time.
|
"Really now." I sit back down, a toast both of them. The beer in my hand was ice cold, and a cold trickle of sweat ran down the bottle. Grabbing the remote I turned it to the twins game. We were behind already, but that was nothing new.
I watched mostly for the tight um uniforms anyway. I just came in from the barn, chores were done, and I was waiting for the pizza in the oven to be done.
The 'dark lord' grabbed my arm, "you are coming with me."
"Bull pucky. The twins are on, and you mind your manners mister. You go and there's a broom and dust pan. Clean up the mess you made, I won't be telling you twice."
The hero's jaw dropped. "You are coming with me, the prophecy!"
"Oh horse feathers, in that same closet are tools and nails. You will be fixing the front door you just kicked down, don't talk back to me, you hear! Now hush, both of you, the twins are on, and if I have to grab a switch your behinds both will be blistered before the 3rd inning."
"You will..."
"Forget the switch", I took my belt off and thwacked the dark lord on the behind twice. Tears started to fill his eyes, and I pointed at the window. "You will be paying to fix that window mister dark lord, and wipe up all the mud you tracked on my floor.
I heard cheers, the twins hit a home run. Score!
"Now look what the both of you have done, I missed the play. Git to work on fixin' what you screwed up. How DARE you enter my home during a twins game!"
I glanced at the screen, white muscular... at bat... These two fools were ruining my game time, and subsequent hot flash.
The hero grabbed my remote, and I slammed his hand down with my belt. "Don't you dare, ever touch that remote boy. Now run to the fridge and grab me another beer. And get that pizza in here while you are at it."
During the replay, ooh boy, the twins were on fire, for the first time in years. Now ahead 10/7...
The dark lord finished his work and sat in the corner pouting now. I heard a sniffle. The hero looked up at me handing me the beer, he also put the napkins down and pizza on the table. "You take the other corner, you hear. I don't want to imagine a peep outta either of you hoodlums until this game is over."
Little did they know, it was a double header. My beer, and the cable with all the highlights of the game would outlast their nonsense.
Yes, I'm the 7th daughter of a 7th daughter. Yes, I was born under the North Star. Yes, I was conceived in the right place at the right time. However, their horse crap could wait until the game was played. I was a native Minnesotan don't ya know. Ya sure you betcha.
Besides, don't mess with a farm girl on a hot summer night. I glanced at the game again, such gorgeous men, at the peak of fitness... I lit a cigarrette, and turned up the volume.
| 2021-06-22T07:24:56 | 2021-06-22T04:43:23 | 181 | 90 |
[WP] As a little girl, you gained the ability to detect when some creepy guy was staring at you. This has become unexpectedly useful in your grownup career as a military sniper.
|
Sherry’s first feeling upon walking out of the C17 onto the tarmac was of gratitude. Gratitude for having gained the ability to sense the precise direction and distance of another human staring at her at a very early age. That and incredible heat of course. The Flightline was hot. Damn hot.
Her extra sensory perception made it exceedingly easy to figure out which guys were attracted to her, a skill that had proven incredibly useful for negotiating her way into the world of male exclusive combat roles. As a little girl she had always gotten along with the boys better anyway. Knowing when they were looking at her made for interesting recess games in school. It also helped a lot to know when her teachers were looking her way on test day.
Grandpa James, always “Papa” to Sherry, would have been very proud of her career. Another victim of the effects of Agent Orange, he had passed away before she graduated from High School. He used to tell her all about the camaraderie with his buddies and she met many of them as she got older. Wanting to follow in his footsteps she joined the Army right out of High School. Since then, she had found that without her ability, she might never have made it further than an admin role at some supply depot with the way things were at the time. But that was a long time ago.
Sweat immediately began forming in the small of her back in the blistering heat. The AC on the plane had been rather nice but the hot air outside punctuated the trip in her mind. It was time to get to work.
The rest of the passengers walked toward what appeared to be a briefing tent about forty yards away. Sherry grabbed her backpack and got in line behind the others. She could feel the stare of one of the soldiers standing in front of the tent. She immediately recognized who it was.
“Hey Stan!” She said, walking out of line toward him. She reached out her right hand as they approached each other.
“Shelly, nice to see they sent us the best.” Stan’s firm handshake was comforting. “Let’s grab your gear and get to the TOC. We have a brief in a few minutes.” Stan gave her a sly smile. “They’re waiting for you.”
|
I lurched awake, my clammy hands pawing the sheets off me onto the floor. Without even thinking, I found my sidearm in its home underneath the pillow and flicked the safety off. The sound woke up Cluey in the opposite bunk and he raised a sleepy eyebrow at me before nodding off, seeing that the barrel was pointed at nothing in particular. The slivers of machine light creeping through the vent onto me shone dimmer, orange and dull now that they'd already broken my sleep.
Distantly from above I heard the soft thud of mortar rounds as they fell uselessly on our JIMBO's surface level. Joint Imbedded Military Base of Operations. As with everything in the service, it became an acronym, and then a joke, one told nervously and with less laughter each time. The massive, labyrinthine structure was buried deep in the Kazakh soil, only two percent of it poked out of the ground like a concrete, taxpayer-funded iceberg. We all slept in tight bunks near the Penthouse where command lived and passed down orders to us. The air we breathed arrived from the irradiated surface completely stale, recycled and cleaned into the bare minimum required for life.
The reassuring weight and metal feel of the pistol let me lay back down onto the thin mattress. I stared up at the steel bunk above me and could hear Cluey gently snoring, somehow oblivious to the periodic shudders and tremors from each pointless mortar.
I put my gun back below my head and waited for our Slipstriker missiles to wipe out the mortar positions. The insurgents were saying hello, Good Morning, you invading sons of bitches. Somewhere in the hills three clicks away, they were whispering their prayers and beginning another day of distraction intended to soften us for the expected Russian/Chinese offensive. I had seen the officers drinking harder and barking orders with a new, anxious fury. No one even pretended to be brave when talking about the unmanned Chinese mecs we'd all seen videos of.
Like the soft singing of a new mother, in a cascading series of crashes and booms, each satellite-guided missile found its target with unfeeling precision. We would see bits of Kazakh fighters and cheap Russian hazmat armor strewn all over the hills today. I drifted into a pitch black arena of nothing, sleep finding me once again just as the last explosion evaporated into a shockwave that kept traveling for miles, desperate to find something that would absorb its meaningless energy.
| 2021-07-04T12:17:14 | 2021-07-04T11:04:17 | 73 | 45 |
[WP] Your girlfriend is a superhero but you're not a villain. You're the person working from the shadows making sure no one finds out about her secret identity.
|
Finding official merch for a low-paid clerical position in a team like this one was challenging. Of course, Lisa's PR team had dedicated plenty of time and resource into creating merch for the numerous side-kicks. Market research, stress testing, launch events. Even her *driver* got a t-shirt after a particularly well-televised car chase last year.
When Burt had joined in September, Lisa had promised him that the Disney store would be selling mugs with his face on by Christmas. "Kids everywhere will literally be drinking from your face" she had beamed one evening, rather unsettlingly.
But it was February now, and any chance of a mug - or anything else, for that matter - had been firmly ousted by the higher-ups. Even the new shredder was a challenge: approved only after Burt had spent a whole afternoon successfully piecing together the remnants of a utility bill that revealed Lisa's full name.
"You know I need you", Lisa would say. "Why do you need some shitty fridge magnet to prove that?"
But it wasn't enough.
Like many entry-level administrative assistants, Burt was angry at the world. He had a Masters degree. It was in Sports Psychology, but still. He had it.
In primary school, Burt was voted the most likely to become Prime Minister. His family were still under the impression that he ran a marketing department in the transport and logistics sector - a job title chosen because it was tedious enough to prevent any further questioning. Yet still, the job he had *invented* for the sole purpose of sounding boring was almost certainly more exciting than his reality.
And the reality was that Burt was turning into a villain.
Here was a man that could, with the click of a button, crumble the entire dynasty of one of the world's most famous superheroes. All it would take was an email, and she'd be finished. Why didn't they realise that? Why wasn't he given an appropriate amount of respect for someone in such a commanding position?
Nobody would have to know it was him, either. Burt wasn't an expert in much, but he'd carved a career out of his talent for anonymity.
He'd have his girlfriend back, too. She wasn't the person she used to be when she had saved him from the fire. She'd started to *believe* she was super. Burt had once told her that the fact she could fly was the least super thing about her. She seemed to like that compliment more than the others. He wouldn't dare say that to her these days.
Yes: on Monday, Burt would go into the office, as he always did. He would turn on his laptop, as he always did. He would make himself a cup of tea, in a mug with Lisa's face on it, as he always did. And then he would send an email to the Daily Mail.
By 11am, the world would know.
\_\_\_\_
The traffic was particularly bad on Monday morning. He arrived at 09:07 - the sort of arbitrary, uncontrollable slip-up that would still find its way into the conversation next time he floated the idea of a pay rise.
Laptop on. Kettle boiling.
But something was different today.
He opened the cupboard to grab his mug, only it wasn't Lisa's slightly tea-stained face that stared back at him. It was his. His face. On a mug. Was this some sort of joke?
A yellow post-it note curled itself around the rim. He grabbed it, expecting to read some sort of snarky message from Steve in finance. "Happy Valentines, my hero."
With one hand, Burt placed the post-it in his pocket. He'd be keeping that. With the other, he lifted the mug from its wooden enclosure, and turned it slowly to read the message on the back.
*Behind every great superhero is an ever greater administrative assistant.*
Merch. Burt merch. Not official Burt merch, but something even better.
Maybe this job wasn't so bad after all.
|
Dave was good at multitasking. He had to be, given what he was currently doing. Three monitors, all going at once, and all of them demanded his attention.
On the first was an extraordinary fight. A woman in a colorful spandex costume was fighting a 30 foot tall robot. The woman flew around at blistering speed, intercepting attacks with her (mostly) invulnerable body. She would then tear into the metal, damaging it heavily before it could retaliate. Dave did not technically need to devote much attention to that one. But he still did, because he liked the spectacle.
The second monitor was the public's reaction to the fight in the form of news and social media sites. He did not have to do much here. All he needed to do was make the occasional post from one of his dummy accounts, making sure nobody was paying attention to the people not in the fight.
The third monitor was where he needed to devote most of his attention. This one showed the bystanders. He was focused on one in particular. A beautiful young woman who was hiding from the fight. Or at least, that's what everyone else saw.
What Dave saw was the complex series of his self made holographic projectors forming the illusion of the woman. The real woman, the one who the illusion was based on, was currently fighting a giant robot. And he had to make sure nobody figured that out.
A few button presses made the projectors move in a way that made the image believable, while not bringing it into contact with anyone else. And with everyone scrambling around to not be in the lone of fire, that was hard.
He positioned it in a relatively safe area and took a moment to watch the fight. She had the easy job, really. Oh sure, it looked hard and all, but for someone whose daily warm up involved train engines and could block ICBMs with her face, it was really not.
Really, making sure nobody knew that was the hard part. Why she insisted on wearing an outfit like that was beyond him. It would be so much easier if she took measures to not advertise her rather dramatic figure, even when she was trying not to attract attention. But, it was hard to argue with someone like her.
Maybe he would teach her a little lesson? Maybe one of his accounts would maybe allude to the hologram's suspicious similarities to the heroine? Maybe that would teach her to wear a sweat shirt or something while not actively saving people.
He quickly tabled that idea. It would just make his life harder in the long run. But he could still bring it up now and then. She would, of course, accuse him of being clingy and not want her to catch the eyes of other men. It was the same argument they had had a dozen times before.
He considered his options until another person got dangerously close to his hologram. He had to scramble to get it away from contact range. Maybe that was how he got her to listen? Show her how hard he worked to keep her from getting noticed.
He guided the illusion away from any other people as best he could, then had it hunker down. He almost got comfortable again, when the fight ended. She had, of course, triumphed. She stood heroically over the remains of the robot, and basked in public adoration before flying off.
Dave rushed to put the image in a place where she could easily get to it and not draw attention. Once she had, he allowed himself to relax. Maybe he would record one of these sessions. Let her see exactly how hard he had to work, and how much easier a more concealing outfit would make things. He could drop a monitor, forgetting about the social media sites catching wind of her. He would not have to worry so much about small pieces of debris clipping through the hologram's exterior. So much would be solved with just a sweat shirt.
But, until the day she saw reason, he would continue to do as he had been. She would make sure to protect the world. He would make sure his super hero girlfriend had a secret identity to come home to afterwards.
| 2021-11-20T08:57:42 | 2021-11-20T08:30:42 | 88 | 45 |
[WP] You are a dragon that has been protecting a kingdom for centuries. Lately the rulers have been getting entitled. The last one crossed the line by directly disrespecting you. its time you reteach the humans why they should respect you.
Basically an ancient dragon putting a spoiled brat royal in its place by attacking the kingdom its protected for centuries.
|
I have become Ancient. I have entered the last and longest stage of a dragon's life, wherein my kind become truly wise.
For more than a thousand years, I have protected the frontiers of Amberholme, the greatest human kingdom of the south. They don't always realize I am their guardian, because I do not intervene in their petty disputes with the humans in neighboring lands. Such are not my affair, not unless the entire kingdom is threatened with destruction.
But, often unknown by the humans, Giants have come to destroy. Trolls and fell beasts have come to ravage. Goblins hordes have come to plunder. And I have burned them all *to ash.*
The humans honored me, and I honored them, as younger and elder siblings honor one another, each in different ways. Yes, I demand they show me reverence, but this is not an onerous requirement. There are beings to whom even I must pay homage, after all. It is no humiliation, no source of shame, to merely give due respect to those the Divine has set above you, as long as your reverence is not abused.
And I swear by my scales, my talons, and the fire in my heart, I *never* abused the honors the humans showed me, as some of my kind did in times past, becoming greedy for more and more tribute from those it was their place to watch over.
When some few misguided souls in Amberholme, dazzled by my brilliance and power, tried to worship me, I rebuked them. Though I admit their fawning and adoration appealed to my sense of draconic pride, I am no thief, and no fool, to try and steal that which rightly belongs to Divinity alone.
Some of my kind think it beneath a dragon's dignity to love humans, even when they do not hold them in outright contempt. But I love the people of Amberholme. They have so little time in the world, and yet fill it with so much. They are impetuous, crass, and quarrelsome, but they are also bold, curious, and loving. Like a flawed gemstone, they shine with beauty even in their imperfections.
But where I have carried the burden of patronage over this land for more than a millennia, lately it seems that my dear little siblings cannot carry the burden of leadership for even one of their own short lifetimes, without having their honor shatter beneath its weight.
It is a matter of my tribute. I am, I believe, quite austere in my demands. I ask nothing burdensome, merely a modest herd of kine scattered upon the hills at my mountain's base for me to hunt at leisure, and a few small baubles and conveniences, that are trivial for humans to craft for me, with their boundless energy and their clever little paws. I ask hardly any coin at all, a mere token amount for dignity's sake.
Their new queen, haughty and insolent little thing that she is, did send the caravaneers with my tribute at summertide, as always. An I did not, as some dragons might, roar a challenge, spit tongues of flame just shy of scorching them, or overfly the caravan to terrify them and their animals. I am secure in my own natural sense of draconic majesty, and have no interest in putting on some tiresome performance to magnify my glory among the humans. Even where it might prove educational for some of them.
But after they had unloaded their little crates, and turned loose some livestock to replenish my herd, the caravan's leader, an older nobleman, came forward, right up to the mouth of my lair. I did not forbid him. I am actually quite pleased to speak with my humans, or any little folk that come to me, if they show the proper respect.
When he drew close enough to begin to see me in the deep shadows of my cavern home, he fell on his knees, folded his hands before him, and bowed his head. That was...a *bit* much. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to rebuke and dissolve another dragon cult.
"Great Wyrm of the Mountain, Shield of Amberholme, I bring you a message from my Queen. I beg your indulgence and forgiveness, for I cannot do other than what my liege commands, and, her royal majesty is young, and....and she is *young,* Great Wyrm."
"Speak." I said, simply.
"M-my Queen said...said that I was to leave you, in her majesty's words 'one last shipment' and then tell you that...that 'Our arrangement is now permanently concluded'." the nobleman said, trembling.
I paused for a moment, and then exhaled slowly, rustling the man's hair and clothing, but not scorching him.
"Go." I commanded.
He did not make me repeat myself. Some dragons would be scandalized that I let him, or any of the caravan, leave my mountain alive, but that is foolishness. You cannot teach a lesson to someone who doesn't properly respect you, by killing someone who *does.*
In my younger days, I might have reacted...rashly, in response to a provocation like this.
I might have taken to the air, sparing the caravan for the respect they showed, but subsequently laying waste to every farm and field between me and the heart of the kingdom. I might have burned some castles to the ground, and torn others apart with tooth and claw, till not one stone stood upon another.
I might have swept over the kingdom like an avenging storm, devouring all, until I had my fill, and then burned the contents of my distended belly to nothing by the eldritch fire within me, so I could do it all *again.* And again. And again.
But I am not a hot-tempered Wyrmling, anymore. I am Ancient. I have become, even by the standards of dragons, *wise.* So I did not act rashly. Instead, I flew to the very top of my mountain, where I find the serenity to do my best contemplation. I looked out over the land, my eyes seeing more than a thousand leagues from my perch on the mountaintop.
Surveying the land in this way, I was able decide how I would instruct Amberholme in proper respect rather quickly.
Along the northern coast, I saw the Merrowfolk arriving. Denizens of the deep, astride massive amphibious sea serpents. They are able to live on land as well as beneath the sea, though they never make their homes ashore. As cold of heart as they are of blood, they come forth onto land betimes, once every few centuries, to pillage and destroy, and drag some unlucky land-dwellers back to their undersea lair, to be changed into monstrous things like them.
They were not enough of them, I noted, to destroy all of Amberholme. There were enough, however, to send a reply to the queen's impudent message.
When I was young, I would have roared my outrage to the heavens. I would have burned, and destroyed.
But I am Ancient, now. I will give a wiser, yet sharper rebuke.
What I will do, *is nothing.*
Next year's tribute, I expect, will be generous. And, if her successors are wise, as I have some reason to believe they are, by the standards of humans, it will include the current monarch's head.
|
I'd had enough. I gazed at the mighty army before me. I'd protected them for centuries, so I'd given them a warning. Their king chose to ignore it and instead sent out his army. But I was not turning against them for no reason. I Thrödos was the mightiest dragon in the realm. I'd protected the Kingdom Of Urazon from enemies so great, that they made armies collectively shit their pants.
I'd destroyed the Stone Trolls' army as they tried to sneak through the Gorgon's pass. I'd incinerated the armies of the Seven Kings Of Hellmont as they began their planned invasion of Urazon. I had been the one to go under the sea and fight the mighty Sea Dragon Lodos and destroy his army of sea-serpents with only tooth and claw. I had used my mighty wings to send the Forsaken Fleet crashing into Rock-Tooth Bay and then incinerated its sailors and warriors as they tried to scale the Hard Cliffs overlooking the bay. I'd offered my counsel to the Kings of Urazon, and preserved their line for centuries. That ended today.
Ever since the reign of King Curzon the Benevolent, the quality of the Kings had been decreasing. Bulwer the Boisterous had been a little loose but still an honorable man. Stafford the Singer had ignored his people leading to the Great Drought, which killed off many of the citizens, whom I had come to see as my children. And then there was King Jeffords.
At 13 years of age, he was crowned High King Of Urazon, Sword Of Light, Protector of the Realm, and upon his ginger curls was placed the dwarf forged crown of Eidos. During the crowning ceremony, he tried to order me to dress in motley and fly above his kingdom. I refused. Angry, the boy-king began to throw food and weapons at me. I ignored it. I looked away.
Then I felt a slight pain in my chest and saw a scale peel away. I gazed at the boy in shock. He was wielding the Necron Staff. The Staff I'd wrested from the Necromancer's dead body hundreds of years ago. He was attempting to kill me. I had had enough of him. I boomed, "Kingdom Of Urazon! Our friendship is over. I am now leaving this Kingdom at the mercy of its enemies. No longer shall I protect it!" I spread my wings and using my fiery breath set the sky on fire before soaring off.
The army assembled before me was greater than any I had faced before. The Royal fleet was aiming its ballistae and catapults at my sea cave. Approaching the cave from the land was a cavalry 100,000 strong. Each one was decked in full plate armor, and armed with a sword, shield, and lance. The Great Knightly Orders Of Urazon were all here.
Behind them, I'd seen as I flew the infantry troops carrying siege weapons of enormous size. They'd fired their massive ballistae at me, but I dodged them with ease. And now it was time.
I summoned my magic armor. My blood-red scales were already nigh-invulnerable to any mortal weapon, but this armor, a gift from the Sorceress Sylvan, was light as a feather and protected me from magic attacks. I spread my wings, each a hundred meters long, and arched my neck straightening out my tree-trunk thick spikes. I unfurled my tail and opened its spiky ball at the end. The armor flew onto me covering me from snout to tail, and wingtip to wingtip.
"Twangggggg," came the sound of a hundred ballistae firing at once. The Royal fleet had fired on my sea cave. I took off as my beloved abode collapsed. I wheeled around setting my snout in line with the Goldhammer, the lead galley of the fleet. I felt the fire warm my throat as I let loose a column of flame that completely engulfed it and its three accompanying galleys. I buffetted my wings, sending waves the size of small hills into the heart of the fleet.
I then tucked my wings and went under, crashing through several small galleys. Emerging in the style of a sea serpent, I took hold of the largest dromond I saw and took flight with it, dropping it down from cloud level, onto another ship. All the while, they fired their ballistae and catapults at me, uselessly bouncing off my armor. It took just ten minutes for me to reduce the Royal Fleet into burning wreckage.
By then the cavalry had reached the cave. I watched them from under the water, so frothy that it hid me completely. With my hawk-like eyes, I could identify the crests of several great knights. One of them pointed at the water. I emerged, in a storm of water and fear. With a single breath, I incinerated every Knight Commander of Urazon. Sir Dalton of House Doncaster. Sir Rickard of House Astley. Sir Robert of House Bancroft. Good men all. The horses began to flee. I smiled and began my game.
When the infantry and the King arrived, I was standing among the corpses of 100,000 knights. Behind me, the wreckage of the Royal Fleet smoldered and burned. The Goldhammer had been filled with explosive munitions, which were occasionally exploding and sending up jets of multicolored flame into the sky.
I stared at the King in his golden war chariot. He was dressed in full battle armor, and on his belt was a sheath of an ancient sword. In his hand was said ancient sword, held in a lopsided manner, unbefitting of its bloody, but still great legacy. "Thrödos! Recognize this sword? I believe it was used to kill your father so very long ago wasn't it?" He pointed it at me and I felt it. The Sword Of Lost Souls still contained the souls of each one of its victims. Greater dragons than me had fallen to its blade.
And then it began. Suddenly, the air filled with the stones of 10,000 catapults and trebuchets. The King charged at me screaming. I blew fire at him to no avail. The sheath protected its user from all physical damage. As he neared, I made my decision. I flew backward off the cliff, apparently retreating. The King laughed in joy as I flew away, his army hurling taunts. And then I turned. The smiles fell off the faces of all of the men, save the smarmy king. I opened my maw, revealing hellfire. Still, the King stood. I lowered my maw, at the cliff and let loose the largest burst of flame I had ever unleashed. The cliffs contained several unfound mines containing blasting powder, that I'd accidentally discovered. Before I'd always managed to put out the flame. Not this time.
For three seconds the cliff was engulfed in flame, save for King Jeffords. And then BOOOOOOOM! The entire cliff dissolved in flame, for kilometers in each direction. The King was sent forwards off the cliff still protected by his sheath, but even the sheath could not protect the King against the hundreds of tonnes of rock that poured down on him, as he floundered in the water.
I was angry now. I'd never destroyed a kingdom before. I intended to now. I would destroy Urazon. Erase it off the map, as I once did their enemies. I would sow the land with salt and fire. The Fifth Age would end.
| 2022-04-02T23:37:04 | 2022-04-02T22:42:03 | 159 | 50 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies.
|
After a few experiments I determined that the door indeed opens to whatever videogame I launch. Kinda feels like a dream come true, right? Well, apparently escapist fantasy only works when you're a hero. Or when you can save and load. Living as a humble NPC... Kinda sucks.
Still, I sifted through my collection. The plains of Limgrave gave me chills, I didn't dare even step outside. This world was death incarnate. I stared a little at the vast expanses of the forbidden west, but as beautiful as they were, I won't make it to the nearest settlement. A shame, really. It would be nice to play a typical Isekai hero and return some lost knowledge to this world.
Then it got weird. Nefarious city met me with a storm of industrial noises and neon lights. As much as I hoped to borrow Ratchet's Dimensionator to get back to my world, this city was also a no-go for an organic lifeform like me.
I didn't dare to boot up No Man's Sky. Vacuum of space or toxic atmosphere of a random planet would be even more deadly than unforgiving Elden Ring enemies.
Which is why I was now walking the streets of perfectly normal NYC, except for that Avengers tower, of course. My phone was still working here, I found some free WiFi and checked the news. It seemed that Roxxon company was still around, which meant that 1) I'm very much in danger and 2) I can use spoilers from the game to fix that sad ending. All I need to do is find a friendly neighbor, which should be easy since he's using an app to help people! Yeah, this will definitely work out nicely. And after I help Miles save the city (and his best frenemy), I can just... Stay here? Marvel universe shouldn't be too bad, right? At least they don't have covid.
...
Oh crap.
|
I picked Skyrim, when the alternatives are the Flood, Zombies, or Demons; dragons, bears, and trolls don't seem so bad. Bad shit only happens when the dragon born is around anyways, so I avoided him like he was the plague mixed with AIDs.
Before I stepped through the door though, I had to wrack my brain for the safest part of Skyrim, I remember reading somewhere that the dragon born doesn't need to visit Dawnstar for the main quest, so I went with Dawnstar.
I got a job from some NPC to work the farm, they had some questions about my clothes. I just told them I'm from Cyrodil and trying to make a new life, I think they bought it because they didn't ask more questions, and gave me the job.
I make 16 gold an hour to till the fields grind wheat, which is enough to keep me stocked on bread, cheese, and milk. I work for 3 weeks at a time, buy 3 months of food and water, and then hide away in my room until supplies are exhausted, then I go back to work. I wish I could say I was smart, or observant, or talented, but I've got no fuckin idea why this happened, so I'm just gonna try to not die for a while.
It's been going well so far though, it's been almost 2 years by my count, and I'm still surviving, thriving even, the hard work has me in better shape than I've ever been, and I finally had time to actually play my video games, which has been nice. With the capitalist hellscape I was in back home, I struggled to make ends meet, I had rent, utilities, insurance, car payments and now I can be free.
It's ironic really, I thought life was going to be awful with the new setup, but it's never been so easy for me before. I even have Wi-Fi so I've been thinking about experimenting with mods.
| 2022-06-07T16:09:55 | 2022-06-07T16:05:43 | 249 | 167 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that’s when you realize you’ve been dating a dragon in human form.
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My eyes widened and my entire body went still. For a second, I didn't even breathe. Then I processed what I was seeing.
Infront of me, right under me and my girlfriends house was some sort-of treasure hoard. Millions of smoothe, gold coins piled up in every corner, shimmering as they hit the light reflected off of colourful crystals and elegant chandeliers. Treasure chests spilled their plentiful contents out onto the stone floor and famous paintings lined the walls.
It was all so confusing, how was this under my house, *why* was this under my house, but then I realised something.
My girlfriend Selene had always seemed fairly normal. Well, not *normal,* but nothing was ever off about her. She was fun and bubbly, and stood out wherever she went, with both her forest green hair, and her bright personality.
But, despite this, some thoughts began popping into my head. Thoughts about how she was always naturally warm, even in the freezing cold, about how she seemed kind of new to stuff that were a daily part of life, about how she didn't seem to have any naturally coloured roots beneath her long, soft sheet of green hair, how she never had to re-dye it.
Dragons usually kept treasure hoards, didn't they?
Did this mean..
I took a step forwards, then another, surveying my surroundings once more, trying to take it all in.
Then, something caught my eye. Something that had initially been hidden behing a pile of gold.
I spotted something bright red, hanging from a coaghanger.
I made a beeline for whatever this item of clothing was, only to be greeted with, well, quite the surprise.
A bright red, silk dress with little diamonds embroidered along the neck hung before me.
A memory began playing in my brain, and I remembered where this dress was from.
On Selene and I's first date, I had showed up in this dress. We were at a fancy restaurant. Everything was fine, until a waiter that had been passing by tripped, spilling some of the cola from the glass he was carrying. It landed on my dress, leaving a dark brown patch trailing down the side of the silk.
Once we left, we agreed to go to Selenes place. I put on some of her pyjamas, and she put my dress in for the wash. After, I practically forgot about it.
Upon further inspection, I saw that the stain was entirely gone, leaving the dress good as new. Not only this, but the dress was surrounded by many other items that brought back memories:the flowers I got her for our one year anniversary; a framed photo of the time we went hiking, and I thought I'd die from exhaustion; the bow, pulled from the wrapping of a present I had given to her for Christmas.
Looking at all of this, at all of these memories layed out, visual proof that she treasured them as much as I did, it brought tears to my eyes, and a smile to my lips.
"Honey?"
I whirled round to see the surprised face of my girlfriend.
"Selene..!"
"I'm.. I'm sorry!" She cried. "You can have the dress back!"
"I-what?" I half-whispered back, shocked.
"Huh?"
"I don't care about the dress, honey. I..." I looked at all of our belongings that she had kept here, then back at her. "You kept all of this stuff?"
"Well, I mean.. This is my treasure hoard, and this stuff is, well, treasure. To me, at least."
I smiled, tearing up again. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out, so instead I just lunged forwards and embraced her.
|
"Honey ! Where is my guitar's cable ?" I shouted from downstairs. "Where should I know ?" Check the basement !" she shouted back. She was the one who asked me to play some songs for her... Well, I do everything for the love of my life.
I stock everything in the basement... My guitar equipments, dead pc components, different types of cables etc etc... I got a little bit angry because I couldn't find the cable, and kicked a big box right next to the wall... Box destroyed and I've found something like a little door that goes down further. I didn't do this... What the hell is this ??
With the help of my phone's flashlight and a baseball bat, I went down. Slowly but surely. Anything could appear in front of me there. Bug, mouse, spider, bat... That's why I took the baseball bat. As I walked forward, that tunnel growed bigger... When I reached the end of it... That was the biggest shock of my entire life... Golds, gems, trinkets... Full of that stuff... Worth maybe tens of millions !
"Holy shit !" I screamed. I had to tell this to Eula, surely she'll be extremely happy with what I've found. Turns out, she was not happy about it. When I looked back, she was staring at me with fire in her eyes...
"Eula... Your eyes..." I only could say... "It seems like you've found out my secret, love." she replied. "What are you talking about baby, what the hell is going on here ?" I asked. "Let's just sit down, and let me explain, I hope you'll still love me after I confess" she said...
When we sat down, the light was out because my phone was dead. But there was a light. No actually fire, coming out from her eyes... "Allow me" she said and fired some torches with her breath... Again, I said "Holy shit !"
"As you can guess love. I'm a dragon. I have fire breath to prove it" she said. "And this stash you've found, it's my horde." she continued. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place ?" I asked. "Tell and let the love of my life run away from me ?" She replied.
She sounded reasonable, and I didn't want to question her anymore. She is the love of my life... Doesn't matter if she's a dragon, or a vampire or something else it doesn't matter because I'm in love with her.
She really cried as I told these to her. Gave me a big hug... "So... I guess we need to add one more house rule" she said while giggling. "What is it ?" I asked. "No touching my horde" she replied. While laughing, "You know, our ps4 started to wear off... If you buy a ps5 for us, I promise I won't touch it" I said. "Stop being an asshole" she giggled and playfully hit my shoulder couple of times. "Fine, you got the bargain" she continued.
"And by the way, I'm very possessive with my horde. And you are; part of my horde. You are my horde's most precious gem... I'll be more possessive of you" she said. "I'm all yours, baby." I replied.
As our evening continued, I've found my guitar cable and played her favorite songs for her, sang with her together.
That's how I learned she's a dragon. Completely by accident. What is so special about today ? Why I'm telling this ? Because, I'm marrying with that dragon girl tonight...
| 2022-09-10T12:05:18 | 2022-09-10T12:03:51 | 67 | 30 |
[FF] What's on the tape?
(Inspired by seeing the trailer for the movie V/H/S)
Your character(s) find a VHS tape. What is on it? Where did they find it?
WORD COUNT MAX: 200 WORDS. (As always - http://www.wordcounttool.com if you need a counter.)
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Veronica stretched out lazily on her grandmother’s couch. Upstairs, the rest of the family were happily chatting away. Veronica sighed. She hated the insincerity of family events. Her parents called her discontent a ‘teenage phase’, but she hated how her family could only express their feelings in food. Her parents had been pushing sweet, rich food on her for months.
Tired of staring at the ceiling, she wandered over to Grandma’s cabinet filled with VCRs.
“Just like them to have a basement full of crap.” Veronica muttered. “Would it kill them to buy a DVD player?”
Each tape was meticulously labeled with a name. It took Veronica a second to recognize many of the names – each tape was for a deceased family member. At the top of the pile, there was a tape marked ‘Veronica’. Maybe it was an old aunt?
Curious, she popped it into the VCR player. Images popped up immediately, nto of some deceased family member, but of Veronica. She stared at the screen uncomprehendingly. Baby Veronica toddling across the yard, graduating from school, going to prom… Then a screen: “In honor of our sacrifice on August 8th, 2012.”
From upstairs, a call: “Veronica, dinner!”
|
**A/N: 198 Words, first story contributed to this subreddit. I would appreciate feedback.**
“This isn’t a good idea, Mark.”
Mark rolled his eyes, backing out of the closet with an old VCR machine in hand. “Don’t freak out *Brandie*, Mom and Dad will never know.”
Large brown eyes narrowed as they always did whenever his nickname was mentioned.
After messing around with the wires, the two brothers sat down in front of the television. Brandon watched as the other inserted the VHS tape they found with a large click.
“*Oooohhhh…*” moaned the television screen. The duo suddenly looked on in horror.
Two young shadowed figures lay on a bed, furiously making love. Both frozen with shock, it wasn’t until a solid minute later that Brandon snapped his hand to stop the video.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough. The female voice managed to let out a passion filled, “*Robert…*” right before the screen turned black.
Silence. The younger of the two shuffled nervously.
“…that was…”
“We never speak of this again.” Mark interjected.
“But..!” Brandon trailed off, and then kept silent, following his brother’s suggestion.
***
“Hi kids, I’m home!”
“…hi…”
“What’s with those faces? Is your father home yet?”
“I brought pizza,” then, to the direction of the study, “Robert, dinner’s ready!”
| 2012-08-08T09:08:56 | 2012-08-08T09:04:42 | 63 | 10 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose.....
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"And yours?" the divine agent asked me. A weariness in the question betrayed some edge of boredom or frustration in dealing with petty mortals.
"Power negation?" I ventured.
"Taken," I was informed, flatly.
"Power *theft*?"
"Taken."
"Domination, then." I was aware of the purpose of these powers and figured the direct approach could work.
"*Taken*."
By that point, I was as frustrated as the divine. Reflecting on the state of the world to be ruled, I thought about the one thing it perhaps needed most.
"Consequences."
"Excuse me?" the divine asked as if brought out of a stupor.
"I want the power to bring consequences. Divine judgment, if you will."
The glowing wells that passed for the divine's eyes narrowed into bedight points. "Granted. Fortune be with you."
The following days where interesting, to say the least.
I watched as divine strength could mangle a car well before he could throw it, and when his joints gave out, it was gruesome. (I'd find out later that I was only partially responsible.)
Divine speed earned herself some well-deserved friction burns before she collided with an oncoming 18-wheeler. I might feel sorry for her but moreso for the horrified driver.
Divine dominance actually had to *manage* the people he controlled, and it turns out not many people are well suited to management. He quit after twenty or so.
Same with divine presence. Sure, she was popular, the biggest celebrity in an era, but the constant demands for attention drove her into hermitage inside of six months. She's in her mansion living off of the gifts her fans leave at her front gate.
Poor divine flight, shot down for violating sovereign air space.
Divine greed, the guy who nicked Power Theft? Arrested for arson. His home country decided not to execute him in favor of using him to power a hydroelectric plant.
Divine wealth, the multi-quintillionaire? Assassinated, and none too subtly. Turns out the world's economic powers get very edgy around someone who can literally buy whole nations.
Maybe I feel the worst for divine fortitude. Can't be hurt, physically or mentally. But without pain, specifically discontent, he doesn't do much because he's free from want and the drive to change anything. At least his Food Dares YouTube channel has over 2 million subscribers, though the idea of scorpion pepper mukbang makes me flinch.
Oh right, divine denial, the Power Negation guy? We're actually good friends. We were both aiming for ways to stop the other 98 from screwing over the world. Once the threat was over, I turned my influence to the world political stage. I keep Denial in my back pocket to stop me from doing anything heinous, but things have gotten a lot better now that corrupt officials and executives are getting what they deserve.
|
My turn. Everything obvious like telepathy, teleportation, and strength is taken of course. The two I wanted most are gone. Healing went at 11 and empathy went at 32 which is sort of encouraging I guess.. I'd never heard of Reactive Adaptation but now I want it.
Even the lame ones are gone. Indestructible Digestion was 92. Have a good time a lifetime of farts. 99 just took Zombification. Didn't even know that was a thing. I think I'd prefer to just die myself.
"We're waiting..."
"Do you have like a list or something?"
"You've been chosen to get superpowers; you should be able to come up with one on your own."
"OK then I want Size Manipulation."
"Taken at 63."
"Damn. I always wanted Hermoine's purse."
"This isn't a joke."
"Not joking. How about emotion inducement."
"Please. That went at 16."
"Total recall. Obviously I could use that one."
"12."
"Okay, okay, I have it. The power to manufacture superpowers at will."
"God. You are not taking this seriously enough number 100. This is a massively important decision with world-changing consequences. I am not sure how you ended up as a candidate at all but here we are. The celebratory luncheon is getting cold."
I'm sensing her annoyance. It's true I do tend to make light of serious things. I'm still not sure my mother has forgiven me for the outburst of laughter at my grandfather's funeral. Then it hits me. Many effective superheroes are leaning into their tendencies. Iron Man already thinks technology is cool. Hulk has a temper. Etc.
"Humor." I announce it proudly.
"Pardon?"
"The power to induce laughter. I want to be able to make people think I'm hilariously funny. I don't want them to think I'm funny constantly, just when I think they need to laugh. Will that work for a superpower."
The slightest smile appears around the corners of her lips. She nods. "That will work."
I'm going to need to be careful with this. I don't want to turn into some kind of diabolical Joker. I need to use it for good.
"Oh, and I want to be genuinely funny not create the illusion of being funny."
She nods, "Of course. We need you to be believable."
I'm delighted with my superpower. I just know that laughter can help dissipate anger and aggression and grief. Maybe getting different people to laugh at the same thing can create some common ground and reconciliation.
And to relieve tension.
I think I'll start with this luncheon. Everybody could use some levity and an exhausting morning of choosing superpowers.
Then another thought hits me. Nobody said anything about whether or not we can profit from our superpowers. Not gonna ask.
Making a few bucks on the comedy circuit might be something fun to do while I'm waiting for the opportunity to do good in the world. Yeah, I'm going to be on SNL and Jimmy Kimmel.
| 2022-11-17T07:41:47 | 2022-11-17T00:14:57 | 772 | 529 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose.....
|
100 people. Who can conquer the world first. I was never lucky. I only won one thing in my entire life and that was a large stuffed bear in a raffle 4 people entered. We were given an hour to consider, then they gave their boons.
Immortality was gone. Persuasion too. Self multiplication. Material conversion. Super intellect. No one chose the basic ones. The stakes were too high. The winner would herald in a new age for humanity. The losers would be dead or villianized. Luck manipution went close to 90. I didn't pay attention. No one would take mine.
"100. What do you choose?" The orb said.
"Second place." I replied.
"Explain."
"I want to be the second best at everything."
The screens with the other 99 errupted with discussion.
The orb began pulsing. Asking if this was to be allowed. It hummed, and gave the blue light of bestowal.
I felt it. I wasn't as smart as 05. I wasn't as persuasive as 9. I wasn't as tactical as 21. I wasn't as good of an imitator as 57. I was close though. They called me Jack of All. And in the end, I wasn't second. I was first.
|
“My turn!” I yelled, running forward. As I faced the monitor, I scrolled the list of powers already claimed. All of them were, even the one I wanted, but I decided to ask anyway.
“I want the power to fly!” I proclaimed.
🎵 “GRANTED” A musical synthesized voice said.
The crowd jeered and booed, but then the adjudicator stepped forward. “Well, let’s see then.” she said. I grinned, cocky, and ran forward to the front of the stage. Reaching the lip, I leapt into the air, expecting to take flight, but I fell to the ground with a rather comical clack. The crowd roared with laughter.
“You asked for something already received. It can’t be duplicated! You got nothing. Pathetic.” she said, looking down her nose at me. “Pick yourself up, boy!”
“Fuck” I said, starting to move. All the pressure of lifting myself up moved something in my gut, and I couldn’t help but fart.
Before I knew it, I’d flown into the air. I hovered above the crowd, all of whom were pinching their noses and gazing up at me in horror.
Well I guess that’s one way to achieve flight. We thought powers couldn’t be duplicated, but it seems we were wrong. The method of attaining the power couldn’t be duplicated. The first guy, well, the first guy had wings.
I have… powerful lips.
(I’m so sorry)
| 2022-11-17T08:01:45 | 2022-11-17T03:54:46 | 63 | 40 |
[WP] You’re a dragon who kidnapped a prince/princess. All is going to plan but… it’s been a month and no one’s come to save them.
|
Circling the tower for the 18th time that week, I realised nobody was in any rush to collect her. See, in my culture, it's noble to die to a knight. And the princess didn't seem to mind. I mean, at first she did. But she seems quite happy here, with the peace and quiet, doing everything at her own pace. I tucked my head into the stone archway leading to her quarters.
"Hello!" She smiled, tucking her beautiful golden locks behind her ear. I came closer, and she lovingly stroked my wings.
"Thank you for everything, Darcie. I'm so glad we're friends," She giggled, "Atleast I hope we are."
I roared happily. I loved whenever she called me by my nickname. It was surprisingly close to my name in Dragonian, which is Darcaia. I wanted her to tell me more of her stories! They could never get old, no matter how many times I heard them, or what they were about.
"I really like it here. But I miss home sometimes. We used to host great feasts, for the whole kingdom!" Her eyes glowed as she described it. "Anyone who was anyone came along. It was the only time I was permitted to talk with people outside my palace. We exchanged stories, and joked with each other. It was the only day that social rank could be forgotten."
The joy from her face began to fade. "Yet none of them care enough to find me!" She cried, her voice quaking. "It's been a month, and you say nobody has even sent out one search party?"
Seeing tears roll down her face upset me, so I gestured for her to climb onto my back. I didn't know how else to comfort her, but to show her something new.
Once she was comfortable, we took off. I climbed the clouds, and the princess squealed with excitement. We flew above her kingdom, and you could see everything. It truly was breathtaking. I'd never stopped to appreciate views like this. I suppose that was one of the many things the princess taught me.
|
“Princess, no one going to show up for you?”
“No, I’m only 4th in line for the throne so I’m not that important, definitely not worth enough to fight a dragon over”
“Do you not have any friends or lovers?”
“All my friends are fake and even if they weren’t, none of them know how to fight, and my love life is probably worse than yours”
“Huh guess my plan isn’t gonna work then, might as well change back to my human form”
“What?”
“Oh I’m a half breed Dragon, so I can change into the form of a Dragon and In my human form I have super strength, scales as armor, and I can control darkness”
“So even if someone came to rescue me they would have no chance”
“Yeah, I was just gonna hold you for ransom and get some money to help out the poor”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because unlike the nobility I actually care about the lower class, I mean weather you’re rich or poor or a half breed like me were still people”
“So you were never going to kill me?”
“Nope”
“I can’t believe this, the fearsome dragon of shadows actually isn’t that bad of a guy”
“Their still calling me that, I started that rumor centuries ago when I was still a toddler”
“Wait centuries, how old are you?”
“I’d say around 10,845 years, give or take”
“Then why do you look my age?”
“Half breeds age differently than humans, like how dogs age faster than humans, half breeds age slower than humans, by the way since you have no friends, and I have no friends how about we befriend each other”
“Wait you don’t have any friends?”
“Half breeds are solitary creatures, not really belonging to any race we’re on our own once we know how to survive and use our powers”
“What about your parents?”
“My mother feared me, and my dad couldn’t stick around since he was a dragon and constantly being hunted”
“When you were forced to be on your own, how did you survive?”
“I killed and survived by any means necessary”
| 2022-11-24T12:12:05 | 2022-11-24T07:09:46 | 252 | 44 |
[WP] You have no idea what happened. One second it was 1915 and you were in the trenchs, now you're in the middle of a huge crowded city and everyone is celebrating "new years 2023"
|
I would think an enemy soldier shot me dead and now I'm in the afterlife, but I know for sure that bullet missed me. But now that I'm here, everyone's throwing some gigantic body in New York City.
When I asked someone what the festivities were for, they laughed about it. It didn't sound like they were trying to mock me. It sounded like a genuine laugh, so they must've thought I was joking. It's as if what this party is celebrating should be blatantly obvious.
As I look around, I see lots of people wearing hats and fake glasses and stuff that say "2023." It appears to be some sort of code, but I have no idea what it could mean or even be for.
I'm just gonna ignore that and assume that this is a party celebrating our victory in the war. And that means the war is over! Let's go!
Wait. What did I just say? "Let's go?" Go where? Back to war? I hope not.
Wherever I am, it seems to be having some sort of strange effect on my mind. I suddenly have this weird desire to look at some rectangular light in my hand and see if there are any circles with numbers on them.
What is it with this bizarre dimension I'm in and numbers? What a random obsession.
"Dude, get excited! The countdown's about to start!" someone shouts at me. Again with the numbers. Maybe whatever this countdown is for will clear things up for me.
**10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!**
"HAPPY!" everyone shouts together after the countdown ends.
I now find myself somewhere else again. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish it was back in the trench. I know I just said a moment ago that I was glad the war was over, but at least I'd be back in familiar territory.
Instead, I'm- ...Oh dear god. I'm somehow on the Titanic now and I can see the iceberg up ahead.
I've gotta go. Later, fam. Why do I keep talking so weird?!
|
This is very strange. I know that may be the understatement of the century, but it is very strange. Also, apparently it is not the same century, so maybe it is the understatement of two different centuries.
One second I was just sitting there, hanging out in a trench, shooting my gun at the other trench. The booms of guns was everywhere around me, and the next second the booms are still going up, but they are not from guns at all. They are from fireworks going off in the sky.
My clothes are different. I am wearing a tuxedo. It feels too tight, but I have to admit that it looks suave as shit on me. I honestly can't tell if it is more or less comfortable than the gear I was wearing a second ago. The company is better. Lots of girls. In that trench there was just a bunch of dirty dudes, it got old pretty fast, but now there are gorgeous women everywhere. And they are in these skimpy dresses that I can't believe are even legal. If this is what the future is like, I hope I never have to go out.
People are walking around celebrating, hugging, telling each other "Happy New Year." It is very nice. It sure beats bullets shooting right by your ears, that's for sure. Everybody is so nice. People shove glasses of booze into my hand and I drink it up.
I wonder how I got here. If it is all a dream. I pinch myself. It's not a dream. Or I just pinched myself in a dream and that is not actually a real indicative test of dreamstate. I just go ahead and assume it is not a dream. Did I time travel? How? Did I fall into a portal? And why here in 2023? That seems arbitrary.
I decide I am not going to learn the answers to the questions and decide instead to focus on partying. The war is over and people have computer phones in their pockets. 2023 as far as I can tell is just smooth sailing and relaxation.
What was that? I didn't understand what you just said? What's a global warming and microplastics?
| 2022-12-26T23:02:44 | 2022-12-26T22:27:29 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] You have no idea what happened. One second it was 1915 and you were in the trenchs, now you're in the middle of a huge crowded city and everyone is celebrating "new years 2023"
|
I would think an enemy soldier shot me dead and now I'm in the afterlife, but I know for sure that bullet missed me. But now that I'm here, everyone's throwing some gigantic body in New York City.
When I asked someone what the festivities were for, they laughed about it. It didn't sound like they were trying to mock me. It sounded like a genuine laugh, so they must've thought I was joking. It's as if what this party is celebrating should be blatantly obvious.
As I look around, I see lots of people wearing hats and fake glasses and stuff that say "2023." It appears to be some sort of code, but I have no idea what it could mean or even be for.
I'm just gonna ignore that and assume that this is a party celebrating our victory in the war. And that means the war is over! Let's go!
Wait. What did I just say? "Let's go?" Go where? Back to war? I hope not.
Wherever I am, it seems to be having some sort of strange effect on my mind. I suddenly have this weird desire to look at some rectangular light in my hand and see if there are any circles with numbers on them.
What is it with this bizarre dimension I'm in and numbers? What a random obsession.
"Dude, get excited! The countdown's about to start!" someone shouts at me. Again with the numbers. Maybe whatever this countdown is for will clear things up for me.
**10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!**
"HAPPY!" everyone shouts together after the countdown ends.
I now find myself somewhere else again. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish it was back in the trench. I know I just said a moment ago that I was glad the war was over, but at least I'd be back in familiar territory.
Instead, I'm- ...Oh dear god. I'm somehow on the Titanic now and I can see the iceberg up ahead.
I've gotta go. Later, fam. Why do I keep talking so weird?!
|
Oh hell, what new devilry have they concocted now! Even through the strain of my vigorously shut eyes, new, strange, dangerous colors force their way to my perception. I have seen my fair share of munitions in my time, none of them ever shone with hues like this.
 
Despite my better judgement, I force open my eyes.
 
Heaven, as I imagined it, would be far more serene. Clouds, harps, the usual adornments attributed to the ever-after. What stands before me now is something else entirely. The rainbow of colors which moments earlier danced upon my eyelids, continue to erupt in spectacular fashion high up in the sky.
 
Rather than shrieking in terror, the undulating mass of people splayed out before me cheer in adoration and celebration. Spires far more monstrous than I can possibly have imagined stretch up to the clouds while their shiny surfaces reflect back the explosions of multi-color light.
 
The raucous dissonance only grows as above the noise, a claxon countdown begins its measured descent.
 
10.
9.
8.
7.
 
With each fading number the roar rises to levels I moments earlier thought impossible.
 
6.
5.
4.
 
I know not what comes next but I instinctively recede back into myself. Nothing good can come from this.
 
3.
2.
1.
 
The explosions redouble their effort. The crowd exultates with reckless abandon. Without regard, all manner of men and women begin to amorously embrace in debaucherous ways. The gentleman closest to me spills his stomach upon the ground only to wash it down with more libations.
 
So. I had always wondered if my actions in the service of something greater could be forgiven. If the things I was called on to do in the line of duty could wash off my eternal soul or would I be forced to bear their stain forever. I suppose I have my answer now.
 
I no longer bear than chance to face my creator, I instead find myself self in the realm of the fallen.
| 2022-12-26T23:02:44 | 2022-12-26T21:39:40 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] Adapt a famous fairy tale so it has a realistic ending.
I'm about to go to sleep. Bedtime story!... Except that I won't read anything until I get up. Happy Saturday.
|
"She should be coming soon," Grandma Hood faintly whispered to herself. "Oh, it's been so long, I wonder what she looks like!"
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
The rapping of a gentle fist on the door broke her train of thought. Looking through the peephole, Grandma Hood saw her granddaughters beautiful face. It had been five years, and despite her growth, there was no way she could forget what her own flesh and blood looked like.
Letting her in, she took the whistling teapot of the stove and steeped her best tea leaves, and they caught up on everything.
"Oh dear, I hope you were alright walking through the woods... I had heard some howling before," Gam-Gam said.
"Oh it wasn't a problem. I just saw one wolf, but he was solitary. They only really hunt in packs, and they'd have trouble taking me down alone. It was probably just looking to find a mate to start another pack. You know, acting on its biological imperatives and all. Not a problem at all," Red replied.
"That's nice dear," Gam-gam smiled as she sipped her tea.
Little Red Riding Hood
|
The council stared at the village elder incredulously. They shifted glances at each other before one of the magistrates leaned in to ask of the elder, “Repeat that again.”
“Certainly. Arthur pulled the sword from the stone. According to Heavenly Decree, he is now rightfully the King of England.”
The magistrate coughed into his hand, looked back to his councilmen who stared at the ridiculous fool standing before them. The magistrate started a coughing fit; a reflex of his during anxiety. Another councilman continued where the magistrate left off, “The claim to the throne is not legitimate. We will not make a commoner a king based on superstition of *Heavenly Decree.*" He emphasized the end of his rejection with aristocratic insolence, and the old man’s face started to flush bright red, contrast to his absurd blue garbs.
“Is this the court’s unanimous decision?” He asked. Before anyone else could answer, the councilman answered for them. “Yes, and tell your man to put the sword back where it belongs.”
“He is a boy. He is the rightful King of England. And he will put the sword where it belongs.” He turned on his heels and left. The councilman could not foresee the threat the wizard had made, and the sword would not be plunged back into the earth, but through his heart.
| 2014-03-29T11:13:38 | 2014-03-29T10:44:40 | 50 | 30 |
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