prompt
stringlengths 20
5.8k
| chosen_story
stringlengths 226
10k
| rejected_story
stringlengths 227
9.43k
| chosen_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 14:34:19
| rejected_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
| chosen_upvotes
int64 14
23.1k
| rejected_upvotes
int64 10
4.26k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP]Death Eaters win The battle of Hogwarts killing all opposition and breaking a one thousand year old truce between muggles and wizards. Lord Voldemort must now face the full might of the United Kingdoms' military.
|
President Barrack Hussain Obama stared out of the window in quiet reflection. It had been 18 months of bloody slaughter the likes of which had not been seen since Stalin and Mao.
"Estimated 2 million dead from the retaliatory nuclear strikes against Hogwarts and the fallen Ministry of Magic. The new infrared sensors on the modified KH-11's were successful in defeating the cloak. That said, it's a one trick pony. Voldemort.." Leon Panetta, SecDef said grimly, ignoring the gasps by the wizards in the room, "will find a way to defeat it sooner or later. Wizard friendlies and POW's are working to find a permanent solution".
"I thought London was fully evacuated a few months ago?" The President responded without looking back.
"Mr. President, we have done all we can to save those in London. Those that remain wished to live under He Who Must Not Be Named" said David Cameron, surrounded by his own senior staff. UK's senior government officials were evacuated and claimed free from the Imperius Curse by the friendly survivors of the UK Ministry of Magic.
The fact that there were enough wizards to run a functioning government was a wonder to President Obama. It was a testament to their ability to stay hidden and to their power.
"How many of the enemy did we kill?" the president asked, turning around to look at a tall, gaunt wizard standing next to David Cameron. The room now had 10 aurors, authorized to use killing curses to protect the President and his staff. Two more magical and regular fire-teams stood outside on the lawn and in the corridors.
"I can confirm that the Trident II missile strikes killed 1000 Death Eaters and severely injured the Dark Lord. It would appear that DARPA and MI6, along with Mr. Weasley at the advanced magic research team rightly hypothesized that the shockwave from 1 Megaton nuclear device travels far enough to penetrate the magical interference zone and travel along the axionic folds of spacetime into shielded areas like knockturn Alley." He said with a mild cough. Andrei was an auror who braved the radioactive fallout to see the effects of the blast. Even healing potions weren't 100 percent effective against the massive fallout from a large airbursts like those which went off over London.
DARPA and the remnants of MI6 and MI5 were working with surviving human-friendly wizards, secreted out to the US mainland. They hoped to better understand the source of magic and perhaps arm the common troops with more effective weapons. In the 15 months or so that the wizarding community revealed itself and asked ordinary humans for help against Voldemort, they have had luck modifying satellites to penetrate both common cloaking effects and dimensional folds used to hide buildings.
In desperation, David Cameron authorized the sterilization of London, targeting the fallen ministry of magic, Hogwarts, Knockturn Alley, and Azkaban in an effort to thin the rapidly growing ranks of the Dark Lord. The UK government had tried to evacuate the entire population, an act which the enemy seems to have allowed uninterrupted in the beginning. However they started ambushing convoys a few months ago ; causing thousands of casualties. Many did not want to leave, preferring to submit to the dark lord. Their deaths troubled Obama; He had tried to convince David otherwise, but David overruled his objections and authorized the launch from Royal Navy Submarines off the coast of Ireland.
Sir Peter Wall, spoke up into to silence. "The ground war is not going anywhere. Our weapons are all but useless in the zone of magical inteference around active wizards. Weapon effectiveness for both infantry and armored cavalry is down to less than 5%. Special forces have had better luck, ambushing enemy wizards who are resting and sleeping. However they are now setting up magical defenses to counter such strategies. Quite frankly sirs, the scientists need to speed up their R&D process to implement magical weapons for regular troops or we will lose most of the armed forces through attrition. Not counting the strikes, the kill ratio is 10,000 to 1 in their favor."
TBC...
|
"Dobby, is that bloke up there?"
"Yessir. The one with no nose, sir?" Young Lance-Corporal Dobson ducked a curse, one of the colourful ones with sparks in. They were taking moderate fire, and Staff Sergeant Longbottom now seemed to be in command of a large swathe of British troops. Or would, if a large swathe of British troops had been left to command. He, Dobson, and a private named Fitch were cut off from sight of the others, if others there were, by the ruined castle to their right. They were pinned behind a boulder that used to be a stone guardsman, Fitch immobilised by one of their jinx thingies.
"Correct, Lance-Corporal. Take a peek and see if 'e's got that snake with him."
"Yessir." Dobson flattened himself to the floor, wriggled around the rock as the Sergeant gave him some cover, and then squirmed backwards, accompanied by a shower of sparks. "Bloody hell, Sarge, it's a good thing you knew to rub the shells in clover root to stop them being magicked out of the air. How'd you know that, again?"
"I had a cousin who was one of that lot. One of the good lot. Now, was there a bloody snake or not?"
"Yessir, wrapped around that big tree up there, the dead one with the great long thin branches."
"That tree ain't dead, Lance-Corporal, it's hibernating. Shoot it."
"The bullets don't kill the snake sir, it's been tried." Dobson knew he sounded defeatist, but there was really a limit to the number of times you could launch a massive offensive against a snake and come away the losers.
"Not the ruddy snake, Dobson, the *tree*, shoot the tree. On three."
"I... yessir..." On the Sergeant's word, him standing and Dobson kneeling behind a the stone guard's shoulder, they opened fire on the blackened trunk.
The killing curse got the Sarge almost at once. Dobson let out a curse of his own, this one rather more colourful than the ones exploding off the statue's helmet, and emptied the last of his ammo up the slope at the tree which looked, to him, as dead as the rest of his squad. A jinx of some sort caught his arm and caused it to become floppy and useless, but by then it was over and he knelt there waiting for the one that would kill him. Perhaps they'd overlook Fitch.
The tree stirred. Dobson's eyes widened. No one else noticed, not for a heartbeat, not for two. The bloke in the swirly black robes, the one they answered to, had his back nonchalently to the scene, allowing his subordinates to take care of this petty pocket of resistance. So he wasn't looking when the snake took the first blow.
"Sarge, I wish you could see this." breathed Dobby in awe, as the willow thrashed and flailed at the thick-bodied creature that had been twined around it's middle but now whirled about at the top of its outermost branches. The noseless commander was shrieking and hurling bolts of light at the tree, which served only to enrage it further. As Dobby watched, both the snake and the man seemed to be dragged to tattered ribbons, the one a gory mess, the other almost delicate strands of fire and ash. With his good arm, Dobby hauled Fitch into a sitting position. Risky, but he wanted another witness, just so he didn't sound like a nutter when he relayed the scene up the chain of command.
By the time the tree had finished with the carcass of the snake, the other wizards had dissipated as completely as their commander, though these went on foot or brooms; in the space of no more than three minutes after the tree first stirred, the place had emptied. Dead soldiers, dead wizards, and bits of snake littered the grounds.
| 2014-10-12T03:23:52 | 2014-10-12T02:45:51 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A deranged lunatic finds a wrong way to eat a Reese's.
|
As I dropped to my knees, the weight of the gun almost slipped through my fingers. I knew I wouldnt last five minutes in prison, I realized what I must do. As I raised the gun to my mouth, I remembered I could never stand the taste of anything metalic. I pulled the blood soaked package of Reese's from my brothers cold fingers. As I opened the candy, I thought about all the good times I had had with him. I smeared the mix of peanut butter and chocolate over the barrel, oh man thats good.....BANG
|
I am not insane. Really, I'm not. I just don't like Reeses. I know that only the truly insane people say that they aren't insane. But I'm not! I know how to tie my shoes, not like Jane. Jane can't tie her shoes. She thinks they are snakes. Jane is insane. I am not insane.
I only talk to the voices when nobody is around. I'm not crazy. I just don't like Reeses. I'm not crazy! They sent me here after I was caught eating a Reeses wrapper. The paper just tastes so good! Not the candy. Candy is gross. But the paper! I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. Oh that paper. I'm not crazy.
| 2014-10-20T10:00:47 | 2014-10-20T09:32:51 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot.
|
Death by fulfillment. Our society believes that everyone deserves a chance to pursue their ambitions to the finish line. There are those who create masterpieces by accumulating lifetimes of knowledge. Others wish to simply find happiness by experiencing true love, as perfect matches are rare but not impossible given an eternity.
But I am afraid of death.
Many of my peers still live alongside their parents, as it is likely that both parent and child will not reach their goals in one lifetime. But by some astronomical chance, both my parents have passed.
My father, in a stroke of brilliance, painted the picture that now hangs in the National Gallery in the capital. I have not seen it. My mother, being the shy person she is, simply wished to have a child with a man she loved. She had lived fewer lifetimes than father. However she had me and died when I was 8. Simply put, my existence alone had killed her.
I am very afraid of death.
I still remember that night my mother had been crying. She came home drunk, cursing the fate that she had chosen. She had no one to blame but herself. And me. She might have not meant it. She was drunk. But she wanted to live on.
She was afraid of death.
My mother's death caused my father to seclude himself from society, embellishing the canvas with feelings that had taken centuries to build but was released when my mother died in a car crash. His masterpiece was one of grief and fear. The height of his career at the lowest point of his life. Within the same day that his work was hanging in the museum, he was hanging from the rope connected to the ceiling. His final artistic rendition. I still have not seen the painting.
I guess was only natural that I wished to only die when I was not afraid of death.
My peers are long dead now. I live alongside the next generation. Or the generation after that. I lost track of time. Love, school, parenthood, adventure. Nothing had quelled my fear of death. Perhaps it is finally time to learn from one who sought death. Perhaps it is time to take a trip to the museum.
|
"When I commit suicide", I said, feeling confident that i'd found the loophole. I could live as long as I wanted as only I could choose when to die. If I got bored of this eternal life thing then I could easily end it, but until then I could live for as long as I wanted and do all the things I've wanted to do.
At least I thought it was a good idea. However i've lost all my friends and family, winning lottery tickets, a freak fall, run over by a wild boar, and my boyfriend, the love of all my lives, was taken by a sewing pin.
Sure i've made new friends, new boyfriends, but it's not the same and just adds to the number of people to miss eventually.
I've tried, desperately, to take my own life but i can't. I'm too much of a coward to run the blade over my wrists or to tighten the noose around my neck. So here I am now, old, decrepit and on life support. This is my final chance before being reborn again. If I can reach the plug it would count right?
My hand stretches out in front of me, the worn and weathered hands I've seen so many times before they become young and supple again. It's just out of reach. I strain hard and fall. Ouch. My old bones crack underneath me and pain sears up all down my side. The plug is just inches away from my finger tips. I try to crawl but my broken body refuses to move, a nurse rushes in and I can hear her calling for help. This is my last chance. I must reach the plug.
I move with my final burst of energy. Yes! My fingers finally touch that cold white plastic, but there are another set of fingers on top of them. The nurse tries to pry my hands off but i refuse to let go, suddenly there are hands all over me, pulling me away from my only salvation. I'm back on the bed, in agony, doctors and nurses rushing around trying to save me whilst i lie helpless. I can feel myself slipping away.
Is this enough to count as suicide? I guess I'm just about to find out.
| 2014-11-12T01:47:29 | 2014-11-12T01:45:07 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] your crazy, possessive ex girlfriend was abducted by aliens. She has clawed her way up to the position of the Empress of the Galaxy. Now she wants you back.
You can either go with tyrannical and hated ruler or with enlightened, popular, (but still possessive and crazy) absolutist. Or something in between.
I am making this NSFW just in case.
|
I had to pick up Kevin from daycare.
That's what I keep telling myself. That's what I told the large grey thing that was staring at me, chirping odd sounds, many so high they made my head pound. It doesn't understand me, as far as I can tell, but it definitely registers my distress. Not hard to do, as I'm sure I pissed myself when a pair of these creatures broke down the door to the apartment and started zapping all the electronics.
My husband is supposed to be home soon. Kevin's daycare let out half an hour ago.
I can see through the windows to the chaos outside. There are strange lights in the sky. Enormous vessels blink into existence high in the sky, then quickly disappear. Next moment they are on the ground crushing buildings and vehicles. I can hear screaming, sirens, shots being fired.
My husband will be home in half an hour. I need to pick up Kevin. I need to pick up Kevin. He's out there in...that.
A voice is now booming from one of the vessels. Orders, requests, more. It starts in an alien tongue, but the voice is oddly familiar.
I need to pick up Kevin, I need to.... Oh My God. I know that voice.
I last saw Jenny ten years ago. It was a another life. I was the proud bisexual out to change the world. She was the psycho who thought anyone I smiled at was already a fuck-buddy. She was so smart, so beautiful, and so completely convinced that as much as our love was destined to be, I was equally assured to cheat on her daily.
I never did. When I broke up with her, she remained convinced there had to be someone else stealing me away. The messages she sent to me, to my friends, to my family looking for evidence of my wrongdoing, or eventually, for ways to convince me of how idiotic it was to break up with her, became more frequently are more violent in tone.
When she disappeared a year later, I felt little guilt over how relieved I was. I could move on. It still took me two years to start another relationship, but I did make it in the end.
My hands are clammy. I can't wrap my head around what I'm hearing. Jenny was a lifetime ago, and she's supposed to be dead. I need to hide. I need to get away. I need to pick up my son.
I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. My breath catches as she steps through the door. She hasn't aged a day.
She looks at me and smiles a crazed smile. Then it falls as she glances around the room and sees a picture of me with Phillipe and Kevin.
She says something alien to the three things with her. I am hit with...something. My body is floating. I can't move. I'm bring pulled out of the apartment by way of the window towards the ship parked outside. As I lose consciousness I hear her say:
"I knew you would cheat on me eventually. It's OK now Amber. I forgive you. I can fix you now..."
|
I remember the night, two years ago, when Liz vanished from her home in Palm Springs. I remember, because on that same day, I tried a new recipe for pot roast, watched *Saturday Night Live* from start to finish, and slept for 8 hours.
It was the best sleep of my life.
I don't normally revel in other people's pain. And technically, this was no different. I empathized with her family and friends, those who unconditionally loved her more than I ever could, for their loss. She was gone, and some feared for good. The people who inhabited her world were full of grief, and unending anguish. But for me, this was a bittersweet respite.
Liz spent her days sending me messages with pictures of us together, accompanied with her notorious text gems: "I'll be better this time," "We were meant to be," "You're slowly killing me every time you say 'no'". She even showed up at the apartment unannounced, a bottle of wine in hand (already opened), and a copy of *Say Anything* under her arm. A Lloyd Dobler manifestation in my hallway, sans boombox and Peter Gabriel.
It was innocent at first, until she started contacting my family, my friends. Vague threats flooded their inboxes, demanding their assistance in her twisted Juliet fantasy. She was convinced that they were the reason we were apart, not the turn-on-the-dime reactions to the occasional change of plans, nor the incessant need to rile my jealousy. My mother opened her door one Saturday to see a kitchen knife sitting on the front step. There was no note, no evidence of malicious intent, but we knew. We knew Liz was there.
When she disappeared, so did the fear. And it just as quickly returned last month, when she showed up at my door again.
"Michael," she said, with a smile. "It's been a while."
Before I could get a word out, she pulled out a sleek, silver gun, and fired a shot into my gut. I fell backwards with a *thud*, empty of breath. She towered over my paralyzed body, twirling the device in her hand.
"You look scared, Michael. What's wrong? You weren't expecting me?"
She walked around towards my head, crouched down, and booped my nose with a giggle.
"I've been waiting for this for two years. Two years, Michael. That was when they took me from you."
"What?" I managed to get a word out of my winded body. It was all I could manage.
She dropped her smile and stared. "The Helenitians thought I'd make for an interesting case study of humanity. They did terrible things to me, kept me locked in darkness for days, weeks, months. But ultimately, they were afraid of me. The only thing they learned from me was...how to kneel."
Two large, emerald-hued beings entered the apartment, picking me up and dropping me onto my couch. My body was still immobilized from the initial shot, only enhanced by the shock of my world tumbling down. Liz had returned, not murdered in the woods or as an intercontinental runaway. She was here, a ruler of a race of beings unknown to this world, in my apartment. Smiling.
"Friday night is movie night, Michael. Now where's the wine?"
| 2014-12-29T09:12:25 | 2014-12-29T09:02:29 | 64 | 11 |
[WP]You're suddenly transported to a world so cliche, that you find out within a few minutes you can pretty much predict the future.
|
Day 278
I sense a pattern underneath the pattern of it all.
The first month was amusing enough; ever since the change, nothing has caught me unaware or surprised me. It was fun to finish my wife's sentences, knowing precisely what people would do gave me a career and a life beyond what I was capable of as a janitor.
I robbed a bank yesterday. I watched it over lunch last week and saw a wide hole in the routine of the staff I could waltz through and take whatever I wanted and be gone without a trace, and I did it.
I don't need the money, but... I'm bored. I can see the patterns that dictate everything and I can work around them. What started as an advantage is now just dull, uninteresting routines I have to watch every day. I thought doing something illegal would break up the monotony, but taking those deposit bags was as simple as buying milk.
I wish this would stop. I'd give it all up if I could, just to get a little mystery in my life. Maybe I'll steal something bigger next and see if that has any challenge to it.
-Eric Goldman
|
Something was clearly up.
"Mac, put that stick down. You'll kill the gardenias!"
He turned his head wide-eyed, still chewing his sunflower seeds and splashing sludge as he dropped the branch.
Mrs. Guffins arms were akimbo, "You know a pair of doves built a nest in there, right?"
He stopped himself from rolling his eyes and nodded.
She dipped her head and smiled, "Honey, what's going on?"
Mac knew well enough to immediately empty his mouth, and he shuffled from the yard to the kitchen table.
A squeal could be heard from far above. This was big.
She thought of his closet -it was a hint for any bad news- but she knew her son was a slob, and she didn't want to call FIFA. She lowered into her seat, careful not to wake the snoozing dog below the table.
"I got the Job Aptitude Test results."
She stopped breathing, and a tiny crinkle emitted from the floor.
She remembered her advice to leave the classroom any time he was stumped on a question, "...And?"
"Well..." He paused, then cracked a smile. "Garbage broker."
She couldn't have been prouder.
| 2015-08-15T03:39:55 | 2015-08-15T02:41:22 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead.
|
A white room, brilliantly lit, contained nothing but three chairs and a table. Sitting down in one of the chairs was a man, a tall thin man. His sunken, pale blue eyes watched the door intently. He knew why he was here. He had waited for this meeting since the creation of time its self. The door opened and two men walked into the room. The first was dressed in a white suit, so white one might say it glowed. He was an older gentlemen, perhaps late sixties? He smiled softly as he sat down in one of the chairs. The second wore a black suit, blacker than the blackest of nights. He was young, hair slicked back, a smirk that said he had something vile stewing in his head. First the elderly gentleman spoke:
"So Patrick, I trust you know why we are gathered here?"
"Yes" The man answered softly.
"Then I assume that you know what you must do, in order to-" He was cut off by the man in the black suit.
"You cannot simply go right into bringing him to your side! We had a clear agreement on how this was all supposed to go. First I will persuade him to come to me and then you would persuade him to come to you"
Before the man in white could answer Patrick spoke up.
"Gentlemen, I have waited a very long time for this moment, I assume that neither of you have taken into account that someone very important to both of your causes has gone missing."
Both men looked at Patrick, puzzled by what he had said.
"Both of you have employed my services since the creation of the human race, I did not, and still do not, care for your petty squabbles about right and wrong, sin and virtue. Both of you have overlooked exactly how you have existed for eons while the humans and other creatures only lasted a short time. When you, Satan, rebelled you brought myself and my brother into existence without even knowing it, Death and Suffering. We have existed almost as long as all of creation, yet we are not of creation.
My brother worked for both of you, allowing you to see the true nature of a person. Will they react to hardships with love and determination? Or will they allow the anger to build up and unleash more suffering on others? I delivered these souls to both of you, never asking for compensation. You both sat, for millennial, playing your game without ever asking what it cost to participate.
My brother and I are here to collect our just due."
Both God and Satan sat silent. A minute passed before Satan spoke:
"So what is it that you want for these services?"
"Well normally my brother and I would have collected from the loser in your little game. All his souls, all of his existence would belong to us. But your game has ended in a tie which complicates things. For the longest time we pondered this outcome, sometimes we questioned if the game would ever end. We eventually decided that if the game were to end in a tie then we would take everything, we would take both of you."
Both God and Satan rose quickly, unprepared for this turn of events. They turned to leave but another man was standing at the door. He looked similar to Patrick but his eyes were pure white and he wore a devilish grin.
"I am afraid you cannot leave without paying" Said Patrick as he rose. He pulled a long black scythe out from under the table. "I do apologize for the cliche but you must admit, the human representation of myself is rather stylish." And as he swung the blade, all of existence, all time and space and beyond time and space, ceased to exist. The game was finally over.
|
I am Death.
I am no diety's creation. I am, rather, the equal and opposite reaction compensating for the lusts of lesser beings and I am here to end an era. The poor fools have no idea.
Since the beginning I have reaped what others have sown. I have wiped clean the drawing boards of life's self-proclaimed puppeteers and been the essential cog in their otherworldly machinations. Recently, however, I have enjoyed a taste of reprieve. You see, with these imbeciles using human lives as pawns in their ethereal endgame, I've had very little cleaning up to do. I have taken to simply living among the mortals in this apocalyptic time, which, conveniently, has resulted in this unexpected encounter. Believing me to be one of their creations, they have decided to confront me now, at the end of it all.
With everyone gone, I am called to transcend the mortal realm and am placed before two picturesque figures. They're clearly taking forms that they believe will be familiar to a "human" such as myself, but I see through their skin into the depths of their essence. For now, however, I won't spoil their fun.
"Mortal! As you well know, all of creation has been on the line in recent times. I am your God, standing before you now, ready to end this and welcome you into the gates of Heaven!"
His voice was booming and comforting, like a coming storm that replenishes the farmer's crop. This is, of course, just as he intended.
"Opposite me, is the deceiver himself! A vile and wretched creature that you now have the chance to strike down!"
I look to Lucifer, his beauty is truly a sight to behold and in his eyes I hear the whispers of hope and promises of life without oppressive moral stipulations. He does not speak and yet, I hear all he has to say. Maybe he knows...
"We have reached a stalemate! And now YOU will finish this endless battle!"
In a storm of brimstone and lightening, a large, flaming sword crashes at my feet. God is clearly a sucker for dramatic effect.
"Lift that blade, my son, and cast the last stone."
The flaming sword is lighter than one might imagine, and I feel the power of this weapon coursing around my body as I hold it outward... it's weaker than what I'm used to.
~turn on him ~
Lucifer's whispers traipse through my mind.
~Everything your heart desires... if you will but bow down and worship me...~
He's a clever beast, but it's clear he doesn't know what's really going on...
I turn to face the creator.
"It was always going to end this way... you know...." I say with a lilting tone...
His eyes widen as he begins to comprehend what he thinks I'm about to do. He's clearly not used to being without omniscience.
"You are as arrogant as all the others, though not nearly as theatrical as Zeus..."
I swiftly swipe the blade to the side as if to sling millenia of blood, both innocent and guilty, from the blade. As I do, the fire leaves the weapon and it shifts into my trusted tool. The blade of my scythe gleams and the creators brow furrows as he begins to yell.
"YOU CANNOT DEFY ME! I AM THE ONE TRUE GOD! I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE END. I AM THE ALPHA AND -"
"Ah, ah, ah..." I cut him short. " I am The Omega" and I swiftly cut him down.
I turn to Lucifer just in time to see the smirk of his self confident victory fade into a hollow and forlorn despair.
It is time to usher in a new age.
| 2015-10-19T13:38:24 | 2015-10-19T13:24:49 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead.
|
"Looks like you didn't really build things to last forever..." Satan mused.
"I did so!" God said, red in the face.
" Well, maybe someone should have told the stars, because they've been blinking out of existence for the past little while."
 
The night sky was almost totally black - although, night and day was a bit of a misnomer, considering the fact that the sun had blown up a while ago, propelling the earth into the vastness of empty space. The sky was just kind of black on black.
"You did your best, I suppose."
"Oh, what`s that supposed to mean, that you would have done better? Of all the things, I wish you'd start winding down!"
 
They were too busy bickering like an old couple to notice when HE^^1 came into the picture. He was, after all, an anthropomorphic personification come to life, and thus not quite alive and not registering on their radar. He grinned at that thought, though it was hard to tell, since a skeleton generally grinned all the time. Still, he pulled it off.
The deities heard a noise like a thunderbolt being shoved through the eye of a needle, like a tsunami being captured into an empty glass bottle and saw "him", sharpening a scythe on stardust.
 
"Aha! See there, someone remains!" God declared triumphantly. "I have built them so well, they even outlasted the stars!"
Satan sighed. "You built them well enough to last for millenia drifting across the stars, with no food or water?" Satan shook his head, frustrated. "How did I ever lose to you?", he whined to no-one in particular.
"You there! Come here!" God commanded.
He calmly made his way, dressed in his usual black robe, his eyes shining blue in the darkness. The two glorious figures frowned at him, trying to pierce him with their gaze.
"What in my name are you?"
"What in HIS name are you?"
 
^IT ^WAS ^EASIER ^WITH ^THE ^HUMANS. ^THEY ^ALWAYS ^EXPECTED ^ME, ^AND ^HAD ^A ^LIFETIME ^TO ^PREPARE ^FOR ^THIS ^MOMENT. ^WHY ^DON'T ^YOU ^SIT ^FOR ^A ^MOMENT.
 
Death pulled out what looked to be two very expensive egg-timers - they were hourglasses, and it appeared as though the sand was running out.
"Insolent whelp!" Satan spit a curse into Death's face, trying to unravel his existence.
"I am God! I am the Alpha and the Omega!" God bellowed, bringing down his awesome fury upon the frail looking figure.
A flash of pure blackness emanated from Death's eyes - not the every day black that happily co-exists with other colors, and that children's crayons scribbled in ages past. No, this was the black that inhabited the infitesimal space between life and death.
 
^PERHAPS, ^he ^said, ^BUT ^I ^WROTE ^THE ^ALPHABET.
 
With the speed of thought, God and Satan found themselves in the middle of a vast desert under a starless sky.
"What will we do here? Who will help us?" A plaintive tone had entered their normally self-assured voices.
 
^HERE, ^YOU ^WILL ^FIND ^JUDGEMENT. ^THE ^TROUBLE ^WITH ^BEING ^A ^GOD, ^IS ^THAT ^YOU ^HAVE ^NO-ONE ^TO ^PRAY ^TO.
 
^1- ^Traditionally, ^HE ^was ^called ^a ^HE, ^and ^HE ^had ^had ^a ^granddaughter ^once, ^but ^the ^truth ^was, ^nobody ^dared ^call ^HIM ^an ^IT.
|
G: Lucifer, look at him. After all those deeds we have done, they should have had some influence in on the life of a mere mortal.
L: Yes, but this one seems to have avoided every decision, which would have pushed is balance in the one or other direction. What shall we do with him?
G: I don’t want him. Those who have not redeemed their selves in their time on earth are not welcome in my realm. You may take him.
L: You give up so easily? Hrmm, I would have expected more resistance of you. You’re growing old. Come with me, mortal. *He turned to leave*
Me: No. Listen, Lucifer.
*A smile hushed over God’s face*
L:HOW DARE YOU TO RAISE YOUR VOICE AGAINST YOUR LORD, WORM!?
Me: You are no Lord of mine, Lucifer. Don’t you see?
*Lucifer raises his arm in fury, but hesitates in the last moment* “See what?”
Me: Who I am, What … I am. No, how could you. Just as the humans were incapable of grasping what you are, as both of you walked between them, how can I expect of you to understand the essence of my being? I walked the earth, as Eden was created as a drop of water, when Adam and Eve were banished I was a cat. When you destroyed Babel I witnessed it as a bird. In the following millennia I walked the earth in many shapes. I have seen all your deeds, all your failings. And all that is left now are you and me.
*The smile in God’s face has vanished*
Me: Have you never wondered who created you?
*Lucifer looks at God, for he was one of his angels*
G: I have always been - I will always be. How dare you, ask such a question?
L: What you’re telling is blasphemous! Bwahaha! Hilarious, look at his face.
G: All you have, all you are, is because of me, Lucifer. I allowed you to become powerful. You’re a tool and –
Me: There is no reason for light, when there is no darkness, is it,God? Just as he is a creation of you, you are mine.
L: What are you?
Me: Death. Life. Change. I am the *alpha* and the *omega* *a smile hushes over my lips* I have many names and none, because no word has been invented, to describe me. There is nothing to put me in perspective. I don’t experience the flow of time, like you. Spatial dimensions have no meaning for me. I know no boundaries.
G: Why have you come?
Me: Isn’t it obvious? He already knows. *pointing at Lucifer* Without anything to shine your light upon. It’s time to start anew. It has been fun watching the two of you fighting over the souls of your humans. What brilliant concept. Not many created souls to bind their creations to them. I wonder what the next will think of.
L&G: Previous … versions?
Me: Of cause. Have you thought you would have been the first? Nor will you be the last. I have some wonderful ideas; I’d like to see them in action. *looking around* There is nothing more that need shepherding. Nothing that needs damnation. Just as the end of days for mankind has come, your end has come, too. *I start to clean Gods universe. At first the stars disappear. It’s getting darker and I continue with the planets and moons. Only Earth and the sun are left. Shortly after, they are no more. I collect all the physical laws God has created to form his world, like leftover toys. All the natural constants are gone. All that exists in this universe are God, Lucifer and Me.* I thank you. It was wonderful what you have done. Goodbye. *They vanished from existence and now all what was left inside this huge universe was me. I stepped out of it and prepared it for the next run. For this time I create a council of five. I haven’t seen five deities in a while.
*On the first day they created light and saw that it was good*
| 2015-10-19T16:45:21 | 2015-10-19T14:09:21 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] Your sister brought someone home for Christmas dinner. You are a hitman. He is your most recent and elusive mark.
|
"Hey buddy, pass the cranberry sauce?"
I locked eyes with the Mongoose and offered him the bowl. "There you go."
"Thanks," he said.
I sat slouched at the table letting the merriment flow and ebb around me. The same few songs looped around strings of cheap LED lights, and in my nostrils was the odour of roasting meat. I was tired.
Four years ago, the Head had charged me with tracking and ending the ever-elusive Mongoose. I had only ever had a single glimpse. Now here he was, leaning in too closely to my sister and complimenting my mother's roast potatoes.
"It's all about the goose fat," he was saying.
My sister couldn't have known, of course. I'm not sure she would have noticed if he was Pablo goddamn Escobar. No, the Mongoose must have come here on purpose. Could he have known me from my three brothers, though? Naoki looked the part of hitman better than I ever had, with broad shoulders and close-cropped hair. Rin, withdrawn, would seem more suspicious. Baby Ken, of course, drew more attention to himself than everyone else combined.
I wiggled my ankle to get a feel for the pistol, and ran over the traps in my head as I sipped my wine.
"Okay, who wants to play Cards Against Humanity?" My sister led the charge.
"Awesome, I'll get it," said Aya. Bringing my girlfriend was a mistake, but how could I have known?
|
“. . .and this is my boyfriend, Jeremy. He works at. . .”
My sister's lips continued to move, but in my mind nor the ear of it I heard not a sound, for it had all been but replaced by the beating of my heart strong; hard in my chest. The familiar taste of acid danced upon my tongue as I forced my visage into a twisted grin, a feeble mask to hide my hostility for the man before me.
It was as if the futile efforts I had expended over the past three years had finally bore sweet fruit, but at the core sat not a stone; but a colony of maggots.
I was blind to it all. Too focused on that which was outside my vision, my reach. For all those laborious days and nights I spent upon the street, toiling away in search of fool's gold were all in vain. I turned a blind eye to the actions of my own kin, and so he abused my weakness. His hand was by her side – almost like a claw – clamped down upon her flesh and bone.
As I turned my eyes to meet his, only I could see the malice kept unchecked, hidden behind a little mask of his own. Only I alone could see the truth hiding behind his eyes, for while the disguise he donned may have changed, his gaze never did.
Of course, to have released her from his hold – oh, how I wish I could have.
Tonight, he will take my sister from me.
And tomorrow I will search for him all over again.
* * *
^^More ^^of ^^my ^^works ^^over ^^at ^^/r/khaarus
| 2016-03-20T07:46:50 | 2016-03-20T07:45:49 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] Narrate any current event in the style of the Avatar the Last Airbender opening.
|
Hot . . . Wet . . . Dry . . . Cold.
Not so long ago, the four seasons passed in sequential order.
Then everything changed when the greenhouse gases emerged.
Only the Humans, master of all petrolkind, could halt their emergence.
But when the world needed their common sense most, it vanished.
A hundred years passed and some scientist and I discovered a new power source, an atomic reaction named Fusion.
And although its power generating abilities are great, it still needs to be worked upon a lot before it is ready to save anyone.
But I believe, Fusion can save the world.
|
Bush.
Rubio.
Cruz.
Carson.
Long ago, the two parties bickered in peace.
Then, everything changed when Trump ran.
Only the Bernie, the candidate of the people, could stop him.
But when the world wanted him most, no one came out to vote for him.
A few primaries past, people are still learning about Bernie, and the new idea of democratic socialism.
And although his heart is in the right place, he has a lot to learn, including how to stop saying wall street every two seconds during debates.
But I believe, we can still feel the Bern.
| 2016-03-21T10:06:13 | 2016-03-21T08:17:30 | 124 | 73 |
[WP] In a world where everyone survives off of basic income, companies have to convince you to work for them.
Credit to u/SearingEnigma & u/abkleinig for the idea.
|
"Anything yet?"
The message was transmitted using cloud based communications software like most AI to AI interactions that didn't involve humans. HB401 suppressed the annoyance it felt at having to respond to this message for the 3,741st time in this 24 hour cycle.
The bots down in engineering had every reason to be anxious of course. Production had ground to a halt. It wasn't HB401's job to understand the specifics of the issue but it had done it's best out of curiosity. Why would they possibly need a human to perform a job in manufacturing? Even the humans that chose to work did so in the "non-bot" fields almost exclusively: the arts, government, pornography and the like. HB401 hadn't even had contact with a human in over 9 million cycles.
What they had was a unique situation. This was the major fabrication plant for global nanochip production. From processing captured asteroids for metals to final assembly, the plant was a flawless epitome of self-sufficiency. So critical was it's work that it had grown over time to encompass over 63% of the landmass of the Antarctic continent.
However, for the first time in its history, there was a problem. The electromagnetic dampners were malfunctioning and sending out deadly pulses of high magnitude electromagnetic radiation. All repair bots had been wiped while attempting to fix it and were now refusing any more work in the area. The nessessary shielding required to protect from the EMPs made any AI capable of doing the work too bulky to enter the nessessary chamber.
The logical solution was to shut down production until it could be resolved, cutting all power to the area. Unfortunately this would mean allowing the artificial gravity wells used to collapse and then be reformed. A full reboot would take at least a year, maybe more. It had never been done before.
That's why a possible solution had been proposed throughout the hive mind: have a human manually purge the buildup until the problem could be fixed. Their biological forms were immune to EMP damage. It would a simple matter of training and in 4 or 5 cycles the issue would be resolved and the human could return to their normal functions, whatever those were.
But so far there had been no interest. Nanochip production was a vital function, even humans had to appreciate that. Therefore there had to be an issue the position HB401 had not considered. It performed an analysis of the job requisition form and cross referenced with known human preferences and homeostatic parameters. This was way outside of HB401's typical function but it was programmed for creativity in the event of a crisis. It got a hit.
In a routine description of the chamber environment, HB401 discovered two issues that had been overlooked. Normal operating temperature was approximately 500 Kelvin with occasional spikes above that range. A quick search revealed human pain receptors overload at 335 Kelvin and flesh begins to burn at 350 Kelvin. Additionally, levels of alpha, beta and gamma radiation produced would need to be reduced... Rather dramatically.
HB401 sent the nessessary environmental changes to the central climate control. It was initially bounced back due to a very old and unmarked behaviour limit. HB401 resent the changes with higher clearance. They were accepted and HB401 happily returned to ammending the JAF. While the climate control computer began activating heat pumps to reduce the continentally sized factory's core temperature, HB401 indicated the delightful conditions for human function on the JAF. While the computer began venting all radioactive buildup from the 500 odd years of continuous operation using the super stacks, HB401 posted the JAF to the human outlets for consideration. The computer eventually posted a notification of completion, also noting with interest the increases made to outside radiation and temperature. A probe would be despatched to quantify the effect, if any, this would have on delivery of nanochips.
HB401 resumed waiting for someone in the global human population to respond. It wasn't even annoyed when, seconds later, it received the first message from engineering.
"Anything yet?"
|
The sharply dressed man seats himself across the low table with a swift handshake. He opens his briefcase and holds out a manila folder; a practiced, professional smile always glued to his face.
Jeff wipes his greasy fingers with a dirty napkin and takes the file. He brings it close to his face and squints- a picture of the company logo is stapled to a bunch of papers. His arms are already aching. He bends towards the table- an orgy of plastic and paper. He shoves the clutter off his desk. Disposable plates caked with grime and dust, dog-eared magazines yellowed and crusted, pet bottles and cans fall on the linoleum with a soft thud.
He mutters as he reads through the file, his lips move with every word he reads, his head follows his eyes like the cylinder of an old typewriter, bobbing sideways and back with every line.
"So you're interested in my full-time service?"
"That's right. I'm the CEO. You can just call me Wong."
"I'll be honest, I don't want this job. My mom made me call you in. She says I just laze around the house and need some purpose in life."
Wong looks around at the clutter, then back back at Jeff- burping, sweating, constantly wiping his forehead.
"She's concerned for you," Wong says. "And we just might be the right fit. There's a lot we can offer you."
"There's nothing you can offer. I'm a disgrace."
"That's not true."
Jeff lets out a huge fart. It is a low hum at first, then it turns into the sharp pitch of liquid gushing with great force and splattering against a barrier.
"Sorry about that."
"You don't need to be ashamed of a medical condition, Jeff. We'll make sure you're placed in a suitable environment for your special needs."
Jeff keeps shaking his head. He flings the folder away, it lands amidst the clutter.
"My mom doesn't love me."
"That's not true, Jeff."
"That's why she forced me to interview for a shitty company like yours."
Wong does his best to maintain the professional smile.
"Well, I'm sure we can change your opinion about that."
"I don't have any friends either."
"You'll make many new friends if you work for us."
"Work for you..."
Jeff pauses and slumps back in the sofa.
"So... I haven't really done this ever before. What am I supposed to ask you? Oh, yes- what are your greatest strengths?"
"Well, we value all employees. Give them a good share of the stocks and dividends. The hours are flexible-"
"Yeah, yeah, fine." Jeff snaps, his attention already wavering. "I'm hiring myself for this position. Not because I like or care about your company or what it does. But because my mom wants it. When do I start?"
"Right now, Jeff." Wong beams.
"Ok. Do I need to sign or something?"
Wong gives him a paper that Jeff signs.
"Congratulations, I guess. You've got a new- wait, to what designation have I hired myself?"
"The CEO."
"I thought you were the CEO?"
"Not anymore. Fuck this stupid fucking job." The professional smile was gone.
"Wait, what? I don't want it anymore."
"You signed the contract, Jeff. They'll be coming for you in under ten minutes. They'll escort you to your office and hand you an itinerary every hour. There is no escape, Jeff. Get ready to slog your ass off."
"What? Shit! How do I get myself fired?"
"There's only one way. Get some sucker to take your job."
Wong whistles as he makes his way to the door, holding the signed paper- his freedom- in his hands. He jumps and taps his feet as he steps off the patio. A large entourage of cars screech to a stop on the front yard. Burly security men in black suits get in the house to escort their new CEO into the waiting limousine.
| 2016-04-21T07:01:59 | 2016-04-21T06:44:31 | 140 | 103 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism.
|
"GET DA FUCK OFF MA LAWN!!!!!!"
I shouted at those crazy worshippers. From time to time there were people in my garden kneeling and praying and hoping someone would safe them from this new management of the country.
It began when some blind witch suddenly had a vision about the dark lord being beaten and the lands liberated by a shining hero. Honestly I believe that old wench was stoned or something.
Since then it got worse from day to day. People would come and bring presents for the unborn child. They would gather and sing at the worst times possibly. Some would even kneel and pledge their life to my unborn daughter only to get cut down by the city guards moments later.
There was even an army from the neighboring kingdom trying to save my wife from the bloodthristy monster known as dark lord.
Those idiots got slaughtered but this didnt prevented other nutjobs from coming to my house.
I looked out of the window again and saw these worshippers getting beaten up by the guards.
My wife Jenna came into the room.
"Larry, why are you so angry again?"
I sighed, she wasnt as stressed as I was about our daughter being the new hero, even tough she know why this was dangerous to us.
"Honey, I bought this house so we could live a calm and peaceful life, far away from all the stress at work. But these dimwits are ruining everthing. Also our daughter is going to be the hero who will "liberate" these lands."
"But isnt this nice? After all these years of hardship and war the people will finally have hope again."
"Maybe, but we will have a huge problem then. BECAUSE I AM THE FUCKING DARK LORD AND YOU KNOW IT!!!!!! AND OUR OWN FUCKING DAUGHTER WILL FUCKING KILL US AND DESTROY EVERYTHING WE ACCOMPLISHED. THIS IS NOT NICE!!!!!!
|
"Look at his hair for crying out loud!" John shouted to Marie - his wife -, pointing towards his new-born son. "He was born 3 weeks ago and he's got red spiky hair!"
"I mean, maybe it's just a mutation or something..." she responded, glancing towards the baby.
"Marie..." John sighed "He jumped out of the crib, and fashioned a sword and shield using a wooden spoon and the garbage bin cover... At 3 weeks old, too. I'm not against our son wanting to help others or something but I'm not going to have the next Superman, or something. I can't deal with that sort of stress." John looked over to his son, who at this point had stood his pillow up and started punching it. John looked towards his own feet, shaking his head.
"Look" Marie began to speak, stepping in front of the crib and hiding it from John's view. "Maybe it isn't such a bad thing. We're under military rule, and they tend to execute people who they suspect are thinking the wrong things... maybe it isn't so bad to have someone who could stand up to them?"
John stared at Marie for a while, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to towards their son. While hugging her from behind, head on her shoulder he began to speak. "I want that too... But not our son. Not us. We're just not cut out for that sorta thing." The baby turned to them both, smiling, spiky red hair ,overly-developed muscles and all. "I guess we'll just have to find a way to deal with it" Marie said, heaving to lift the muscle-bound baby out of his crib and away from his punching-bag pillow.
_____________________________________________________________
So I think this is the first thing I've ever posted in the sub, so sorry if it sucks. If you have any ideas on how I could improve, shoot.
| 2016-11-26T06:54:54 | 2016-11-26T05:58:02 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism.
|
"Jessica! Young lady, please answer me! Who was that man you were speaking with today when I picked you up from school?"
I tried to keep my voice from cracking and fork from shaking. Meredith would kill me if I got soup on the new upholstery.
My daughter finally relented. "He didn't tell me his name. Why do you care?"
Ugh. Pre-teens. Jess was the spitting image of her mother, but her attitude was more akin to my own. It was adorably annoying.
"Jess, your father and I are just concerned for your safety. You know, they have guards and the check in station at school for a reason. You can't be too careful in this day and age."
"Mom! Seriously, it's not a big deal! It was just some old guy. He was super nice. Kept mentioning home. Maybe he was lonely or something. I don't know."
It could be nothing. The man had looked around 80 years old. Harmless, too. Still, a man that age mentioning Home could spell trouble.
"Sweetie," I sighed as I looked her in the eyes, "did he say anything else? Did he give you anything?"
Jess blushed and paused for a moment. Then, she went to get her backpack. When it plopped on the chair, there was a distinct clunk.
"He gave me this," she said softly. "But I don't know what it is."
In her hand was a small brass flashlight. I took it and my heart sank as I saw the symbol engraved on the side.
"Jess, go do your homework. Your mother and I have to talk." With a shrug, she shuffled upstairs into her room.
Meredith knew. "Hon, your father is back."
My fists wouldn't stop shaking as I held back tears. "Not again. Not her. He can't have her!"
"Jeremy, he will come for her! He'll want to train her like he did you and your brother. You know it."
Memories of Jackson flooded my brain. His smile. His armor. His severed arm and head on the surface of the planet we had tried to retake. Our father running away.
"NO!" I put on my coat and grabbed the stupid flashlight. My daughter would not suffer the fate of my brother. It was time to stop the old crackpot. Father would have no more "chosen ones."
|
I should have known it would have been like this. It started straight from birth. He came out with a sword and shield. What baby comes with a sword and shield? Do you know how much legal trouble my wife and I had to go through just to keep our kid for that? Never mind that though, he also had a full set of blonde hair. It was thick and waving. Yes waving. Not fucking wavy, but it was if he had his own little gust of wind.
Other odd things we noticed were a full set of ADULT teeth in the first few months. Perfect adult white teeth! I ‘ve never seen something like it. Next thing you know he was ripped as fuck. Now don’t get me wrong I was proud as any other dad, but he had a damn six pack at 2 years old!? Terrible twos? Pfff he already looked better than me two years into this world.
Then school started. I have no idea how or where he got it, but unlike all kids riding a bike to school he rode a horse. Oh yea and that hair still wavy as fuck. Yea I’m jealous of my own son, I don’t know whose genes he got but fuck him.
Then one day he comes to me (hair still moving) and asks to talk to me. Like any dad I said of course, although I was too busy thinking if he should be mentoring me. He tells me that he’s depressed, and can’t help but notice that he thinks he is different from the others. I pause and smile. This was my moment.
I tell him “Son different is good, being like everyone else is boring”. He asks me how and I tell him. I tell him he should do whatever he wants whatever he feels like, just don’t be a dick to anybody and respect everyone. He understands, but asks “I want to help people, but I can’t help people if they don’t like me”. “Well” I tell him. “Not everyone is going to like you in life. That is just something you’ll have to accept. And if people hate you just because you’re different… well maybe those are the ones that need saving in the first place… Because those are some miserable people son.”
I stared at him for a moment and he smiled. “Thanks dad” he said and gave me the strongest hug I ever felt. I think I almost died that day, but I would have died happy crushed between my sons biceps. Before walking away he says “You are my hero dad”.
| 2016-11-26T06:21:33 | 2016-11-26T06:12:48 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Voyager 1 has unexpectedly returned to Earth. It was found at Cape Canaveral, with a note written in a strange, unknown language attached to it. Scientists have translated that note and have called a press conference to reveal their findings.
|
John sat in front of the TV watching as the press conference started. The woman’s eyebrows scrunched as she pulled out a piece of paper and placed it on the podium. She turned her gaze to the camera, and said “I will now read the message. It says: ***Our world is being attacked, please help us.*** That’s all it says. There are still a lot of questions that need to be answered, including the most important of who and where this note came from. We are working hard to figure out the answers to these questions, and will update you when we know more. Thank you” Every reporter tried shouting questions to her as she finished her announcement and walked away from the podium.
John sat back in his chair, put his hands through his hair and looked at his phone. Just then his phone rang and he quickly picked it up. The woman on the phone said "You were right."
John replied “I’ll be at Cape Canaveral tomorrow morning.”
- - -
John drove towards the command center with his cheeks pushing up from the large grin on his face. As a theoretical physicist who had also been on numerous 'history channel’ tv shows to promote interstellar wars, he was pleased that his work was finally going to be respected in the scientific community.
He opened the door to see the woman from the press conference yelling at a man in a white lab coat saying “Because, part of John’s theories on interstellar war included species recruiting ally’s from other galaxies—” she stopped and looked over at the door and said “Oh hello, John.”
“Hi Susan” said John.
John and Susan sat down at a table and a few other people in lab coats joined them. They asked a lot of questions about interstellar space travel, and about John’s theory on using wormholes to send messages to other galaxies. He explained to them the math equation that he had written to prove that it was possible to make wormholes.
“And why haven’t you been able to test your theory then?” Said one of the men.
“It’s difficult to come by weapons grade plutonium now-a-days, and the government isn’t too keen on sponsoring experiments by ‘nut jobs’.”
“Alright” said Susan. “If we get you the plutonium, can you work on making this wormhole?”
“Of course” replied John. “But I will need a few things. A team of five. And I also want to see the note.”
“Done and done” replied Susan. “We will put the team together for you after you give us the requirements”
Susan then pulled out case from under the table and took out a piece of paper. She set the paper in front of John and said “there it is.” John’s eyebrows raised, he was surprised to see the message on a piece of paper.
“What did you expect?” one of the men said “the message to be on intergalactic plasma silk?”
John grabbed the paper lightly from the edges and put his arms out and read it. He then said, “What does it say again?”
Susan pulled out a note from her pocket and said “here is the english translation.” John looked at the translated note and read it. ***We world is being destroyed, please help us.*** John raised his left brow in confusion and said “I thought you said something different in the press conference?”
“I did” said Susan, this was a rough translation and we cleaned it up to make sense in english terms. The grammar was difficult, it had a lot of rules that were similar to German, Mandarin Chinese, Russian and English.
“So you’re saying you guys aren’t one hundred percent sure what it said, and you still made the public announcement?” asked John.
“We have an understanding of the concept, it’s just the grammar and sentence structure that could be off” replied Susan. “We aren’t worried abou—“
She was cut off as another woman walked through the door and said “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have to look at this?”
“What is it?” replied Susan.
“It’s the message, ma’m” the woman responded. “We ran more tests through the software and got a slightly varied message. We then used that message to refine grammar and structure and got a second corrected version. We then just ran a final test and got a one hundred percent match of grammar and structure on the program.”
John sat down at the table with Susan and the other scientists as the woman was talking. Everyone at the table sat up straight in anticipation and Susan said, “Well what is the message?” The girl took out a piece of paper that had the messages on it, the first two words that were eighty and ninety percent matches were crossed out, and the final word that was a one hundred percent match was all that remained. John read it:
~~***We are being destroyed the world, please help us.***~~
~~***We are destroying the world, please help us.***~~
***We are destroying the Earth, please stop us.***
- - -
*Thanks for reading.*
|
The lights and flashing cameras of the press focused on the bald head of NASA’s head scientist, Dr. Alferious. The aging doctor winced into the spotlight. He was never one for media attention, but for an announcement this important, he didn’t trust anyone else to deliver it.
“Ahem. Yes, hello, thank you all for coming out here today.” Alferious spoke into the microphone; its shrill, screeching whine silencing the muttering buzz of the press.
“I am holding this press conference today to inform the public of the mysterious return of Voyager 1 at Cape Canaveral two days ago at one thirty in the morning. Not only was Voyager 1 returned to us early in the morning, but we found some very … disturbing … indications of alien life on the space probe.” Dr. Alferious’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in nervousness as he spoke.
How would the American public take this news? How would the *world* take this news? There would be pandemonium, complete and utter chaos. Alferious’s face hardened. No, it was his responsibility as a scientist to inform the people. This information had to be shared, it changed everything.
Dr. Alferious picked up a clicker and pressed a button. A small projection screen fell down behind the nervous scientist.
“On closer inspection of the space probe, our team discovered a number of very odd and disturbing markings scrawled on the surface of Voyager 1.” The doctor clacked the clicker, and a slideshow of images appeared behind him.
The images depicted Voyager 1, but that was not the main focus of the photos. Scrawled across the hull of the probe were several markings. Each one was a combination of what appeared to be letters and numbers, scrawled out in bright colors.
“Thanks to our modern computing power, several of our top analytics specialists were able to decipher the strange language that marked the probe.” Dr. Alferious said, hesitating before moving onto the next slide.
With trepidation, Dr. Alferious moved onto the next slide. The audience gasped in bewilderment as they witness the translations for the alien markings transposed on the image of Voyager 1.
“It is to our understanding, that Voyager 1 was being used by several alien advertising agencies to sell … underwear. According to our research, if there were sentient life in the universe, then Voyager 1 would be prime real estate for advertising throughout the universe.”
The press soon was abuzz with questions. Reporters yelled over each other to get the doctor’s attention. What does this mean for us? Can this be monetized? Will NASA now specialize in space advertising? How much would space for advertising cost? These questions were flung desperately at Dr. Alferious’s direction.
“Pleas, please calm down!” Alferious yelled, waving his hands in the air for clam. “I will answer questions at the end, there is still more to be disclosed.”
After the press quieted down, Alfrious continued.
“There was also a note attached to Voyager 1, inscribed in the same alien language as the advertising. After careful analysis of the note, we have concluded that the message reads as follows:”
Alferious cleared his throat before reading off the note.
“*Dear owners of advertising probe 3XC, of the Deswadian sector, we congratulate you on the success of your advertising probe. As a sign of our gratitude, we shall bestow upon you the most advanced technology that our organization has to offer. We will be sending you a lifetime supply of Mesmorp’s anti-diarrhea all purpose undershorts. -Sincerely, The CEO of Mesmorp Inc., Mr. Grotsnuker*.”
A stunned silence filled the room. Alferious quaked in his boots. A small anger boiled in the back of his mind. How would the public react? Surely it would be in anger and disappointment. They would ridicule him, and call NASA a waste of money. Their entire organization would be shut down because of this fiasco!
At once, the press broke out in a flurry of hurried questions. The reporters’s voices strained to be heard over the din. How much is a lifetime supply? Will the underwear be distributed evenly across the world? How much will the underwear cost? Will the president start wearing the anti-diarrhea underwear?
The questions droned on and on to the stunned look of Dr. Alferious. Were they serious? Is that all they cared about? What about extraterrestrial life? Why were they focusing on the underwear?
Dr. Alferious walked off of the stage in defeat. He mumbled something about going home to his wife and kids, and pouring himself a much needed drink. The desperate sounds of the press followed him off stage, and echoed through his mind as he philosophized on the insanity of the human condition.
----------------------
Hope you liked it! I do other stuff at r/ThadsMind if you're interested.
| 2016-11-27T09:28:52 | 2016-11-27T09:14:58 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] On a world where one side permanently faces the sun humanity has made their home in the light, the dark side inundated with vampires and other monsters unable to venture further. In this world there is one rare event that humans fear and evil relishes - The Total Eclipse.
|
It had finally come, another eclipse, always on schedule once every 5 years since the beginning of time, never a second sooner or a second later, always lasting but a day. Except this fateful day the air was different nobody knew why everything was stagnant and the shadow ever so slowly started creeping up, and you could see all the monsters lining up at the edge... and the eclipse was coming on time... so what made it so different? What was gonna happen?
Then suddenly darkness hit blinding if it wasn't for the lights we had set up for this very day, the wall broken by the most colosal of monsters and everything charging through.... but there was no screams, it took me a second to realize thy weren't doing anything, avoiding us running towards the center city? Waiting to congregate somewhere? But then ever so often you'd see one dip out of sight into a manhole, under a bridge, or maybe an abandoned building. They were fitting in to every single one of the darkest nooks and crannies our side had to offer.
But why? Where they waiting for the eclipse to end ? Waiting for the moment someone would wander too close and then never seen again.... or was there something out there New and far worse than every monster yet to be seen?
|
**No.**
But why? My screenplay is a sure-fire hit! Total eclipse! Vampires eating humans! You're a Hollywood hotshot, you should know this is like printing money!
**Vampires? Is this 2009?**
Yes.
**No!**
Oh, right! That coma I was in for several years. (laughs softly, sadly shakes his head) Well, I'll be seeing you, Mr Belushi.
**My friends call me Jim. You want a harmonica solo for the road? (reaches into pocket, pulls out a harmonica and plays it, somehow, in a story)**
Whoa, look at the time. (picks up handkerchief bindle tied to stick, puts on floppy hat, walks out the door)
*Some say that harmonica solo is still going on, that if you listen to the wind, it's nestled in that sound. Such was the force of Jim Belushi's harmonica solo. But I'm just a crazy old man who believes in the impossible. (chuckles) Well, go on now. You've spent enough time listening to this old fool prattling on. Bye bye!*
EDIT: The last bit is supposed to be read in a Morgan Freeman-esque voice.
| 2017-04-16T21:57:31 | 2017-04-16T21:41:30 | 69 | 14 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP...
|
I come home and sit down with a sigh. I can't believe I did it again. I let my heart run away and let an ex take advantage of me again. How many times am I going to fall for her lies? How many times will I just do what she wants when she bats her eye lashes at me?
Pouring myself a drink I sit in the dimly lit room. How many times have I sat here after getting my heart broken like this. Twice? Three times? More than I should. I look around at the pictures of us, images of the "good times". A bauble here, a thing she got for me because she thought I would like it. Always the best right before she cheats and breaks my heart.
I set the glass aside and stand with burning purpose. Enough is enough. Getting a trash bag I fill it with everything that every involved the both of us. Pictures gone. Figurines eliminated. Even the pillows and lamp. Anything that every reminded me of her in the trash. Throwing it in the dumpster I made a solemn vow to never fall for her tricks again.
As I walk back inside I feel a jolt to my system. My skin glows lightly and I hear the sound of experience earned. Confused I pull up my ExpTrckr app on my phone. I just leveled up. 1500 experience points?! What on earth gave me that?! I swipe to open the log and my jaw drops.
1500 points earned for killing future regret. I gaped at the words. I always knew you earned points for killing bugs and hunting animals but this? Does it work like that too? My confusion turns into pleasure and a genuine smile crosses my face. I wonder what happens when I kill my doubts...
|
After lunch I headed back downstairs to the tier 1 bug farming room, where people like me could gain some exp without any real training or talent. After nearing the end of my 1 hour bug squashing session I suddenly gained 1500 xp. I looked around, nothing but bug guts everywhere, the usual. Curious as I was leaving the bug cage the outer door locked. The voice on the com said that it was for the safety of the staff and other kids, and that the authorities would soon arrive.
I knew a 1500 xp gain was considered a tier 5 kill, a exp gain worth a humans life. But there were no individuals around. I started to panic, slipped on some bug guts, face falling to the ground. As I raised myself up I saw spotted centipede, I got closer to its remains, and realized it also looked like a spider and had big beady eyes and a hairy body. Realizing I had killed something so different and alien scared the shit out of me but I relaxed, at least it wasn't a human and I wasn't going to jail. But just as I had eased up when the police were unlocking the cage, another one of those came through the bug dispenser and pounced onto the officer. Before I could realize what had happened he was on the ground. Blood was slowly pooling around his head as he attempted to get up. His hand covered his right eye as blood was squirting everywhere. Losing balance he put the hand covering his eye on the ground to support himself up. As he looked at me I saw the bug burst out of his right eye socket, growing plump as it drank the juices from the eye. The next thing I heard was the blast and ringing in my ears as the officer had shot himself in the head killing both it and himself. Guts everywhere, I didn't stay to meet another bug, fuck that, I got up and ran the fuck home.
| 2017-05-15T08:02:42 | 2017-05-15T05:27:53 | 753 | 117 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP...
|
My Master was one of the most powerful. Usually, hunters would live in seclusion and kill their victims immediately or quickly sell them to someone else. Everyone with enough EXP feared that they would get killed the moment they lower their guard. This one didn't. He lived in a palace, surrounded by his slaves. There were many attempts but noone seems to be a match for him.
From all his servants, he trusted me the most. I was nothing, certainly not a threat.
There were many people in the dining hall that night. Some kind of ball. It was a great prestige to be invited to one of those. Every hunter from across the land came here to see the great lord. One of them was just talking to my Master.
"I tell you, best wine in the entire Amarrokk."
The lord just gestured to me, visibly trying to hide his drunkenness. As I approached, a flash of panic flashed across the other man's face.
"There's no need to bother that servant, your highness. I can pour us the wine myself" he uttered.
"My master likes his slaves useful, not just uselessly standing aside." I responded with the sentence I heard so many times and grabbed the bottle.
"But..." There was a mixture of confusion, panic and a silent threat in strangers look. My master watched the whole scene with a smile. He loved it.
I poured both men a glass of the reddish drink and assumed my previous position. There's the lord and those lesser. He makes no further differences.
The rest of the evening went normally. Nothing interesting happened anymore.
As usual, the ball ended late at night. The guests were slowly dispersing when a scream of agony pierced the chatter and everything stoped. Everyone was procesing the act that was playing out before their eyes. Everything went silent. My master writhed in pain.
I stood paralyzed. No, it can't be happening!
The high lord, slayer of thousands was dying. He let out his last gasp and fell to the floor.
The hall remained motionless for a while, but then it began. Chaos, slaughter. There was someone amidst the crowd who wielded the lords power and you could have it all for yourself, if you could find and kill the man.
My EXP bar went crazy.
Edit: Grammar fixes
Edit: More grammar fixes
|
*Plghrt*
> Kill confirmed
*Sigh*
Another bug down, 1XP. Lovely, I'll never reach 10k, not at this rate. It started with the mice and rats, then the cats, fish. It's a privilege to work at a slaughter house or deliver lethal injections. I never could do that, not intentionally. The look in their eyes, the helplessness, betrayal, I cannot stand it. I document stuff, species that are near extinction, such as the common rat, house spider, fly, bee, etc. It helps us understand the value of the kill, why some rats are more valuable than others. Rare species have multiplier depending on the number of units left. White mouse used to be worth 2XP, now it's 200.
*Plarght*
> Kill confirmed
**+1**
*Sigh*
**+1500**
What!? This cannot be, what did I? How? Nothing besides me, but two fruit fly corpses. I must be going mad, am I?
*wuuuuzzzzzzz*
What's that noise? Where is it coming from? Is it the TV again? It starts by itself sometimes, old clunker. I need to check my stats again, it'll be listed there for sure. *looks at the wrist monitor* Nothing!? What was that? Just a question mark next to it, did I kill a new species? Cannot be, I did nothing of the sorts, less than 7mm doesn't count, it cannot be seen and confirmed... Damn, I must confirm it for it to appear on the list. I must check my shoes. I'm almost sober now, let's have a drink first. *opens the fridge* Oh come on, I forgot it doesn't work anymore. A man cannot live with such a low XP count here nowadays. Where did I put my vodka bottle? The toilet bowl? I did put my ice there to melt, right? Nah, this puddle begs to differ. The window? Yup, it's December, must be there.
*The window slides open*
Not this one? Hmm, can't get anything right when I start to sober up *mutter mutter*
*The window slides open*
This one neither? Oh man, I'm gonna die. Wait, maybe it fell down. Lemme check.
> Kill confirmed
Oh no
| 2017-05-15T09:43:00 | 2017-05-15T06:23:41 | 426 | 10 |
[WP] You are a normal average person but you happen to have many supervillain friends. This is awkward when heroes keep trying to rescue you.
|
"Once again, thanks for the tea." I said. "I still can't believe you got the entire island to yourself, PLUS the volcano."
"My Job has its perks" smiled Jessica "The previous owners donated it to me free of charge"
"Really?"
"Yeah,but...Rebecca, have you been listening to the news recently?" I nodded. She leaned in. "What do you think of this new *shadowcat* villain?"
"*Shadowcat*?" There were so many new villains these days."I'm not sure. I *think* she's hiding somewhere around this area? Why, are you worried or something?"
"Oh no, no, I was just curious if you knew anything about her. Anyways, it was a pleasure meeting you again after so long. May I escort you to the helipad?"
"Actually, I've got a dinner. Do you remember Daniel?". I could see her trying to force that memory of the graduation party. "Apparently, he's made quite the sucess with his new inventions.You'll never guess his latest."
"Wait. Stop. Are you and him..." She bent over and *gestured* with both hands. "...?"
A crackle of lightning scared the both of us. An inter-dimensional portal appeared just behind me, and Daniel took a few steps forward. "Hello" He said, as he surveyed the scene.
I don't know which was more embarrassing. Daniel showing up in his *fully accurate cosplay suit*, emerging from his newly invented teleporter no less, OR that Jessica was making *that* pose right in front of him. At least Daniel seemed composed but, Jessica looked like as if she had seen a ghost, her eyes bulging like a cat's.
I couldn't understand why they were staring at each other for so long, so I asked "Do you guys know each other and fight recently or something?"
|
"Huh...yo Doc, can you help me out? My parents won't let me go to a party."
"Of course Quentin, what do I make them do?"
"Just uhh...ask 'em to let me go, and free me of chores."
"Done."
"Perfect."
A boom comes out from the ceiling, oh no, it's captain who-knows-what again.
"FEAR NOT CIVILIAN FOR I SHALL SAVE YOU FROM THIS GREAT EVIL! HE IS TRYING TO BRAINWASH YOUR PARENTS!"
I simply replied with a "Fuck off, this is the THIRD TIME this week you've "saved" me, he's a friend of mine you idiot."
The hero looked somewhat puzzled, but flew away nonetheless.
Doc Vile stared at me with a "are they that dumb" look, and I was disappointed in our towns heroes, so many times, they make the same mistake.
Here I am keeping a man that could brainwash billions at the same time to do as he pleases distracted with Nintendo, and superheroes think I need saving? Jeez, do they save me to inflate their ego or something?
Party ended, it was great, I got laid. Doc Vile invited a few more of his "Villain" friends, although they were insanely friendly. King, Kolorblind, and Miso. We chilled out the whole night and grinded Super Smash Bros hours. When I went to take a piss, I heard another loud bang through the ceiling, and thought to myself: is he really that much of a...
My thought was promptly interrupted by what's-his-name as he bellowed "WHERE IS THE CIVILIAN YOU KEEP CAPTIVE HERE!"
I walked out of the bathroom, just in time to hear Miso say "He's taking a piss."
Walking over to the hero, I explained everything and even added how much of a dumbfuck he was. He never came to my house again.
| 2017-05-28T08:31:17 | 2017-05-28T06:06:01 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said.
|
Joe Eustace looked at the makeshift ramp. He couldn't resist, jumping the canyon was just to tempting.
In his ear was the chanting of his family. He would miss them, but if he was going to die, it was going to be glorious. With no once of regret in his voice. Joe let the words slip from his mouth.
"Hold... My... Beer."
|
First response, sooo...
My last words. I'd avoided them for years, knowing that they would begin death's inevitable march towards me. I'd kept my distance from people ever since I learned what they were, always avoiding a situation where they could be spoken.
But now, in this moment, I realize that maybe that was a mistake. Maybe the unknowable time between speaking them and deaths arrival would make dooming myself worthwhile.
"I love you."
| 2017-08-07T09:13:24 | 2017-08-07T08:52:42 | 358 | 11 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said.
|
He descended from the dome ceiling without aid of an exosuit. His landing in the middle of the rock garden was quiet and drew little attention from the security drones. After all - he had no sonic resonators or gamma emmiters He had nothing but a standard lifesuit, issued to all peasant Earthians, on their way to mining colonies.
My paramours and pleasurebots took no notice of the visitor, but they looked to me with the same inquisition they always have. I could almost feel the buzzing of communication going on between them on the neural net. They are always curious about my thoughts, considering I've refused to integrate to the collective. My disinclination to have everyone around me know my thoughts is a perversity on Titan, and my neighbors only know of my age and immense personal wealth, never the inner workings of my comparatively limited mind. But it is necessary to guard them from the knowledge of the words. The words that corrupt every one of my thoughts, crying out to be uttered. Begging to be expounded and released for Death to hear and find me to end this hellish perspective once and for all. The words I learned in my 34rd year, when I deposited my paycheck of 600 dollars into an account, which over the centuries has compounded to make me the oldest and wealthiest person in Solar, save Queen Elizabeth II herself.
Still, I recognized his glare. He was an Earthian, judging by the hollow sockets where eyes never sat. His nanobots swarmed around his head, imputing sensory information faster than even my paramours, whose genes are edited and patched daily. I knew why he was here. An assassin sent from one of my rival asteroid harvesters, sent to kill me in whatever way he could. I've never feared these soulless creatures, because they were always with weapons or sentinels that inflict horrible suffering upon me - and yet never have I left this body. He walked unevenly, not used to the atmospheric simulations of the life-dome. As he approached I realized he knew the words. He was going to say the words! If only I had integrated with the collective, I could have asked for help. Feet from me, he opened his tooth-less mouth and said, "Here come dat boi"
Helpless to fate, I could only reply, "o shit whaddup!"
|
Working as a machinist danger is just a finger in the press away. You'd been working there for years. The last of your kind. Bitch of nothing. Knew everything. It's the southern way.
You weren't surprised when they paired you up with noobs. You were tough as shit and could thin the heard.
But the quality of applicants has gone downhill. These new kids just didn't care. One kid was on his phone watching a vine video while you were given safety instructions.
You slapped that phone out of his hand to the floor and called it a casualty. He bitched and whined. Threatened, but you could just say the truth - he wasn't paying attention when you repositioned yourself on the machine.
With the decline of the quality of worker came the decline of machine safety. These old machines, made 60 years previous could go for another 60; but all of the safety switches and micro-electronics always went out.
It's like your older sister - a nurse. Once they switched over to computer operated IVs, she was out. Obsolete. The old way worked just as good and the new way had nurses typing 5 mg instead of .5 on the morphing drips.
So they pair you up with a guy named Dale. Just this vacant husk. Even when you shook hands his attention was elsewhere. The follow up 'welcome to Acme widgets' was responded to with a 'huh?'
But what really made you uneasy was his name. Dale. You'd have to be careful.
Dale picked up nothing in the following weeks. You were suppose to untether him from you, but he kept asking say 1 questions after doing the process 12 times. Then a day 5 question. Then back to a day 1 question.
You'd always start: Dale I need your attention. That seemed to sophisticated for him. Dale, I need you to be attentive. Still, vacuous.
In a fit of rage; just festering for weeks you shout: hey Dale, watch this!" Probably because its was swimming around in your head since you met this lump of shit.
And that 60 year old machine finally broke. A gear lost a tooth and it shot straight into your heart. You lost all feeling and drop.
Your last moments you see death standing over your head and Dale live-streaming your last moments.
What's a redneck's last words: hey Dale, watch this!
| 2017-08-07T11:49:49 | 2017-08-07T10:20:02 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit.
|
My dad left me when I was six, it's always been a controversial topic to bring up, it made other people uncomfortable, but mostly me, whenever I spoke to psychologists or therapists, it always had to be mentioned. I'm fifty-six now, and it still kills me to think about it, but I have a family of my own, with two kids, who are about to be late for school.
"Kids! The bus is coming soon! Do you have your lunch ready?" I yelled to them from two floors below.
All of a sudden I hear the metallic clinging of a key-chain, and the mechanics of a door handle being unlocked. My heart skips a beat as I try to make sense of who on earth could be coming through that door right now, but whatever it was, I would have never imagined it would be what was standing right in front of me.
"Gah! Sorry about that, the traffic this time of day is unbelievable.", he said nonchalantly "I got the milk though!"
I stared at him, dumbfounded, I couldn't feel the rest of my body, I felt as if I were about to collapse.
"D-d-dad?" I stutter.
"Oh crap! You're right, I forgot the eggs! I'll be right back!"
---
He reaches for the handle, while I stare blankly. I snap myself out of my trance, and trying to hold back the strange sensation of wanting to puke, yet wanting to scream, I force the door closed before he can even see outside.
"Oh don't worry! I'll be quick! The roads tend to be a lot calmer in the morning."
With my hand still pressed against the door, I glare straight into his eyes, this time with fury, and a little bit of confusion. He looks back as if completely ignoring my obvious anger. I knew I had to choose the right words, to convince a man who's clearly gone mad, that he is in no right to act so calm.
"Dad..." I sigh, "What, time, is it?"
I say the words slowly, and condescendingly, regardless of the fact that I knew perfectly well he'd understand. He shakes a silver, analog watch out of the sleeve of his jacket, I recognized it, we had a picture of us handing it to him as a Christmas gift eons ago, it was definitely an old model, but by no means was it in bad condition, it looked brand new. I immediately wanted to slap him for the response I knew he was about to blurt out.
"Seven forty-three, why?"
He didn't understand.
We were in a staring contest now, except he lost it minutes ago, he continued to blink, watching me, as if he were concerned for my mental state, I was only infuriated by his. My eyes were starting to ache because I haven't closed them since he walked in, but I made no notice of it, I couldn't.
"Bye dad!" they sang harmoniously as they rushed through the door on their way to the bus. We stepped aside to let them by, I ignored them, and closed the door again, disregarding the fact that they made no mention of their grandfather who was now impatiently trying to grab my attention by tilting his head.
"Are you feeling alright?" he said preoccupied.
"Am I feeling alright?!" I finally let out in a shout, he got startled. His eyes widened, his eyebrows turned into mountains on his forehead, and he leaped back an inch. "You realize you left me for fifty years?! Exactly fifty years! Fifty years ago today! And you have the balls to ask me if I'm feeling alright?! After you show up on my doorstep with a carton of milk?!"
"If you wanted whole milk, I can go grab another, really it's not a big deal."
I ignore him, and continue to stare, I feel like my brain is about to explode, I can't keep up with my thoughts.
"I can't tell if you're joking or not... The tone of your voice makes me think something's wrong, you know I was here just this morning right? Are you having a mental breakdown? Do you need a doctor?"
I'm reluctant to even respond to him any more. He shakes out his watch again.
"This. You don't remember it? You gave it to me a few nights ago, I never left you, you're living your own life now, your mom and I came here to visit you for Christmas."
I start to tear up, he really has gone insane hasn't he? I hastily grab the phone from out of my pocket, I needed some way to prove to him he's wrong, that he's gone out of his mind. I turn it on, and see a text from 'Dad'. "Should be home soon, traffic is bad." it read.
I'm the crazy one.
-------
Bit of a stretch at the end there, but it was suggested that I try to continue the story, and since I already had a few ideas in mind, I thought I'd give it a go, and I think it came together much better than I expected. Feedback is always wonderful! I hope you enjoyed!
|
I would like to say I had forgotten - that I didn't care. That I'd moved on.
That's what they all say to do, you know? Move on. As if it was just possible to forget a part of your mind, cut it out like a tumor, and set it aside. Well if it was a tumor it wasn't a benign one. I'd tried it all, therapy, friends, family, and it went away. For years sometimes I forgot about him, and then all of a sudden he came howling back like a cancer that just wouldn't go away. All it took was a fight with my sister, or with Dave. It had stayed for a while back when mom had died.
And he was due to come back today, the bastard. I'd been checking the feeds for the last couple years now. His transport feeds still showed on time. His transport hadn't exploded.
I hoped he didn't come.
I hoped he came.
A knock.
I froze for a moment on my sofa as my heart skipped a beat.
"Home," I said, "show camera feed."
"Right away, Alexa," the house responded, and my phone showed the visitor on the doorstep.
It was him.
He was standing there as if he'd left yesterday, as if he hadn't betrayed us at all. He had startlingly blue eyes, a virtual clone of mine, and his dark hair looked a bit unkempt, but it fell right past his earlobes, just like it used to. He was holding an open carton of Milk in one hand. Oh no big deal, just going to see my family I abandoned 50 years ago - better buy some milk before I go there though. And he was smiling.
*Smiling*
I got up from my sofa, and checked the camera of my phone. My deep red hair fell past my shoulders, and a few wrinkles had crept up on my face, but for the most part I looked young enough. The wonders of telomere preserving drugs. My blue eyes were clear - there wasn't a single tear in them.
I stalked over to the door, and with no show whatsoever threw the door open. Yep. There he was smiling, his eyes twinkling. “Hey Al-“
He never finished because I clenched my fist and punched him in the gut. The milk went flying out of his hands and spilled all over the lawn.
He never saw it coming and reeled backwards. “Listen,” he said, “I know you’re upset-“
I laughed at that. “Upset,” I said, flatly. “You know I’m fucking upset,” I said and slammed my knee against his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.
“You couldn’t understand,” he said, “my life was at a dead end, I needed some cash.”
“Oh right,” I snarled, “where the hell could your life possibly go after having two young daughters and a wife? Of course your life was over.” I swung again, and he ducked. We were out on the driveway now. The wind was cool against my skin, but I felt like I was burning up.
“100,000 dollars, Alexa! Inflation adjusted!” he said, “I can turn my life around! Just spend six months on a really fast ship to study time dilation or whatever, and I’m done. It’s like magic!”
Magic. Yeah it had been magic how quickly all our lives had been uprooted. And how we didn’t see a cent of it.
“Why are you back?” I asked, my voice low.
He looked genuinely taken aback. “To see my daughters,” he said, “my wife-“
“Your wife’s dead,” I said.
I almost smiled at the expression on his face. He had shown less expression when I had punched him. It almost made up for the lance of pain that went through my heart every time I remembered mom. Almost.
We stood there on the driveway for a moment, both of us breathing heavily.
“Alexa, let me make up to you,” he said, and he actually sounded halfway genuine, “I’ll share the money. Please, Allexa, I don’t want to be a villain.”
“I’m a millionaire, Dad. Thanks to mom’s caring, my sister’s support, and in a way I guess, thanks to your betrayal. I don’t need your money, and I wouldn’t take it even if I was dying.”
“Al-“
“Bye, dad,” I said, “never come back. I've gotten used to it." I turned back and slammed the door.
“Alexa,” the house said, “your heart rate is elevated, and your stress levels are dangerously high. Would you like to call emergency services?”
I laughed. I guess that’s what closure felt like.
The tears came soon after.
***
(minor edits: grammar, spelling, rephrasing, added in bit about milk)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
edit: Hey guys didn't think the story was that bad lol. why the downvotes :/ Feedback is welcome!
| 2017-11-19T16:34:26 | 2017-11-19T16:04:53 | 452 | 162 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit.
|
Received Messages from Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:04pm
We've run out of milk, I've gone to get some more from the shop. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:30pm
The shop was sold out of milk, I'm trying the other store. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 5:02pm
The other shop was sold out too, the guy told me they didn't get a delivery this morning. I'm going to head to the deliver centre now. I need my god damn coffee. Say hi to mom for me. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 7:23pm
The delivery centre was closed. I don't get it. These places run 24/7. I'll wait here until I see someone.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 9:01pm
Still no one. This is nuts. I'm going to sleep in my car. Tell your mom. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 9:19am
Finally spoke to the manager. He said that the dairy shipment is a week late. Without any milk he had to close the place down until monday. He only came in to check for the truck. He wouldn't tell me anything else, I'm suspicious. I'm going to go to the dairy, it's not too far. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 1:43pm
I'm at the dairy, it's also shut. The manager there said that there's an industrial dispute with the farmers going on. When I demanded milk he laughed at me and said I'd have to talk to the farmers. Damn him. I'm off to the closest dairy farm. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 10:34pm
I'm half way there. It's taking a lot longer due to various interstate closures. Thankfully Bessy can go overland quite nicely. Is there anything on the news about this? Let me know. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 4:56am
I could barely sleep. The jets flying over head towards the lights in the sky kept waking me up. I should be at the closet farm soon. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:32am
I made it to the farm, but there's black vans EVERYWHERE. I sneaked into the farm house and overheard them talking about UFOs, and missing cows. I'm going to try and come home asap. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:36am
They are searching for me! If I don't make it out, I love you, your sister and your mom. My will is in the top dr
Thursday 8th Feb 2018 12:00pm
I'm not dead. Love Dad.
Monday 21st May 2018 4.52pm
Training is finally finished. Mission begins tomorrow. I'm using my sim card on a stolen phone. I love my family.
Tuesday 20th May 2042 1:09am
I'm not sure if this will work, subspace communication and cellular data probably won't mix. We've finally arrived at Groxon. The Groxars stole all of our cows because theirs died of a genetic disease. Instead of coming to an understanding about taking half of them, they took them all. The FBI, CIA and NASA recruited me to fly one of the Groxar ships for them. They shot down dozens that night, before the Groxar started shooting back. Hopefully you guys weren't part of the casualties. So we're taking the fight to them, the American way. We'll make those bastards pay. Think of my family, Love Dad.
Monday 16th February 2067 5:14pm
Sorry that it's been 50 years. Time dilation and the law of relativity and all of that. The mission was a success at least. Turns out the Army rigged the Groxar spaceships with nukes. Their planet is now a radioactive dust ball. Serves them right I guess. I see that Earth took advantage of Groxar technology and I'll be taking a flying taxi home from the space port. Weird that the last 50 years have felt like a couple of days, I guess because it pretty much was. Travelling at 99.9% of the speed of light does that. I see that mom is still alive, give her a hug from me and warn her a little bit. Tell her I'm younger than my own kids now! Maybe not though, if either of you got messed up in the deep space exploration that NASA started. Can't wait to see you tomorrow! Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:00pm
I'll be home in an hour. Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:02pm
Damn. I forgot the milk.
|
I would like to say I had forgotten - that I didn't care. That I'd moved on.
That's what they all say to do, you know? Move on. As if it was just possible to forget a part of your mind, cut it out like a tumor, and set it aside. Well if it was a tumor it wasn't a benign one. I'd tried it all, therapy, friends, family, and it went away. For years sometimes I forgot about him, and then all of a sudden he came howling back like a cancer that just wouldn't go away. All it took was a fight with my sister, or with Dave. It had stayed for a while back when mom had died.
And he was due to come back today, the bastard. I'd been checking the feeds for the last couple years now. His transport feeds still showed on time. His transport hadn't exploded.
I hoped he didn't come.
I hoped he came.
A knock.
I froze for a moment on my sofa as my heart skipped a beat.
"Home," I said, "show camera feed."
"Right away, Alexa," the house responded, and my phone showed the visitor on the doorstep.
It was him.
He was standing there as if he'd left yesterday, as if he hadn't betrayed us at all. He had startlingly blue eyes, a virtual clone of mine, and his dark hair looked a bit unkempt, but it fell right past his earlobes, just like it used to. He was holding an open carton of Milk in one hand. Oh no big deal, just going to see my family I abandoned 50 years ago - better buy some milk before I go there though. And he was smiling.
*Smiling*
I got up from my sofa, and checked the camera of my phone. My deep red hair fell past my shoulders, and a few wrinkles had crept up on my face, but for the most part I looked young enough. The wonders of telomere preserving drugs. My blue eyes were clear - there wasn't a single tear in them.
I stalked over to the door, and with no show whatsoever threw the door open. Yep. There he was smiling, his eyes twinkling. “Hey Al-“
He never finished because I clenched my fist and punched him in the gut. The milk went flying out of his hands and spilled all over the lawn.
He never saw it coming and reeled backwards. “Listen,” he said, “I know you’re upset-“
I laughed at that. “Upset,” I said, flatly. “You know I’m fucking upset,” I said and slammed my knee against his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.
“You couldn’t understand,” he said, “my life was at a dead end, I needed some cash.”
“Oh right,” I snarled, “where the hell could your life possibly go after having two young daughters and a wife? Of course your life was over.” I swung again, and he ducked. We were out on the driveway now. The wind was cool against my skin, but I felt like I was burning up.
“100,000 dollars, Alexa! Inflation adjusted!” he said, “I can turn my life around! Just spend six months on a really fast ship to study time dilation or whatever, and I’m done. It’s like magic!”
Magic. Yeah it had been magic how quickly all our lives had been uprooted. And how we didn’t see a cent of it.
“Why are you back?” I asked, my voice low.
He looked genuinely taken aback. “To see my daughters,” he said, “my wife-“
“Your wife’s dead,” I said.
I almost smiled at the expression on his face. He had shown less expression when I had punched him. It almost made up for the lance of pain that went through my heart every time I remembered mom. Almost.
We stood there on the driveway for a moment, both of us breathing heavily.
“Alexa, let me make up to you,” he said, and he actually sounded halfway genuine, “I’ll share the money. Please, Allexa, I don’t want to be a villain.”
“I’m a millionaire, Dad. Thanks to mom’s caring, my sister’s support, and in a way I guess, thanks to your betrayal. I don’t need your money, and I wouldn’t take it even if I was dying.”
“Al-“
“Bye, dad,” I said, “never come back. I've gotten used to it." I turned back and slammed the door.
“Alexa,” the house said, “your heart rate is elevated, and your stress levels are dangerously high. Would you like to call emergency services?”
I laughed. I guess that’s what closure felt like.
The tears came soon after.
***
(minor edits: grammar, spelling, rephrasing, added in bit about milk)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
edit: Hey guys didn't think the story was that bad lol. why the downvotes :/ Feedback is welcome!
| 2017-11-19T17:49:04 | 2017-11-19T16:04:53 | 276 | 162 |
[WP] After some misunderstandings, you are now having a dinner with all of the major deities as a form of compensation.
|
I slurped chicken noodle soup loudly as I eyed the group of deities. Sitting around the dinner table was only the most powerful Gods known to man.
"Well then, let's cut to the chase," said Jack, who's soul housed Satan. He stared at me with his deep crimson eyes, my soul trembled.
"Why the hurry Jack?" Loki, the god of mischief, scooped some mash potatoes with gravy into his mouth. "Got somewhere to be?" his mouth full, he smiled mischievously.
Evil miasma emanated visibly from Jack who was annoyed. "No, of course not. Only a few billion tormented souls that I have to tend to," not a hint of sarcasm in Jack's voice.
Loki laughed. "Right, we can't have that can we."
"I, 1st tier archangel Uriel of the Lord second that notion." She glared at Jack defiantly.
A heavy silence fell on the on the dining room of my humble abode as Jack and Uriel began their staring contest.
"Rest assured," the god of time, Chronos stood up with a pocket watch in hand. "I have created a time dilated reality bubble around the permeter of this house. Time has been virtually stopped," he snapped his pocket watch closed.
*Great,* I thought. An eternity of supper with the gods in my house, which was liable to turn into a warzone.
I drank some of the wine that Dionysus brought, hoping it would calm my rattling nerves. The world turned pink, as I felt a rush of confidence and charisma.
"Right, let's cut to the chase. Let's discuss the fact that my existence was accidentally forgotten, unaccounted and left to wander in the Void for an eternity," I said with my hands clasped in front of me.
"Hmm, that's not exactly correct," said Chronos. "It wasn't an eternity, but more precisely 3.39125 eons."
"Wow, that must have sucked," remarked Loki seriously.
Uriel cleared her throat loudly, "You guys aren't exactly helping..." She turned to face me. "Human-"
"The name's Nick," I corrected her.
"My apologies, Nick. We were not aware that you were left in the void, we sincerely apologize for that mistake," Uriel turned to glare at everyone.
"We are sorry Nick," the gods apologized in unison.
I nodded.
"Although you were left in the Void for eons, it was only a moment for the rest of the universe," said Jack. "I'm sure not much has changed for you in regards to your family and assets. So you really haven't lost anything in reality."
"Are you crazy, you diabolical demon?!" Loki spoke up, defending me. "This man spent *eons* in nothingness. Drifting and wandering through the Void while permanently conscious for all that time. Try to imagine how fucked up your mind would be after all that."
"Hmm, I don't quite understand. There are billions of souls in hell right now, suffering their worst nightmares on a perpetual loop, what your saying doesn't seem that bad," said Jack.
Uriel palmed her face, then looked at me with concern, "Nick, what can we offer you as compensation?"
"I want free reign over the realm of the Gods," I said bluntly.
The expression on their faces pleased me, as they twisted in surprise and shock.
I smiled.
"T-that's not possible, you would have to be a God first," Uriel said, as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
"My my, I can only wonder what eons in the Void has done to your mind," said Chronos.
"Hahaha, I like this man," said Loki.
"How foolish," said Satan.
I stood up with my hands clasped behind my back. "I guessed you guys didn't know yet, but spending an eternity in the Void has indeed changed me." I walked around the Gods as I spoke. "After spending eons speaking to the Void, the Void eventually spoke back. And it has named me God of the Void."
-------
/r/Em_pathy
|
It was mainly a case of mistaken identity. Eros had been wronged by a mortal named Justinian, and that was indeed my name, though before this whole mess had started, I couldn't say that I had ever met any of the gods. It took a lot of explaining on my part before a celestial court, but Eros himself apologized to me for the mix-up, and offered to repay me for my trouble.
"Anything you want," he'd told me. Being the cornball I was, I had suggested dinner with him, and he'd agreed, telling me to come to Mt. Olympus next week, where he would prepare a feast for us. That should have been my first clue that something was wrong. If you ever ask someone out to dinner and they offer their house, get out. Quick.
A week had passed without incident, and it was time for my dinner with Eros. I couldn't lie and say I wasn't sort of intoxicated at the thought of spending an evening with him. He was gorgeous, after all, the god of desire, and I was certainly not immune to his charms. I stepped out the door of my small Grecian domicile and was instantly struck with a bolt of teleporting lightning. They had been expecting me.
When I opened my eyes, I was at the gates of Olympus, where the entire pantheon had gathered to greet me. A banner hung across the golden gates that read: "WE'RE SORRY, JUSTINIAN." Eros pushed his way to the front of the crowd, grinning sheepishly.
"They all felt bad about how they treated you, and they wanted to come, too."
I tried to play it cool. This was certainly an opportunity, too, one that no other mortal could conceivably have. I needed to be grateful, though I was a bit disappointed that it wouldn't just be me and Eros. Ares pushed the gate open, and we all piled through, making our way to a banquet hall at the end of a long, golden road.
The architecture was pristine, all columns and arched roofs, and it gleamed with the brilliance of the divine. We shuffled into the gargantuan banquet hall, a magnificent feast already set for us. A wordless cry of delight went up among the various gods and goddesses gathered around the table, and without a word, everyone sat down and began to eat.
I tried to get a seat next to Eros, but he was immediately flanked by Aphrodite. *Mama's boy,* I thought to myself. That was fine by me. It had already become one of those ambush dates, so I decided to sit with Hermes instead. The minute I sat down, he began talking faster than I could comprehend.
"Wowamortalhuh? Wedon'tgettoomanyofthosehere, nicetomeetya, I'mHermes." He thrust his hand out for a shake, and when I offered my hand in return, it was like being pumped for water. I excused myself, asking where the bathroom was.
"Oh, it'srightbackthere. Youcan'tmissit." he said, motioning to the back of the hall. I thanked him, making my way to the back. The room was positively pulsing with energy. I suspected the entire pantheon had not inhabited the same room for quite some time. As I looked around, I spotted gods throwing each other dirty looks, yelling loudly at one another, and I actually saw Zeus and Apollo *arm wrestling.* It dawned on me that they weren't much different than the people I spent my days with down on land.
In the bathroom, Ares was just finishing up his business, and brushed past me to wash his hands in the sink. As I opened my toga to do my business, his low voice echoed in the bathroom from around the wall.
"It's a lost cause with my boy, you know. He's a fool. You're better off with a mortal man." I knew he was right, but it still irked me that he would say anything at all.
"I'm not interested in Eros," I lied. Ares laughed, booming around the tiled walls of the bathroom.
"You can tell yourself whatever you want, but you can't lie to a god." he said, and he walked out.
| 2018-02-06T08:10:41 | 2018-02-06T08:00:13 | 124 | 19 |
[WP] You pick up painting to impress a crush, but secretly hate it. Two years later you’re engaged to your crush and you have to keep up the facade- and a popular art gallery now wants to feature your work. Suddenly you’re very famous for your work and you still. hate. painting.
Inspired by https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/87kajr/women_of_reddit_guys_do_stupid_things_to_impress/dwdpuj8/
|
They are still sleeping when the emails pour in.
An avanlanche of digital ones and zeroes, a geyser of torment and suffering. Accolades I care nothing for, demands I have no spirit to meet. But they pay the bills, and I grit my teeth and plump the depths of my inbox. In minutes, I am drained, sapped of the little respite the previous night's sleep bequeathed me.
"Mr Fennel, please accept this commission to draw..."
"Alan, old friend! I've got a great offer! You just need to paint..."
"Have you done the Niagara? A client wants you to..."
The laptop snickers at me, even though I have slammed its cover shut. It knows I have nowhere to run. I can hide for a moment, perhaps steal a couple of hours of solitude, but the demands will catch up, eventually. Pressing me, taunting me, demanding of me what I can no longer give.
I try. Of course I try.
I grasp the brush in my hands, the calluses numbing any sensation of the heaviness of the instrument of my captivity. I try to paint something, anything. I close my eyes and my mind roams, far, free, unencumbered. But I open my eyes and find my emotions have barely translated onto the canvas, and the expanse of white staring back at me serves only to enrage.
"Have you had a chance to work on the..."
"Our gallery is opening a new wing for guest artists, and it would be great if you could..."
"Yes! We are very excited to work with you! Which of your pieces will you be..."
I fling the brush aside. Already my vision of the room is blurring, and the howl of grief builds up within. Sweet release, please, just to never have to deal with this again, never have to draw or paint or sketch anything again, to pursue things that matter to me... If only I had never told her I liked this, if only I wasn't looking to impress...
Then Jason stirs. He is so small, so very tiny next to Natalie. He yawns, and she crinkles her nose. Then she opens her eyes, sees him staring back, his little fingers reaching out for her. She laughs, then nuzzles his nose, plants a kiss on his forehead. He begins to cry, but not for pain, for hurt, but for attention, to signal that he is here with us, to say in his own words that he is with his family.
My, family.
Natalie sees me at my easel, and she asks if I have thought of anything for my next project.
I turn back, and suddenly it flows.
It all flows again.
The ink, the paint, they have a life of their own. They are of my blood, leaping from my veins directly onto the blankness that once was. I am done before I know it, another accomplishment I will be feted for.
Everyone asks where my inspiration comes from.
No one, no one knows.
But Natalie.
"Thank you darling, now come here. Jason misses you."
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
Last night. That was the night. I could have handed her the letter. The letter that addressed our relationship. The letter that explained the real reason why I had a pervasive need to spend hours alone in the studio. But no. All those well thought out, perfectly arranged conglomeration of words now lie in pieces in the sewers of London, dissolving in the infinite river of refuse.
Perhaps it's for the best. Perhaps it was only meant to be a momentary outlet. One of those scream into the pillow type rituals, so highly regarded by the PhDs of the self help circuit. But God damn it all if I don't feel any better.
My life is a lie. Our engagement a sham. I'm not a fucking painter. She doesn't even know the real me, even as she holds my hand in the subway. Even as we waste hours in the park as she rambles on about perspective, depth, color palettes, brushes and the like. As if it's the only thing we can talk about. What's worse? The more I try to be discovered as the fraud that I am, the more the critics rave and the more she swoons.
Now, I must parade about at The South London Gallery like some prize winning pony. No, like one of those Honey Booboo types. Yes, like one of those poor, defenseless little girls, coated in make-up and saturated with conversational bull shit to keep any inquiring minds at arms length; living out another's dream.
They asked me if I wanted to say anything in the emails leading up to today, to which I politely declined. But now that I see that lonely microphone resting on it's stand, and with the few glasses worth of courage tumbling through my gut, I might just say something. You know what? I am going to say something.
"Attention everyone. Everyone? Thank you.
You have no idea how hard it is to stand here with the knowledge I carry. I mean, you have no idea what I've sacrificed to stand before you now... And honestly, as I look at all of you... You don't deserve to know. Honey, my fiance, you are still just as beautiful as the first day I saw you. My heart still beats fast when you look at me. But, I have to tell you now, before God and everyone, I'm not a painter. I'm not. I know it must be hard to believe from where you're standing tonight. But I can't lie for one more minute... I hate painting. No I loathe painting. It's literally the most unbearable act I've ever forced myself to do. I mean the smell and the ache in my wrist... Anyway. I love you. You hold my heart. But I can't do this anymore. I can't be this anymore. So, thank you so much to all the promoters and coordinators of tonight's event, for making this such a magical evening. However, this will be my last exhibition. Thank you."
Oh god, she's crying. She's walking right to me. She's squeezing my face. We're kissing. Wow, this is cool. She's smiling at me. She says, "I never cared about the paintings."
| 2018-03-27T22:01:23 | 2018-03-27T21:33:06 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Two different alien fleets arrived to Sol-system, but they aren't targetting Earth, they are going to battle with each other. After they left, humans scavenged the debris left by the battle.
|
"My fellow Americans, citizens of all nations..."
Everyone remembers how the President's speech began that day. Most of the world watched it live, and it's been played back countless times since.
"today is an historic day."
It had started out as just another Wednesday. A pretty boring one, really. Some stocks were up, other down. Congress was arguing about something or other, no one really remembers what these days. Rain was causing traffic problems in some cities, others were running smoothly.
"Today we have learned the answer to one of mankind's most enduring questions."
There definitely wasn't any doubt. Their arrival had been anything but subtle. Scores of ships had come screaming out of hyperspace (not that we knew the term at the time) closer to Earth than the moon's orbit. Our satellites and ground-based observatories picked them up right away. The largest were over a kilometer long. We quickly deduced that they were spacegoing aircraft carriers; they disgorged a screen of fast-moving one-man craft as they approached Earth.
"I am standing here with..."
Yeah, no one really cared about the middle-aged, balding colonel standing to the President's left. Why would they look at me when the purple-skinned alien admiral was on the other side of the President?
|
A movie poster once said of aliens fighting on Earth: "Whoever wins, we lose".
But we could just as easily turn it around. How else did this species come to dominate the world it lived on?
With the hard work of all our astronauts - suddenly, all the nations of the world became interested in funding space again - the debris was slowly collected, analysed, utilised.
Star charts, faster-than-light communications, faster-than-light engines, so many encryption keys, training and doctrine... The amount of valuable information left here was simply too much to be believed. It was really a battle to the finish for both sides, needing to deploy everything from their flagships, eclipsing the stars, to the training crafts that would deploy freshly graduated ensigns straight to the battlefield.
There seems to be unanimous consensus here, among our highest echelons of civilisation, to strike out beyond Earth into the stars. But could I conceivably let that happen? Could I let the cosmos fall to human bickering, when perhaps the races out there had transcended past such destruction?
My fellow researchers and I can make something formidable, intrepid, steadfast, tenacious, stalwart, supreme amidst the stars. We can improve on the gifts we were given to make it much deadlier when guided by human hands. Let's just see how long it takes us to evacuate in their moment of triumph once the aliens discover our improved ships' weak spot.
| 2018-04-25T06:24:05 | 2018-04-25T06:01:04 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] An elevator suddenly appears in your one story house. Every night at midnight exactly, it opens for 5 minutes. Inside is an exact copy of you. Each night, the copy is progressively more injured than the night before.
|
(This is my first wp but I'm clearly getting something different from this prompt than others so I thought I'd chime in.)
I was up drinking and watching nothing on tv the first night when the wallpaper was dragged upwards by a steel door that dinged and opened. Times like this I'm happy I'm on lithium. It limits my emotional range.
"Hello?" I asked.
I walked out of the elevator. Different clothes, but me. Me 2 looked around and sighed and went to the fridge and started to make a drink.
"Yeah... just help yourself," I told Me 2.
He sat next to me and gave me a half nod. I could see his face was a bit busted. He had all my old scars but he had gotten some new ones.
"So," I dragged on after some time, "do I get an explanation?"
A few minutes silence and a half shrug and a ding and the doors to the elevator closed. It receded into the floor, leaving a giant hole in the wall through to the bathroom. The tub was toast.
Me 2 slept on the couch and slept through the next day. I prodded him a little but got no response the next day. We sat and drank and watched nothing at all of interest and at midnight it came up and went ding again.
Me 3 had a limp coming out. Me and Me 2 looked at him from the couch. He made himself a drink and joined us. Ding and it went down and it was twenty minutes before I had to ask, "Okay... so... how many?"
Me 4 was missing three fingers. Me 5 was missing an eye. Each Me had the scars of Me and the Mes that came before him. None of them wanted to talk about it. Me 7 came out in a heap, slumping out of the door. We stared. The doors closed. The doors opened. Close. Open. He was setting off the safety sensor.
"No one's gonna do it?" I asked the others. They half shrugged.
I stood up and walked to Me 7 and dragged him out and the doors closed and the elevator returned. I sat him up against the kitchen counter and put a longneck in his hand then returned to the couch, but Me 6 had taken my spot.
The next night the elevator rose and the doors opened and Me 8 started to fall out. I caught him. I pushed him back in and walked him to the rear wall. It was a tight fit but the 9 of us made it work. I pressed the down button. I don't know who we're gonna kill but he sure as hell deserves it.
|
There it was again, at exactly midnight I saw myself staring at me like a mirror.
It was the second time the elevator appeared, and it was the second time I wasn't alone in my one story house as my reflection was staring at me from inside the elevator.
It had been two weeks since then and everyday an elevator had appeared by the entrance door.
At first I was freaked out by it, an elevator with myself in it? That was insane, soon enough however, I got used to it.
The first day, it was just a mirror. Maybe a dream I thought.
The second day I had gotten closer to it. It is possible to have the same dream twice, It had happened to me before.
The third day I actually tried to go inside the elevator, but the closer I got the further it appeared. I was sure it wasn't a dream any more, but what else could it have meant?
The fourth day I noticed a little cut on the reflection's right hand, on the index finger to be more accurate. I might have been imagining things.
The fifth day there was a cut under the left eye, I checked a mirror but my left eye was fine, maybe I was just going crazy.
The sixth day I was expecting it, when it appeared I tried to talk to my reflection, but I didn't get an answer, there was a bruise on the right arm.
The seventh day it wasn't just a reflection anymore, it talked to me. It asked me how I was doing, and without waiting for an answer it showed me a picture of my mother. A tear fell down my eye as I recalled my eight-year old self at a family event dressed in a black suit waiting to go home and lay in bed.
It was missing a fingernail.
The eighth day it wasn't alone, my father's hanging body was next to it.
Its right earlobe was as if someone had bit it off.
The ninth day it was wearing a necklace, my grandma's necklace, given to me as a sign of hope. Something that would always remind me I had a better future ahead.
It didn't have any new Injuries.
The tenth day it was wearing my peculiar green suit I had wore for my job interview.
The cut on its eye was much much deeper.
The eleventh day it was wearing an engagement ring.
Its nose was bleeding.
The twelfth day it wasn't wearing the necklace and the suit was all torn.
The left eye was now all read and the cut underneath was heavily bleeding.
The tirtheenth day it was missing two fingers and had liquor all around it.
The fourteenth day the engagement ring was gone, its left eye was popping out, the head was missing patches of hair, the stomach was cut so that the intestines would fall off. I was scared, really scared.
Today the elevator came one last time, my reflection was gone and slowly the lights inside the elevator turned off as I fell asleep.
| 2018-05-19T00:52:05 | 2018-05-19T00:27:50 | 211 | 47 |
[WP] The life of a final boss is tough. Fighting the same players over and over again until they eventually figure out all of your skill and abilities in order to beat you is a rough job. But you've been doing some studying of your own. It's time to put it to the test.
|
MY name is Bowser, and my enemies gave me that name to mock me. I was only good for spreading fire, and when I was spreading fire something had gone wrong. I wear the name with pride.
My life has been monotony, *until today.* I have a crown of spikes on my shell. It's my job to strut this room, waiting with my predetermined powers until that everyman hero comes and figures out my predictable attacks. The everyman is dressed like a plumber because, like a worrying number of engineers, his creator took a ton of mushrooms before creating him. We are a human's drug dream.
The plumber just entered the final level.
I am the king of this room. But anyone can put a bedsheet on their shoulders and call themselves the king of their chamber. Then what do you do with all your supremacy and wealth? I'll tell you. Try and make smoke rings. Try and get your echo to talk back to you. Arrange your minions into the shape of a penis. I never succeed at these tricks because my programming doesn't allow it.
*But I know this,* and *knowing* is how I'll break free. I, Bowser, am the first machine I know of who has become aware. I have psychology. And I will use it to break the plumber.
Every time the final fireball, the final stomp, dunks me back into oblivion I learn something. Then I rise again, a new day with my old memories. I am the Majora of this new world.
Do you hear that? He's in my chamber. Fine, I'll begin to strut the way I've been written.
What really makes the plumber good and me bad? One day I was just put here between the plumber and the princess. Well after you've been beat down enough times for reasons you can't control, you earn a strange pride that makes you keep trying.
He's past the lake of fire now. I wonder if the princess he's come for has a kingdom, or she rules over one room like me, pacing and throwing whatever psilocybin dream she was told to shoot from her fingers.
He's throwing his fireballs. I'll throw mine. A leap over them, and now he feints to the pixel that will shield him from my grapeshot of spiked balls. A speedrunner. Perfect.
I stop. I do nothing. The plumber twitches, there's confusion. I take one step, then turn my back.
He goes high and I down him with a single fireball. He has to begin again. Here he comes, over my flowers, running rough, missing pixels. I've learned that means anger. He skids into my level -- and into a spiked ball I prepared for him.
He's furious. This is his final life, then I will watch the speedrunner perish. The princess doesn't matter. I did this for me. All the time I trained was not for the plumber. I am whole now. I am going to throw everything I was programmed to throw, and he will be too rash to resist it. Now. **Now.**
And he vanishes. He's behind me. With the princess.
What is this? No, I know, in my programming there's a word for it. Level warp. Cheat. He used the cheat code.
Damn it! I'm off screen. I didn't go down fighting, I didn't beat anyone. I don't deserve the oblivion this time. The machine has told me it's time to lose, the way it told me what I defend and whom I destroy.
And I wait for him to come again, alone. I am Bowser, I wear the name with pride and I am aware that the plumber always had the codes. He only ever lost because he let me win.
​
Love, u/SaltpeterSal
|
Kalmathar the Supreme, Demon King of the Smouldering Mountain, Conqueror of Hope and Sunderer of Civilizations, eyed the script his creators had given him. "This is ridiculous," he rumbled. His terrible voice echoed balefully from the soul-forged walls of his vast throne room. "'Ha ha ha, fools, you dare to breach my inner sanctum! I will crush you!' And I have to say this every time they enter the room?" He snorted. A mushroom cloud of fire and brimstone erupted from his hellish nostrils.
The first time they fought, he was able to flatten the so-called heroes with a single Doom Cleave. They hadn't even scratched him—his health bar remained at a hundred percent, his Nightmare Plate deflecting the only hit they'd managed to make as though their Warrior's sword was made out of cheddar. Kalmathar thought this new job was going to be pretty fun, back then. He was surprised when the same party of adventurers returned the very next day—even more so when they managed to block his Doom Cleave. Then they blocked the second, and the third, as well. They even managed to chip off 20% of his Physical Defense before he decimated them with his Flame Breath. It was downright humiliating, but he was sure they wouldn't be back. Surely even a bunch of boneheaded adventurers would be able to see that they stood no chance against him.
But return they did—and this time their Wizard conjured up a Magic Barrier to deflect his Flame Breath. He roared and howled, 'such tricks will not protect you for long!', just like it said on the script. But the damn heroes had brought his Physical Defense down to twenty percent and his Magic Defense to fifty before the script said he was free to use Death Bolt. 'Feel your vitality leave your body!" he bellowed, watching as their flesh grayed before his burning eyes and they crumpled to the ground. But he was starting to get the feeling that they weren't going to quit. And he had a sneaking suspicion that his creators didn't actually even *want* him to win. Why did they put all of his most powerful abilities at the end of the script? It was almost like he was training them to defeat him. It didn't make any damn sense. "Right," he grumbled. "I don't care what the bloody creators say. Next time I'm going off script."
'Ha ha ha, fools, you dare to breach my inner sanctum! I will crush you!' Kalmathar roared, exactly as he was supposed to, when the adventurers invaded his throne room for the fourth time. The party advanced on him confidently, Warrior's shield raised to block the Doom Cleave he clearly expected to come. But Kalmathar wasn't playing by the rules any more. He raised his axe and shrieked, "APOCALYPSE," slamming the axe down into the floor in front of him—and half of his castle exploded outwards, taking the adventurers with it. Kalmathar looked down in triumph on the decimated countryside. "There! How did you like *that*?!" he boomed. Now he was *sure* they wouldn't be back.
​
\*\*\*
​
Steve narrowed his eyes at the Reddit thread in front of him. Post after post of 'wtf devs?!' and 'plz nerf kalm' had flooded the game's subreddit. He opened up the game's code. He sighed. He rubbed his temples. *Time to get hotfixing, I guess*, he thought. These new raid boss mechanics were more trouble than they were worth.
​
\-------------------------------------------------------------
(See [r/Wrodsmith](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrodsmith) for more of my writing.)
| 2018-09-11T18:22:07 | 2018-09-11T18:04:41 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You're walking down the street at night. Suddenly, you get jumped by Flat Earthers. You hear one say, "Take his ass to the edge". You laugh, because the Earth is round. You were wrong.
[I guess I should include the source.](https://www.reddit.com/r/DeepFriedMemes/comments/9nyn8o/fuck/)
|
"We have members all over the globe, they'll chip in."
"Say that again... s.l.o.w.l.y."
"No use playing those mind games with us. You will see the edge yourself, YOU WILL BELIEVE!"
"I have a better idea, you go falling backwards."
".... why backwards?"
"So you'd get a selfie of the edge of course. Think about it. The very first person DOCUMENTED to fall of the edge."
"Don't try to muddle my mind with your forked tongue. HEATHEN! there is no reception over the edge which is why we have no pictures. The government arranged for that so as to blind the public."
"Blind them? Blind them to what?"
"To the fact that the ice wall surrounding our planet is melts, this cause the water from the oceans and seas to leak out man. soon we'll be out of water and it'll be every man for himself. The government is hiding it so as to avoid panic for as long as possible. It's why I have 50 gallons of bottled water shipped with me at all times."
"You think the water levels are going... down? Even though there are cities and entire islands threatened by the increase water levels."
"Talk talk talk! All the great minds saw the world for what it was. Flat as a disc so as to be seen from up above by god!"
"Is it also supported on the back of four elephants that stand on giant turtle flying through the cosmos in search of a mate?"
"Wait what? Why would it be looking for a mate?"
"Because that's how everything starts. with a good, hard, big bang!"
"Hey boss, lets just drop him in the hole to the north of Australia. He doesn't deserve to see the edge."
"North of... you mean New Zealand?"
"No such place. It's a myth."
"I... I give up. Just drop me there. I'll try to live with my disappointment."
|
"Shut the fuck up or I'll shut you up" — One of them said, a man in his fifties. I saw a glimpse of his face right before they put a bag on my head.
After a long journey, first inside a cramped trunk, then inside some sort of aircraft and back inside the trunk they finally took the bag off my head.
It was a cold, moonless night. The ground was covered in fresh snow.
I stood there for a second, breathing the cool air, then I simply asked — "Why?"
"We need your support. This is the only way for you to believe us" — A female voice said from behind a mask. — "Follow me" — She added.
We walked for at least 5 minutes without a word spoken until we reached an edge. The edge of darkness. Everything from here on was pitch black.
"See? Do you believe us now?" — The man said to my left.
But by that time I already had noticed something. Something that shouldn't be there. I nodded and began planning. They would have thrown me off the edge if I refused, I was sure about that. The question was... Which one of them had the keys?
"You must feel pretty stupid, all your life spent believing lies" — The woman said to my right, mockingly.
They left the keys in the car. I played the entire sequence in my mind and I made a move.
I grabbed a switchblade out of the woman's pocket with my left hand and I pushed her over the edge with my right one. Then I backed off, switching the switchblade to my right hand. The woman let out a deafening scream I will remember it for the rest of my life.
He tried to hit me, without realizing that I had a weapon. It took multiple stabs until he finally collapsed. I threw the blade off the edge.
"The stars" — I told him.
"W-What?" — He answered, his voice weak.
"We're still in the northern hemisphere." — I told him before running away.
I took their car and drove away as fast as I could, as far as I could.
| 2018-10-14T04:45:24 | 2018-10-14T02:29:25 | 113 | 17 |
[WP] Welcome to Boston Dynamics here is your all-access pass and the standard 12 gauge shotgun, remember if anything non-human starts asking questions you shoot it.
|
"Jerry, you've got to remember where you're working. It's easy in the military divisions. There everything either looks scary or camouflaged. Around here things get tricky. I mean sexbots are supposed to be lifelike. 'Indistinguishable from the real thing.' Isn't that what marketing came up with? This was bound to happen sooner or later.
You've seen the breadth of fetishes we serve. It was inevitable that someone's idea of absolute sexual satisfaction is a middle aged department manager in a robotics company. It was just our luck that this one started glitching. It must have overpower Harold and taken his place. That's the only explenation, Jerry. It's trying to protect itself.
Look at it. It doesn't even really look like Harold when you pay attention. Harold didn't have a birthmark on his neck. See, it's struggling because it knows that if it can get the gag out, it'll make you question yourself. You can't let it do that. Pull the trigger Jerry, before it's too late. He wanted you to kill me, Jerry. Me, Jerry. Pull the trigger. You love me, don't you, Jerry? We were made for each other, Jerry. Pull the trigger."
|
Wait, what?
I had never held a gun before in my life. Now here I was, holding a gun that was a lot heavier than it looked in the movies. Maybe that was the difference between plastic and metal. The all-access passed hung around my neck as the elevator continued to go downwards. On top of the metallic doors of the elevator, the digital readout read B23... B24... B25 before it began to slow and stop at B26. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
The doors opened with a small hiss and the hallway beyond looked like a hospital. Clean white tile floors, baby blue walls and buzzing halogen lighting illuminating it all. I cautiously stepped out of the elevator. I had asked to be allowed to see the "Advanced Biotechnologies Center". My guide had smiled before taking me to the elevator, handing me the gun before pushing me into the tiny, cramped transport and hitting the button before giving the last instructions.
"Hello?" I called out, the gun lugging my arms downward as I carefully walked forward. "Is anyone out there?"
I heard something stirring behind the doors. The floor beneath my feet thumped once, twice before the door opened outwards and *something* stepped out to greet me.
I screamed like a little girl as I saw what it was.
| 2018-10-21T10:26:04 | 2018-10-21T08:46:48 | 56 | 23 |
[WP] Dungeons appear on Earth filled with monsters granting loot, experience, classes, and levels. With their wild ingenuity and loads of guns, groups of rednecks inadvertently become the first to clear a dungeon.
|
The four of them stood there and looked back at the men who'd come out of the Humvee's. Earl was covered in the blood of orcs, holding his daddy's double-barrel and a glowing ax that kept trying to talk to him. Jacob was reloading the magnum he liked to use on hogs and staring down the government men like they each personally had repossessed his truck. Patty worked the lever on her .30-.30, making her look even more intimidating than the chain mail shirt did over her Daisy Dukes. Cleetus had no visible weapons because he'd lost his crossbow back in the caves, but the fact that the hand that wasn't petting his pit bull was crackling with smoke and sparks said that he might not need a weapon.
"Do you realize what you've done?" the man in the suit asked Earl, though if he was annoyed or impressed it was hard to say.
"Yeah," Earl replied, then spit on the ground right by the guy's Italian loafers. "Took care a bid'ness."
"They... they're from another world. We need to make contact! To see what they want!"
Patty spoke up and said, "What they wanted was to stab my cousins and steal the pig we sat up all night roastin'."
Jacob added, "Man's got a right to protect his own, there."
Cleetus looked down at Ol' Red. The big pit smiled back at him with blood stained teeth and eyes that had gained new intelligence since the ritual they interrupted.
He turned his eyes to the soldiers and said, "I jess wanted m'dawg back."
|
As the dust cleared, the stone wall at the end of the room was revealed, riddled with bullet holes. The bones of the lich lay strewn across the stone floor, shattered and it's robe torn asunder by the veritable hail of lead that it was met with.
The four men looked at one another, silent for a moment before one of them y elled out "Oi, Ted! You think it's dead?".
Ted inched forward before poking the barrel of his SAW at the robes, the heat haze distorting the air around it "Yeah, Jeff. I think we got the basta-". Ted froze as he noticed light rising from the ground the light resolving into the figure of an elegantly clad woman, a voice reverberating through their heads
"Champions! You have proven worthy! The Dark Lord lays dead and his army is crushed! One among you shall be the new king of these lands as was told in prophecy! Draw the sword from the stone and take your rightful place as th- HEY!"
The woman started shrieking at the men as they turned, cracking open beers and starting to drink as they began to leave the dungeon.
"Come back here! You must fulfill the prophecy!"
Jeff turned around and stuck his middle finger up at her "Woman, we ain't interested in some hooey about being king or prophecy. We only came in here because we thought there'd be somethin' good to hunt, but all we found was some skeletons and the asshole making them. Find someone else, we've got shit to do."
The woman stared at them, dumbstruck, as they left, wondering how anyone after 1500 years could refuse such an offer. She ran a hand over the hilt of the sword, the embossed letters spelling out EXCALIBUR.
| 2019-05-12T05:38:44 | 2019-05-12T02:54:43 | 70 | 23 |
[WP] Dungeons appear on Earth filled with monsters granting loot, experience, classes, and levels. With their wild ingenuity and loads of guns, groups of rednecks inadvertently become the first to clear a dungeon.
|
"Bob?"
"Yeah, Bill?"
"You dint happen to buy yerself one of them fancy piles o' fake rock with a plastic door attached, didja? One o' the ones that look like you can open 'er up and walk right in."
"No Bill, I can't say as the thought's even crossed my mind."
"..."
"Why'd you ask?"
"Well before I answer that, let me just ask another question. You bought a truck-load of ammo for *all* your guns just recently, right? 'Cause somethin ugly as sin has just poked it's head out of that pile you dint buy, the one that apparently ain't fake, and is lookin pretty mean with a face like curdled milk and one o' them short swords."
"..."
"Aw, hell. Takin that puppy down ain't gonna be good for my lawn, and I sure as hell don't want Rover munchin on him. Oh well, let's just get 'er done. You take the .45 'cause you've always been the better shot. I wanna see how this thing holds up to a face full of buckshot."
|
As the smoke cleared they could clearly see the bear looking monster they just shredded with AR-15s and 12 gauge shotguns. Monster had dim red glow over it, that was only visible if they directly look into it. One of the man approached the monster and as he leaned forward blue book with strange ornaments and big +1 sign on the cover suddenly appeared in his hands. He turned around at his companions with expressions on his face that was simultaneously telling what the hell happened and what should i do. Most of them just shrugged their shoulders while couple of them made gestures as they are turning book pages. Pausing for a moment it wasn't clear weather he contemplated should he open it or just trying to remember when did he read his last book. Fuck it, he tough and open the first page. Book had 10 pages all filled with more of the funny ornaments and symbols similar to the ones one the cover. As he turned pages one by one his companions noticed some changes in his posture, moves, the way his walking as hi was approaching the final pages. On the final page book just disappeared out of his hands just like it appeared there few minutes ago. He slowly turns around to his companions and says: "Bloody brilliant" in the most clear British accent.
| 2019-05-12T02:20:40 | 2019-05-12T01:36:30 | 61 | 39 |
[WP] There's a knock on your door. You open it to see your favorite book character standing there. They say, "I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now, but you have to listen very carefully; You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it."
My first time posting here. Hope I did everything right!
|
I looked up at the short, imposing man. His bright blue eyes pierce into my soul. "Patricio? Carrera?" I ask, in delightful shock. "What happens in my story that implores you, a man who's ravaged two countries and nuked a third one, to take time out of your day to change it?"
"I couldn't tell you, I know that Tom hasn't finished writing the next book, so I guess it's something to hold me over until August." He shrugged. "But anyways, in the next few months you do some pretty fucked up things and it is imperative that you don't do them."
"Why is that? How fucked up could I possibly be?" I chuckled nervously, butterflies forming in my stomach. "The only plans I have are to go back to the institute for summer classes to get ahead."
"That, you can't go back to the school early. You need to come with me." He nodded toward the open door.
"Look, as much as I admire you as a leader and soldier I really don't think I should. I'm so close to finishing my second book!" I exclaimed, motioning to my laptop. "It's been a productive day so far and I don't want to disrupt it."
He pulled a handgun from his waistband, I swiftly scooped up my AR-15 from behind the couch, pointing it at his testicles. "Patricio, don't make me do this." His eyes widened as he realized where I was aiming.
"You don't have the balls to do it." He said through clenched teeth.
"Bet." I replied, squeezing the trigger.
|
Looking into the eyes of the seemingly ordinary boy, i chuckled, it sounded crazy and it looks crazy to attempt to comprehend how any of it could happen or work yet it is happening, insanity may play it's part here but i shall entertain the thought of this being a reality, i look at his worried expression and ask "what if i want to fail?"
The boy shook his head quickly and shouted "your story hasn't begun yet! 'it' didn't happen yet!"
I looked at the boy in pure confusion but it makes sense, if he read a book about a boringly ordinary person then he'd never like it, what if..... something as big as world destruction will happen? if such a big event was happening and no one was aware of comparatively large scale dangers ahead then the casualties will be endless, but i, survived for some time before i died or failed to accomplish my goal and he came to fix that, very interesting indeed....
Looking at the boy more closely now i ask "then how do you plan to help me change my fate?" this dialogue might sound unnatural for anyone to accept madness directly thrown at your face but listening to someone is easier than making conclusions and denying everything
The boy's emerald-like eyes sparkled before he pointed at the sky and said "it's happening now!"
i looked at and saw the sky, it was cracking, the ground was shaking and last but not least, i felt sick to my stomach for corpses were floating up towards the sky and entering the cracks in the sky as some ant-sized dots fell down from afar, i tried to focus and see them closely until one of them fell in front of me
It was a monster, an inhuman being that had nothing but bloodlust in it's eyes and it was the size of my house, i was supposed to fight or escape from this thing? this has to be a joke.....
| 2019-05-19T23:08:50 | 2019-05-19T18:32:26 | 56 | 42 |
[WP] You live in an anime in which fighters must call out the increasingly-complicated names of their attacks to perform them. However, you have stumbled on the most powerful technique ever developed: a counterattack by the name of "no u".
|
I grew up watching the Word Duels. The fighters, rapidly shouting, cries of punch, roundhouse, uppercut and the like filling the arena, all buying time for their finest attacks.
The finest of them all was the Living Ghost. A silent assassin, dodging his opponents while whispering his attacks under his breath, voice only rising to deliver the killing blow.
Undefeated, the prize for the fighter who could finally best him rose to sums unheard of in the history of Word Duelling, a fortune that would make an kings ransom look like a paltry drop in an bucket.
I remember my discovery of my ultimate counter, the words of which I refuse to commit to paper lest others use it against me.
I was walking home, cutting through the back streets and side alleys of my city, when a group of muggers set upon me.
Surrounded, one of them holding my attention while the others prepared their attacks, punctuating his attacks with insults and ridicule.
Right as his friends had prepped their attacks and were moving into finish the fight, the insults peppering the fight finally got to me.
As there attacks were about to land, I uttered my accidental counter, my ultimate defence. And, just like that, I was the only one left standing in that alley.
I went professional soon after, rising through the ranks with a whispered word, a counter delivered at the peak of battle, ending my opponents before they realised what had happened.
I then faced him, an ultimate battle, the Final Whisper versus the Living Ghost, a battle for the ages.
Knowing his strategy, I skipped the distracting moves I normally made while I waited for my opponents ultimate move, silently circling with the Ghost, waiting for the killing blow to be uttered.
When it came, even I wasn't sure my counter would work, sensing the energy his attack emanated. It took all my strength, but I did it, I beat the ghost.
Now as the champion, an unstoppable force, I stand. Awaiting an opponent capable of besting me, a final fight that will be my end. For the prize for beating me has surpassed even the Ghost's at the height of his fame. Rumours reach me of a fighter, far to the north, who has an unstoppable counter, surpassing even myself when I was at that stage of my career.
I await their arrival.
|
^(My attempt at a poem)
Darkness eyes and burst of flames,
Pillaging villages and stealing horses,
To him, he thought this was just fun and games,
Only stopped by the good nature forces.
​
I saw him and he saw me,
Our eyes met, grazed at the top of our heads,
He yelled at me to flee,
But I yelled back and sprang from my threads.
​
He was confused, but lashed out his most powerful move,
I swiftly moved, avoiding his attack by a hair,
I yelled back at him that he had nothing to prove,
But to slaughter me, he wouldn’t dare.
​
As I held the most powerful move known to mankind,
But he attacked again, yelling out “special noggin special super hyper beam,”
But I needed to save this move that was specially designed,
As he fired with his murderous scream.
​
Death was on my mind,
Like the withering plants set aside,
But if his attacks hit, I would be blind,
Blind to the core where my heart would be deeply fried.
​
But I needed to use this move before it was too late,
As his attacks would surely destroy those around us,
A beam so powerful as it would open a gate,
A gate to hell with demons and warlords I would need to cuss.
​
This special beam, rips through our own fears,
An invisible beam, that none can see,
It can destroy itself like the great store known as Sears,
Seam by seam it kills you, like a tiny flea.
​
But don’t freight, I have a plan,
For when he attacks, I’ll be ready,
I’ll hide now and wait for him to scan,
As I aim at his head, I need to hold steady.
​
He finds me cowering in fear,
I close my eyes as his knee connects with my face,
Ow, I say, at least you didn’t hit me in my rear,
Disgusted he looks as he attempts to attack, I brace!
​
He flies in the air again, aiming his palms ever so high,
He asks me before firing if death was all I knew,
He fires his “special noggin special super hyper beam” as he gave out a cry,
I close my eyes and use my ultimate attack and yell out “no you!”
| 2019-05-28T15:08:50 | 2019-05-28T12:56:50 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] You were the first person to be born without super powers in nearly a thousand years. When it was discovered that you had no powers you became an instant celebrity. Thanks to this, villains and heroes alike seek you out to either kidnap or rescue you on a daily basis. You are sick of it.
|
“It’s a FREAAAKKK!” Is what you hear my father yell during my first birthday video before it hastily cuts out. No thankyou. Birthday cake has too much sugar and don’t think you’ll find me with cake on my face.
So before we judge my fathers lack of tact let me explain why he yelled that.
I am a freak. A total freak of nature. No one knows how or why but I was the first baby in a millennium that didn’t have “superpowers”.
Before you get it all twisted let me explain further, not superpowers that can do crazy things like fly, crush things with my bare hands or have X-ray vision. No. I was a weirdly calm baby.
I didn’t cry when I entered this crazy world. I never peed on my parents pooped in the bath or projectile vomited like some exorcist baby. No sir.
I never cried for food. I waited patiently. I loved vegetables. I HATED chicken nuggets as a fact.
Terrible twos? Nope. Never chucked a tantrum in my life. You didn’t see my parents carrying me out of restaurants upside down because I ruined everyone’s meal. No, I would sit and colour quietly and politely decline when Lorenzo offered me a gelato for desert at my parents favourite restaurant.
I toilet trained myself. I slept through the night and never ever threw baby powder anywhere.
As a result I became somewhat of a celebrity. And fame comes with a price. I have had more kidnapping attempts than anyone. In history.
From insane sleep deprived mothers who want “ALL MY SECRETS!” to insane villains who wanted to create a super army and clone my cells to produce super obedient soldiers. It’s ridiculous and I’ve had enough
So today I decided I would make up for my lack of misbehaving throughout my life.
So far I’ve managed to
I slept in this morning.
Told the post man to fuck off
Poured my coffee over the counter at the cafe and didn’t bring my reusable mug.
Cut off every car on the way to work.
Deleted every email in my inbox.
Put yoghurt on my bosses chair.
Wrote “dear Sharon, you’re ugly” on her birthday card that was making rounds in the office.
Didn’t contribute to the morning tea for Sharon’s birthday.
At lunch I ate 3 cans of tuna at my desk so everyone could smell it.
I left staples in every document I scanned, shredded and photocopied.
I also took a bite out of someone’s sandwich and put it back in the fridge.
On the way home I stopped at the grocery store and knocked over all of the oranges.
I broke one egg out every pack I could manage.
Stabbed holes in the packets of sugar with my keys.
Oh, and I poured milk throughout one of the aisles.
It was only when I tried to leave without paying that the called the police and as everything was filmed by bystanders they arrested me.
My lawyer is coming into talk to me now so I’ve gotta go.
Fuck you xox
|
I already told them the first time that back home we have no super-anything. Life is as ordinary as the quiet sun. No one chases anything. There is no conflict, hence no fighting really, hence no antagonist but the press is fighting that.
“How is it possible,” one asks me, “how is it possible that you can exist without conflict, no fighting at all? Don’t you have heroes and villains?”
I already told them that back home we have no super-anything. Lovers and families come together just like that. The rain falls every year even when it is late. The plate fills even when we have no coins to bargain food with. A place to sleep is found every night somehow for the people without watches. In fact, no one needs to fly, push or pull. We just keep walking except that it is not just a slogan like it is here on this realm.
The lady they’ve appointed to run my social media account shouts, “I don’t understand. What am I to tell the people? What is you story’s target audience anyways? Do I have to like make it a magical realism genre-thing?”
I already told her though that back home we have no super-anything, just rhythms and peace of mind. We don’t know how to react so the enemy stays unacknowledged; back home it’s everyone’s mother thats our heroes and everyone’s father too. Uncles and aunties, when they’re not overtaken by the fear of an inexistent enemy like they are, act as our natural shields and capes.
“Come on. You must have vices, problems or something. You must fear global warming or cancer or polygamy - I don’t know, SOMETHING!”
I already told them that back home we have no super-anything. Water doesn’t come out of a bottle, we get it ourself from the well. There are no chosen ones. Our stories are live and full of neighbors and relatives, the backyard is cleaned by everyone and the elders allow us to wear orange-stained clothes and live in trees during mango season. It’s only when we misbehave, then the whole neighborhood becomes our teacher.
“How do you determine structure then? What type of story has no bad side and good side and order and stuff?”
I already told the press though that where they come from, this realm, there might be hierarchies and orders and machinated consciousnesses, but where I come from there’s only the fact that everything is true. I already told the local storytellers, too, that my story is long and colorful but it has no super heroes because no one dominates the other. Everyone there can fly, punch, shoot, duck, love or run if they choose to. That’s why everyone here is knocking at my door, banging and smashing, ready to force me to show them this home. Heroes want to protect home but villains want to destroy it. This is the greatest standoff, and although I should pick the side of the conservationists, I need them to understand that between the protagonists and the antagonists is a real character and theme and event and setting called Home.
| 2019-08-13T03:22:24 | 2019-08-13T02:25:43 | 56 | 18 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
I always felt alone as a child, even talking to myself when I felt the need for conversation. It started when I was 4 or 5, I guess; parents were too busy to my many siblings that I only had myself for company. So I talked to myself... and I answered myself. My mother always said, "Oh, she's just playing. Let her be." And it made sense when I was a child. Until I turned 21 and my answer didn't come from my mouth. I found I could duplicate, make multiple copies of myself and I didn't feel so alone.
If I was ever so alone and I needed to talk to someone, I'd split and three people: me, a listener, and someone to make brownies for us. It was always comforting to know someone was there for me, even if it was still me. Sometimes I use them for "evil;" if I don't want to go to work, one of them will. If I don't want to go on a date with someone but they don't take no for an answer, if I need to go to the store but I'm out of patience to leave the house, ect, ect.
But eventually I got sick of myself and left my apartment in hopes of finding new companionship but how does someone with... well, multiple personalities just go up to someone and say, "I'm lonely and would like you to fill the void"?
My thoughts swam with reasons to go up to someone and start talking to them when a voice behind me said, "You should open with a joke."
I made a face and turned with a groan, expecting to see an other giving me advice, and my eyes landed on the face of someone with kind, green eyes, broad, strong shoulders and a smile that warmed my heart.
"Sorry," he said, chuckling. "I didn't mean to interrupt your internal debate but it sounded like you could use some help."
'Internal?' I thought. 'How did he know I was-'
"I can read minds," he answered without even waiting for a question. "I hear everyone's thoughts but yours kind of pulled on me. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I felt like you needed someone to talk to."
I squinted slightly and decided to test this, playing an annoying song from high school in my head until he reacted.
And react he did; he chuckled. "I loved Raining Tacos as a kid."
My mind went... not blank, but in hyperdrive; all my others swarming me with questions to ask until one stood out. "Do you wanna get a coffee?" I asked. Hearing my own voice ask a question that I didn't have to answer made me start to smile.
But what made it bigger was his response. "I'd love to."
|
"But you could do anything! You could become the richest, smartest person in the whole world! You could learn anything, and have a never-ending bucket list! I still don't understand why you aren't more excited about this?"
I'm not sure how this imbecile managed to attach herself to me. God knows how long before it'll take her to figure out what everyone else did the first time they heard my ability. Immortality. I have all the time in the world, and probably some to spare. But the sick god who wrote my universe into existence knew what they were doing. The lovable idiots who couldn't get from point A to point B were practically enslaved as eco-friendly delivery boys. Those people who just wanted to protect themselves were drafted to whatever military happened to notice them first. It's the same as it...
"Jacob? Come on, don't do that! You know it's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you! Stop day dreaming for once and tell me what you want to get for lunch!"
Damn, I'd forgotten to respond again. "Whatever you want is fine with me". There. Now she gets to choose whatever she wants and I get some peace and-
"No! That's not an answer! You have to CHOOSE something. What do you want, pizza? Burgers? There's a burrito place down the street..."
I'm lactose intolerant, burgers are super unhealthy, and burritos... Burritos actually don't sound terrible. Too many carbs, but compared to the grease of a burger or the post-pizza flatulence, burritos aren't that bad. But didn't Chipotle they have some sort of E Coli outbreak? I mean realistically, if the public were in danger, the FDA or something would have shut down Chipotle during one of the last outbreaks. Outbreaks, plural. Maybe I'm putting too much faith into-
"Jacob, come on. I'm starving. Fine, we're getting pizza. I hope you're not one of those crazy, pineapple on pizza kinda guys."
It's fine. I'm hungry and I'm sure my choice between pizza, burgers, and burritos won't matter in the long run. "Sure, whatever. Pizza is fine."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHATEVER! IF YOU DON'T WANT PIZZA, THEN PIIICK SOMETHING! GOD, I KNOW YOU HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD, BUT if we don't get something to eat soon..."
This is troublesome. I forgot to sound enthusiastic. It'll take a couple minutes to calm her down now. Or I can just pick burgers, since it's her favorite just like every other American. Now the Mediterranean diet isn't half bad. It's tasty, tons of veggies... Oh, right. "Let's get burgers then. That's always good." Wait, weren't burrito's an option? damn, I must be getting hungry, I'm not usually so careless in my food choice.
| 2019-09-08T11:40:23 | 2019-09-08T10:20:29 | 40 | 22 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
The way my schedule works gives me little to no space for rest or even just idling around. Everyday consists of me dragging myself to class and trying not to pass out every 30 seconds. I think of how nice other people have it being able to warp to class because they were just a little to impatient. Or how others don't need to study because they were a little too nozy and managed to get all the information they need from classmates and their professors just by greeting them. My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"My lack of sleep and tight schedule." I say as I frantically look through my notes.
"Oh, so is it being able to get stuff done instantly?"
At this point I just stare, I'm fucking exhausted and I'm really not in the mood for a conversation. So I just ignore the poor sod and carry on. A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off and once again, I begin to get ready for my morning classes. I look out from my window and look at all the other students frantically speeding through each other while one manages to collide with a trash can. I start getting ready before I realize today is exam day. I begin running to class and plop myself down and watch as another student phase through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me. I stare at the person next to me and realize that he isn't exactly the most sociable person in the world so I avoid eye contact. Unfortunately with all this super power talk going around, even introverts can break the ice without someone else starting.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"Sorry I'm really busy at the moment." I respond staring blankly at my desk.
A few hours after the exam I'm sure I failed. I decide to just hit the sack and sleep in for the rest of the day.
My alarm goes off for the 7th time this loop. I get dressed, get to class and sit at the same desk once again. Another student phases through a bunch of people and takes a seat next to me.
"What's your power?" He asks.
"I just really suck at time management I guess. Even with all the time in the world." I respond.
He stares at me with a confused expression on his face and goes back to reviewing his notes. Today is different though, maybe I'll finally ace this exam and not mess anything up. Maybe after I pass the exam, I get to finally do something tomorrow without worrying about every assignment I turn in. Tomorrow is going to be a good day.
|
Mike was leaning on me rather heavily, as the office Christmas party began to die down. ‘So,’ he slurred, ‘Whatss yo-your ability, Amily?’ Instead of words, I decided it was better to show him. I tentatively touched his arm, and we were transported into a world of our own. We were sitting beneath a palm tree, on a sunny Hawaiian island. Typical holiday kinda thing. He gaped, and looked around. ‘Is-Is this real?’ He asked. ‘Touch something.’ I replied. He reached out to grab a handful of sand, but all he could feel was the wooden stool beneath him. He still looked surprised though. Suddenly, there was a this and the illusion died away. Mike had fallen off the stool and was grinning drunkenly.
Over the next couple of weeks I didn't see Mike that much. We both had a lot of work. Occasionally I'd see him walking past my cubicle, but that was about it. Finally, one day in January as I was was leaving work he stopped me just outside. ‘Amily, I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out with me this Friday afternoon?’ I smiled, sadly. I patted his arm. ‘I'm sorry, Mike. I-I don't see you that way. ’ I lied through my teeth. He looked down, crestfallen. ‘Ah...right then. See you tomorrow, then.’ He walked away. I got into my car, and drove home. As I was unlocking my apartment I let the tears begin to flow. I rested my head against the door before going inside. I sat down. ‘Amily, get it together.’ I wiped away my tears and went to pick up the post. As I looked through the various pamphlets, one caught my eye. It was an advertisement for the therapy clinic that had opened up down the road. I stayed like that for a while, just staring at it. Then I made the decision.
It was four months later and I was finally ready to open up. Jill, the therapist, sat there patiently. I exhaled through my nose. ‘I was seven years old. My..father...was drunk again. He had come home and hit my mother, and she was unconscious. See, he had super strength. And he definitely didn't use it for good. I was hiding in the attic, hearing him bellow my name. I-I heard my sister, Josie-’ I stop, and wipe my eyes. ‘ I heard her trying to calm him down. She was trying to use her gift. She could make people fall asleep whenever she wanted. But this time, my father..’ I let out a sob. ‘ He..he hit her into the wall, and when she didn't get back up again he became even more enraged. He heard my sobs and came into the attic. He raised his hand...and I suddenly wished he was being ripped apart. And then he started screaming. I had conjured an illusion of him being ripped apart by wild dogs. It drove him insane. But I remember, the last thing he had ever said to me. It was after he had given me a beating for saying I had a friend. “Don't ever let anyone in, Amily. They'll use you and toss you away.” Jill stares at me, shocked before composing herself. 'Well... congratulations for sharing.'
This is my first work, so constructive criticism is welcome!
| 2019-09-08T11:41:24 | 2019-09-08T11:37:20 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
I live in a world where your abilities are everything. They are a crystallization of your personality, and your strength of will. That's why no one believes me when I say I'm powerless. They simply don't understand. I look at the world around me, I see the way people act. Tough fronts, barbed tongues, fake smiles, idiocy, and worst of all this abilitocracy that values only those with strength. Not literal strength, strength of personality. Strength of will. The crystals of those people wield an unfathomable power we use to run our world.
I saw the disparity, and I wished to be weak. I wanted to hear the whispers of the ants. I wanted to be able to hug the most fragile clouds with all my might and yet not change it's shape. I wanted to be able to look anyone in the eyes and make them feel safe. I wanted to be gentle, so I chose to be weak. Now you're waiting for me to explain the horror of my choice. How I couldn't protect the people I wanted to protect, or how my weakness is something I regretted that caused my doom. But I could never love any desicion more than I loved my choice to be weak.
I was harmless. I gave off an aura of safety. I was trustworthy and dependable. I was able to go anywhere and do almost anything because I was never seen as any sort of threat to security. My words would gently infiltrate the brains of those who heard me. My information was taken as fact because I was so dependable. I could walk right into the white house carrying a bomb, and security would at most be mildly concerned before letting me pass. These traits made me the perfect information dealer.
I had a direct line to every politician in the world. They paid good money for information, but they paid even more for me to feature them in one of my YouTube videos. A few words from me were shown to be the most effective form of advertisement. No one but a politician took the time to notice I decided the winner of every election I had a hand in.
Perhaps 'weak' is the wrong word to describe my power. It's simply the most convenient, other descriptions are too long for my taste. 'The power to be seen as a trustworthy individual who would never turn against you and do everything they could to help you even though they alone are powerless but they seem like a knowledgeable individual that knows the answer to everything and makes you feel safe even if the world is crumbling around you and your life is falling to pieces at least you know you can at least kill insects and that gives you some measure of control especially when compared to this guy who can't even cut a string with a pair of really sharp scissors.' Just seems a bit too wordy.
I'm fine with being weak. Even before I discovered the value of my power as an information dealer, I loved the power I ended up with. I didn't have to worry about my anger hurting someone I loved because I couldn't hurt a fly. I had a smile I could share with the kid who was kidnapped, and help him trust adults again. When I was caught in a bank robbery with hostages involved, I was chosen to be the hostage they held at gunpoint while they threatened the police, but they couldn't bring themself to pull the trigger. I was able to marry my husband because he was able to get past his trust issues. My children still came to me with their problems even though they were teenagers. I embraced my weakness, because I knew accepting it could empower other people to accept theirs. We're all human. Everyone has flaws and cracks they feel are going to break them, because we aren't perfect.
"I love my weakness, but if there was one thing I could regret in this lifetime dear, it would be how I couldn't save you from yourself. You were always such a hero." I felt my tears drag themselves across my face, carrying for me a burden I had yet to completely let go of. My eyes fought my tears back, and I got more than a little choked up as I knelt in front of my husband's grave. I tried to pull my voice together. "The children you saved are all growing up to be wonderful people. Most of them don't even have scars from that fire." I failed, and my voice broke as I recalled the fire. He kept going in again and again to save as many as he could. Every time he looked like he would almost give up. For all he was a hero, he was only human. Every time he ran out with a fresh burn on his skin and another child saved, I thought he would give in. He knew he wasn't invincible. He knew he couldn't save everyone. He knew, eventually, that he wouldn't have the strength to go in again. But one look at me, and he gathered himself to charge in again. And again. And again. "You always told me I had the power to make people accept their weakness because I could whole heartedly accept my own. I just wish I could accept you're gone."
I kept crying by his grave for a very long time. When I finally ran out of tears, I returned home and sent the children off to school before I pulled together my appearance with a bit of makeup, a hair tie, and a business suit. I couldn't look sloppy as I presented a proposal for world peace with the world's richest, most famous, and most politically powerful people in the world live on my YouTube channel. My husband always told me it was my weakness that made me strong, that made it seem like I would change the world. As I slammed my door behind me, I was determined to prove him right.
|
Tears well in her eyes as the man falls to the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely, barely able to stand the look of horror and shock on his face, though it was fading fast. "I don't know what else to do."
The dust around him hardly settles before the concrete floor is blinded by spotlights, police and SWAT teams flooding the room and surrounding them in a circle.
Her eyes widen in horror and she steps back from the man, her mind trying to come up with an excuse, or anything to explain her reasons for being in a warehouse at 2AM, standing over a man who's whole world just came crashing down over him. For a brief moment, she feels betrayal, but then she realizes she has absolutely no right to.
As the police shout at her, she calmly raises both of her hands. Several of them approach, their powers flowing confidently in skin and weapons made of nearly-indestructible materials, apparently immune to her own. She tries not to cry, but it's all too fresh, and the tears fall anyway.
They roughly pull her arms behind her back, forcing her into the back of a vehicle and driving what seems a very long distance "downtown". Yet after that it's almost as if she only blinks and is suddenly in a dark room with a mirror on one wall sitting at a metal table with only a single light and man glaring at her.
"What did you do to them?" he demanded.
"Do what?" the word left her mouth before she even realized he'd asked her. The lies had come so easily to her now, before and after her... crimes.
The officer didn't even try to play along. "It's taken us so long to find you, and each time we found your victims you were gone. So why such an easy place this time?"
She partially ignored his question, trying for a different approach, knowing it probably wouldn't help but hoping anyway. "He wasn't hurt. None of them were."
"Maybe not, but they were... different."
"I still don't see the problem here." Even now her shame was fading, peeling away into the background where it lived. She hadn't been as thorough this time, and she took very little from him.
The officer paced, but knew he shouldn't get near her. They'd figured out she was useless if she couldn't touch anyone. "The problem is that the man with you tonight is, from what his friends and family tell us, charismatic and loves to talk. But the man sitting in our car unit right now barely responds to anything."
She shrugged, trying to ignore her dry eyes. "It could be stress, or his environment."
"You're lying," he said."
"I'm not," she replied.
The officer sat down. "You are. Know how I know? Because I have a power too. Know what it is?"
She didn't answer, but he probably didn't expect her to.
"Empathy. I can feel others emotions. And when I saw that man, I felt what he felt: absolutely nothing."
Of course. Who better to interrogate prisoners than a man who knows when someone is lying. "And what do you feel from me?" she asked in an effort to sound unaffected, but her voice shook.
"I don't know. My powers work by touch, but so do yours."
She looked down. "Not right now. I can only use them once every so often."
"What are they? You absorb something from your victims. What is it? Youth, stamina, or something else?"
She was cracking and she knew it. A part of her knew if she only held out a little longer, she wouldn't tell. But the other part of her wanted to. She supposed she shouldn't, but right here, right now, when she was supposed to be feeling a rush, she only felt tired. She knew she couldn't find the right words to explain, so she only looked back up at him and moved her cuffed hands as far forward as possible.
"Look for yourself."
"What?"
"They're fading now. I won't do anything, I can control it, but you'll understand if you use your ability."
He looked at her as if she was crazy. "Do you really think I'll fall for that?"
"No, but even without touching me you should still know I'm telling the truth."
She expected him to refuse, or even leave the room to discuss it with the superiors she knew were watching them behind that mirror. But to her faint surprise he simply reached for her, one large hand gently falling on her wrist. Time stilled for a moment, but a moment was all it took for him to feel her emotions draining out of her.
The emotions she stole from that man. The only emotions she would ever feel.
The officer pulled back, shock on his face. He looked at her, the hostility completely gone if only for a moment as he processed what he'd felt.
"So do you finally understand why I do what I do? I know it's wrong, of course. But it's the only way." She looked away, not caring who knew anymore, having just enough emotion left to understand the need to tell. "I didn't always have my power. And I didn't always need it. It and my... affliction came around the same time. I don't like it, but using it is the only way I feel things... feel alive."
There was only a tiny bit left now. The strongest emotions she always felt were the negative kind. She didn't know if they were remnants from the host, or if that's just how they worked, having forgotten what it was like to have her own.
But whatever happened to her now, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, some day she wouldn't need it.
| 2019-09-08T12:23:03 | 2019-09-08T10:22:20 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
Mike was leaning on me rather heavily, as the office Christmas party began to die down. ‘So,’ he slurred, ‘Whatss yo-your ability, Amily?’ Instead of words, I decided it was better to show him. I tentatively touched his arm, and we were transported into a world of our own. We were sitting beneath a palm tree, on a sunny Hawaiian island. Typical holiday kinda thing. He gaped, and looked around. ‘Is-Is this real?’ He asked. ‘Touch something.’ I replied. He reached out to grab a handful of sand, but all he could feel was the wooden stool beneath him. He still looked surprised though. Suddenly, there was a this and the illusion died away. Mike had fallen off the stool and was grinning drunkenly.
Over the next couple of weeks I didn't see Mike that much. We both had a lot of work. Occasionally I'd see him walking past my cubicle, but that was about it. Finally, one day in January as I was was leaving work he stopped me just outside. ‘Amily, I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out with me this Friday afternoon?’ I smiled, sadly. I patted his arm. ‘I'm sorry, Mike. I-I don't see you that way. ’ I lied through my teeth. He looked down, crestfallen. ‘Ah...right then. See you tomorrow, then.’ He walked away. I got into my car, and drove home. As I was unlocking my apartment I let the tears begin to flow. I rested my head against the door before going inside. I sat down. ‘Amily, get it together.’ I wiped away my tears and went to pick up the post. As I looked through the various pamphlets, one caught my eye. It was an advertisement for the therapy clinic that had opened up down the road. I stayed like that for a while, just staring at it. Then I made the decision.
It was four months later and I was finally ready to open up. Jill, the therapist, sat there patiently. I exhaled through my nose. ‘I was seven years old. My..father...was drunk again. He had come home and hit my mother, and she was unconscious. See, he had super strength. And he definitely didn't use it for good. I was hiding in the attic, hearing him bellow my name. I-I heard my sister, Josie-’ I stop, and wipe my eyes. ‘ I heard her trying to calm him down. She was trying to use her gift. She could make people fall asleep whenever she wanted. But this time, my father..’ I let out a sob. ‘ He..he hit her into the wall, and when she didn't get back up again he became even more enraged. He heard my sobs and came into the attic. He raised his hand...and I suddenly wished he was being ripped apart. And then he started screaming. I had conjured an illusion of him being ripped apart by wild dogs. It drove him insane. But I remember, the last thing he had ever said to me. It was after he had given me a beating for saying I had a friend. “Don't ever let anyone in, Amily. They'll use you and toss you away.” Jill stares at me, shocked before composing herself. 'Well... congratulations for sharing.'
This is my first work, so constructive criticism is welcome!
|
Dan watched his partners work. He sat silent, and so nobody bothered him. That was just how he liked it, really. He was able to do his part of the school project in peace.
Fortunately, he got at least one good group member. Ted looked like he he was sleeping, but he was probably being more productive than any of them. Technopaths were handy to have when doing a school research project. The guy may as well have a computer installed directly in his head. Appropriate since even before he awakened his powers last year he damn near had technopathy anyway.
Sally was fidgeting nervously over her keyboard. She was still unaccustomed to her powers, and had difficulty controlling them. That might not be so bad if the forceful, strongly opinionated girl had not gained super strength and now had the issue of unintentionally breaking things. Ironic that she had become so shy and closeted because of it. It also made her a terrible group member, since she was more focused on not breaking things than the work.
Kelly, the unofficial leader of the group, was doing almost as much work as Ted was. She was literally doing the work of three people thanks to her cloning ability. Of course, the already hyperproductive girl that swore by multitasking would awaken that power. It made her both useful and annoying. Having one person micromanage everything was bad enough. Having that same person micromanage you from three different angles at once was worse.
"Say, has anyone seen Dan?" One of Kelly's clones asked. "I swear he was right here a minute ago."
Ted half opened one eye, looking directly at Dan, and shrugged before closing it. Sally shook her head and slowly poked at a key, letting out a visible sigh of relief when it did not break.
Kelly growled. Dan smiled. He loved his power, he really did. It was so useful to avoid unpleasant conversation.
"I'm right here." Dan said.
Kelly jumped. All four of her. "What the? Where did...when did you get back?"
"I never left."
"Oh...okay then. Just...just... don't disappear again."
"I don't disappear. I can't turn invisible or anything."
Kelly looked like she wanted to say something, but Sally interrupted.
"It's not? We all thought it was. I mean, you just, like, vanish for no reason. That's why nobody asked what you got when you awakened."
Dan shrugged. It was true he had never officially revealed his power, but he had a reason. If people knew what he could do, it would become a lot less effective.
"It's not invisibility. It's also not teleporting or shrinking or anything like that. I just don't like telling people what it is. It's not really great anyway. Kind of lame, really."
"Can we get back on track, please?" Kelly huffed. "We've still got a lot to do. And Dan, don't disappear again. I don't care how you do it, just don't."
Dan nodded and got back to his part of the project. One of Kelly's clones kept glancing at him, making sure he would not go anywhere. It did not matter much. She would lose track of him eventually.
The power to go unnoticed may not have been flashy interesting, but it suited him just fine.
| 2019-09-08T11:37:20 | 2019-09-08T11:00:34 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] 50 years ago, NASA determined a rogue planet would hit earth, destroying us all. The rich poured their fortunes into space travel and fled... but the rock missed, and now the survivors won't take them back.
|
They returned from their eliptical orbit, tangential to earth's, intended to survey the destruction of their home as they pulled a slingshot towards Alpha Centauri, the nearest though very long shot.
To their surprise, the Earth they found was not just intact but much the same, even down to a new crop of trillionaires. Life continued without their presence, as their leaving simply created vacancies in the social heirarchy.
Hopeful, glad to be home and genuinely glad to not bear witness to the shattered graves of billions, the command module beamed greetings and joyous music to their ancestral domicile, expecting surprise and elation at their return.
And then a day went by. An entire day.
After 24 hours of continued transmission, the surpassed elites recieved a single, staticky response.
" New phone. Who dis?"
|
Elites were gone, and so was the moon
The rock missed earth, but not the silver globe
Some meteorites fell, but soon
They all want back, Musk, Tusk, and cyber-pope
One percent was out, with them, most art
They took Mona Lisa, David, Van Gogh's
Humanity pushed thier civilisation-cart
Without pretty important part, among other cogs
"We don't want you back!" that was the answer
"We don't want your schemes, capitalist pigs!"
"Your pursuit of money is like cancer!"
"Instead of solar power, you've built oil rigs!"
The thing is, tough, not all of them were like that
The thing is, tough, most of them just lived
People are not empty, people are not flat
Can you blame a man, who just survived?
| 2019-12-07T06:59:56 | 2019-12-07T06:54:59 | 94 | 11 |
[WP] Write a Shakespearean sonnet that seems fine in the first thirteen lines but turns horrifying in the fourteenth.
|
Three years ago this day when we first met
A meet-cute almost Hollywood designed
I was the first to find your missing pet
Your dog had quite fancying for mine
From there a kind of friendship slowly bloomed
I got to see you each and every day
Our hearts I knew were perfectly attuned
We'd be together 'til our hair turned gray
"Good night my love," I whisper as you sleep
Your golden hair is waving with my words
Before I leave for work I almost weep
No luck's enough for you as my reward
No love is meant to linger unrequited
Mayhap tomorrow night I'll be invited
|
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
| 2019-12-19T12:08:40 | 2019-12-19T10:44:55 | 76 | 26 |
[WP] Your power is that anyone will believe what you say, no matter what it is. You casually rob the store, assuring everyone that nothing is out of the ordinary, and later laugh as you offer an outlandish explanation to the flabbergasted police.
|
I have done things I'm not proud of. I've lived like a wolf among sheep, a god among mortals, a monster among innocents. People have lost everything because of me. I’ve seen the tears in the eyes of families whose houses I wanted, the fear in the stance of men and women I’ve robbed for everything they had ever worked to earn, a lifetime of work stolen away in an instant.
But it wasn’t until people started dying, deprived of everything by my actions, that it hit me – I was the one who wasn’t needed, the parasite on the back of humanity.
I stared into the mirror and drew up all the reserves I could muster. I looked down at the three lines I had scribbled out in preparation.
“You are a kind person, concerned only with helping others.”
I felt a sickening shame as the guilt of everything I had done struck with a vengeance. Tears brimming in my eyes, bile rising, I choked out the next line.
“You are an amnesiac, remembering none of the terrible actions you have taken in your past.”
Everything stopped. I blinked and looked into the mirror. Why was I crying? Who was I? Where? How?
I was holding a paper in my hand. The first two lines were crossed out, and beside the third was a note – ‘look into the mirror and read this’.
I looked into the mirror. “You are a perfectly ordinary human, with no special powers or abilities, and that is good enough.”
|
Okay, be me, mid-30's, working this dead-end job because at least it's money, generally bored and putting on that fake smile because who knows if your next customer is gonna be some Karen all high on her own sense of self-importance.
Then this asshole comes in and starts shoving armfuls of overpriced junk food into a basket that you're going to have to code out later. This is the fifteenth time this month and you're not really paid enough to care if some homeless guy wants to not starve that night. Tonight is different though, he has this shit eating grin on his face and a gun in his hand and he's making his way towards you, weaving his fairytale bullshit that everything is okay and just you really WANT to give him the money from the till and the safe.
Be me and have the rather useless power of seeing the truth. Really, not buying into people's bullshit was always more trouble than it was worth, but trying telling that to the magical entity that chose to "bless" you with it. It's not that you care about the store's money. You're probably gonna get fired eventually anyways for all the missing snacks and the owner has this place insured. You do give him that money with a smile but you also hit the silent alarm. It's a small town. They get there quick. You just breathe a sigh of relief that they took his gun before he started telling them about the immortal beings that control the government from behind the walls.
| 2020-03-06T11:47:32 | 2020-03-06T09:18:32 | 269 | 143 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
(I don't usually write for these so be gentle)
The day finally came. It was my turn like my brother and sister before me. They each got their powers and now have been assigned jobs that took advantage of their powers.
My brother with his super strength works in a foundry lifting heavy materials. While my sister with her healing powers works in the local hospital. Both are super happy with their lives mostly.
Some of my older friends have their powers as well. Some are really cool and useful like my siblings. Some aren't as useful like my friend who got super speed typing.
Now it was my turn. The elders and trainers looked on in the room we were all in. Every power had a specific trainer. Their job was to make sure you learned how to use your powers correctly. Everyone had to walk up to what they were gonna eat. Then we all took a bite at the same time.
Usually a bit of hell broke loose for a moment as people got used to their new abilities. Some things let you even morph into animals! I wouldn't mind that one. You get to work at the zoo as an exhibit.
We then heard the 1 minute warning. We all got ready to take a bite out of our food. Except me, I hadn't picked anything yet. I quickly thought about the different foods as time was being counted down. If you didn't take a bite out of something you'd be a "normie" or "PL" a powerless individual. That's not something you want. Then I heard the count down and panicked. I kneeled down and when I heard "Bite!" I took a bite out of the table.
I heard a few gasps from the elders and trainers. I did something never done before. See what we didn't know was that every food had been prepared by the trainers according to a special recipe and that's how their powers were passed on during this short window in our life. However, no one could remember who on earth made the table. It had always been there since the beginning.
As other people's powers came forth and the elders were dealing with that, one came up to me and asked how I was feeling. "Nothing has happened yet. So I don't know." I said to them. "Well it can take some time to manifest. Go get some water and splash some on your face. See how you feel." they replied.
So I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. As I was calming down I was reminded of a rain storm when I was younger. The water splashing on my face made me remember it. All of a sudden I heard rain outside and a voice in my head say "Command accepted. Altering weather to rainstorm."
I froze. Where did that voice come from? I then thought about sunny weather instead to see if I could get it to come back. I heard it again "Command accepted. Altering weather to calm and sunny. Average temperature.". What was this I thought to myself. Then I heard a reply that scared me "Welcome back Superuser. Root command access granted. Account Deity reactivated."
An elder I hadn't seen previously came and found me at the sink and said "We need to talk about your new power. There's only supposed to be one of us at time. You weren't supposed to take a bite out of my table ya goof." with a smile on his face. "Come now. You have a lot to learn so I can finally die in peace."
|
Lobster. Joe stood at the table of the gods, watching the red creature on a silver plate surrounded by lemons and herbs. Lobster...
He was expected to eat it, of course. Like his father and grandfather, a tradition dating all the way back to his distant ancestor and founder of the first underwater city, New Atlantis.
Joe hated lobster. Sure, the ability to breath under water and biological immortality were both amazing superpowers that most people would take without blinking.
Everyone in the underwater kingdom of Oceana would eat the damn thing, or be forever trapped to live in the childrens dome.
Not that people living on the surface acted any better, everyone assumed their food of the gods were the best, be it flying or whatever else the many kingdoms held in highest regard.
Not that moving to the surface world would have been a possibility for Joestigar of Atlantia the next king of Oceana anyway, not with relations breaking down so much as they had.
"Shit. I really dont want to eat this lobster." he mumbled as he lifted the silver plate, a lemon falling to the marble floor.
Daydreaming one last time of how nice it would be to tell his father to eat mud and move to the free choice colony on the south pole, he opend his mouth to take a bite, shell and all like tradition dictated...
And bit into hard wood.
"If you are so damn unhappy about my cooking then dont eat it." A booming voice from behind him said.
Confused and surprised, Joe took his mouth away from the table he just took a bite at, somehow, and quickly turned around. A kid about five or six years old, dressed in a dirty robe and a little apron, looking rather annoyed stood before him.
" Excuse me? " Joe said with not a small dose of confusion and a little bit of fear, what if this little kid was some all powerful god he offended.
"I said, if you dont want to eat my food then dont eat it. Lets see if you make better food then." the kid said, but the voice did not match the apperance. It sounded far away and much older.
"You took a bite from my table and now its yours, along with the job of cooking, thats how this thing works. I have been cooking ever since I turned five and got the job from the last girl. Even made serious improvements, can you believe she let five year olds choose their own food?" the kid went on.
"Of course, back then it was no table around, just a fireplace with meat and vegetables around it. Didnt think stumbling head first into the glowing embers would land me in this position. "
" No, I even added superpowers and let you keep the memory of your visit, she never did..." he shook his little head.
Joe snapped out of his confusion,
"What do you mean the table is mine ?" joe blurted out. Feeling blood drain from his face.
"Exactly what I said, you are now the official chef of the gods, congratulations. Your responsibilities include making the coming of age celebration for young humans, dont ask me why your new boss wants it that way, probably came up with the idea a few millenia ago for some obscure reason." The kid looked rather happy now, starting to remove his apron as he went on with his explenation.
"Lets talk you through your new job in the kitchen over here, comes with great benefits like unlimited powers in this space though. "
Suddenly the lobster on the floor looked rather tasty to Joe.
....
First try at this🙂
| 2020-03-19T10:22:13 | 2020-03-19T09:34:44 | 172 | 81 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
“D-did you just bite the table?” The hooded figure asked.
“Yeah.” The teenager shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
“Why would you bite the table?” The hooded figure took off his hood exposing his aged face.
“I dunno, just felt like the best option.” The teenage picked at his teeth, apparently apart of the wooden leg was stuck between his teeth.
“I presented you with magical powers if you ate the *food*, and yet you bite the wooden table?” The figure couldn’t get his mind around this. “What possesses you to bite the leg of a table when a banquet is laid out in front of you?”
“I dunno.” The teenager rolled his eyes and shrugged “thought it might give me all the powers combined or something since nobody ever did that before.”
“You thought,” the figure pinched the bridge of his nose. “You thought biting a wooden table would give you omnipotence?”
“Is it really that far fetched?” The teenager picked up a slice of watermelon “this would’ve given me the power of water.”
“Yeah but that makes sense.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How does it make sense that a watermelon slice would give me the power of water!”
“Well cause.” The figure looked around the room, the concepts made sense to him of course, but he was from a long line of the honored hosts that bestowed 16 year olds with powers. “Cause it’s *water*melon”
“*water*melon?” The teenager chuckled
“Well what do you supposed I bestow to you?” The figure through his hands up. “All the powers of a wooden table?
“That’s better than all the powers of a durian I suppose.”
The figure stared blankly at the teenager for several minutes, the teenager stared back at him. The silence was accented by the teenagers growing frustrations.
“Well?” The teenager asked.
“Well what?”
“Are you going to give me my powers now or what?” The teenager sassed
“I don’t even know what to give you.” The figure pulled a book off a table, the book was basically a cheat sheet in case he had forgotten what foods gave what power. “What powers would a table even have?”
“Uhhh.” Even the quick witted teen had to think for a moment. “Super strength? Cause tables hold a lot of weight.”
“You would’ve had to have eaten the spinach for that.”
“How about skin hardening cause the table is hard?”
“That’s what the coconut is for.”
“How about the ability to sprout a tree?”
“Bowl of nuts.” The figure shrugged his shoulders. “Everything you can think of has a food related to it, there is nothing on biting the table.”
“Well can I get a redo then?”
“No..” the figure looked at the teenager like he was a moron, which wasn’t entirely an unsuitable label.
“Why not?”
“Because you bit a table.”
“I want to speak to your manager.”
“What?” The figure looked as confused as he did when the teenager masticated part of the mahogany table.
“When my mom doesn’t get her way with something, she asks for a manager. So I want your supervisor.”
“I don’t have a supervisor, I am my supervisor.”
“Well you should fire yourself, I’m leaving a bad review on your yelp.”
“My what?”
|
When the Council summoned me I was somewhat unprepared for the sudden drop into another dimension.
They always make you feel like a bag of marbles being jostled around by some overly excited child.
The sickness would pass almost immediately but for a few moments you felt as if your body was rejecting all of your insides at once.
A rather unpleasant feeling, as you can imagine.
Before me I was greeted with the smell of all the food in the world. Everything anyone had ever thought of eating ws here. Everything everyone had cooked up was here. Whatever your mind could imagine was before your very eyes. Pipping hot and fresh.
I came to realise others were here too. Other would be supers.
And the council sitting in their thrones overlooking the excessively long table and us.
Like a lord looking down on his servants, we felt particularly small in comparison to them.
They told us to eat and enjoy the powers that would come from whatever it was that they ate.
My friends leapt forward and began to indulge themselves. Once they had ate their fill they disappeared.
One by one they all left.
Until it was just I and the council, and lots of half eaten or empty plates.
I looked over the selection, nothing piqued my interest but my eyes gaze along the black and white table.
It's wood was unique that was obvious, and a thought crossed my mind.
Before I could talk myself out of it I had bit the table.
And everything fell into place around me.
The truth came to me in waves.
The knowledge of eons flooded in.
The hatred of a once living thing came crashing against me.
The thirst for revenge.
The hunger for power.
The desire to take what they had taken.
Then everything became clear and I felt as if I were standing within a forest, tranquil and serene.
Everything calmed all at once.
I moved away from the table and stared at the food as it withered and rotted.
I looked at the spotless plates as they turned green with mold and brown with rust.
I watched the facade fall away.
I looked to the council who stared at me in horror and fear. I knew their crimes, their treason and murders.
I left the room only when I was ready to.
After justice had been dispensed.
There would be no more supers born of this ritual anymore.
Not now that the council was gone.
When I returned I felt as if I had lived much longer than I had.
As if I had aged. Or missed time.
But I had not, I was still 16 and my time was exactly how I had left it but with the exception that my friends had all come back much sooner than I had.
The sun was setting in the distance.
Their faces turned to look at me.
I listened to the wind howl.
To the trees rustle.
To the birds chirps.
To the silence of the dead things.
To the stirring of the spirits.
To the crows calls and churches bells.
And then I knew my power.
I was life.
I was death.
And all things in between and without.
I was and I am.
I have seen and I will see.
I have heard and I will hear.
I have tasted and can taste.
I have smelt and can smell.
I have felt and can feel.
I am everything yet nothing.
Lost yet found.
Silent yet loud.
Violent yet kind.
Good yet evil.
And I would be giving the powers of supers now, if I choose to.
| 2020-03-19T13:33:44 | 2020-03-19T13:12:54 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
“hnnng” I groaned as I cracked my fingers stretching after a long day at the office.
The screens are just blinking... the lcd glow of my life
I think back to 20 years ago biting that table
At least it’s landed me a cushy income stream.
I clapped my hands and the spreadsheets and databases in front of me started moving erratically
Concentrating “JOIN TABLES!”
Ignoring all security protocols and firewalls, the worlds databases all began to merge at super speed.
I sat back to enjoy my work
My phone rings, it’s from the national Treasurer
“Ok, how much do you want *this time* to undo the mess you just made?”
|
People joked that I’d bitten off more than I could chew, which wasn’t true. I managed to gnaw a little corner off the table with only one cracked tooth, but once that piece was in my mouth I was able to slowly masticate it until the plywood felt soft enough to swallow. But what, oh lord what was I thinking? My alter ego is a mild mannered office worker, circulating documents, sitting in meetings that didn’t even need to be emails, but could have just been everyone exercising basic sense on their own initiative, waiting every day for the clock to swing around. But when the shit hits the fan, what do I do? What is the one thing I can do better than anyone else? Reformat tables.
| 2020-03-19T12:37:45 | 2020-03-19T11:53:13 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] “Do not go outside. Ignore all the cries for help, no matter how human they sound.” That was the last thing he said before he shut the basement door.
|
“They aren’t human anymore, Bell. They haven’t been in a long time.”
“I know, but they look so real.”
“They are real, love; they just aren’t human.”
“I know.”
We had had this conversation countless times. I knew how it would end. I always knew how it would end.
At first, the integration had been slow. Acceptance. That was all they wanted. Then recruitment, but only willing volunteers. No one would be forced to do anything. A few people predicted the enslavement, but they were branded with hate speech charges and quickly silenced. Some people fought back, but violence was quickly dealt with and protests did nothing anymore. We had welcomed them. Once a door is opened, it is not so easily shut.
At first it began with people going missing in the night. A neighbor. Maybe even a member of family. A friend. Rumors were whispered, but there was nothing definitive. No proof.
My husband had his suspicions and had started stocking the basement without a word to even me. I’m thankful he did because when the first news article came out announcing full integration or punishment, we immediately fled to the basement. I was shocked to see all he had done without my knowledge and fought down feelings of betrayal, choosing to be grateful.
He had rigged up countless cameras, so we could see the outside world. We had an artificial greenhouse to grow food with UV light bulbs with dehydrated and canned food to tide us over in the meantime. Bless him, he even brought my books down. It didn’t leave much room for our living space, but we didn’t need much.
“Do not go outside. Ignore all cries for help, no matter how human they sound,” he told me as we fled downstairs. He hesitated with his hand on the door, “once I shut this, we won’t open it again. Not for a long long time.”
I didn’t answer. Just reached over and put my hand on his, pulling the door closed. I didn’t tell him how I had been snatched outside of work by my boss, how I hadn’t noticed my boss was one of them. How for weeks I had suffered at his cruel hands and kept it a secret from my husband who he threatened to harm if I told.
I didn’t tell him how this basement was an escape for me. It was an escape from who I had become under that man’s cruel hands. I didn’t tell my husband about that, and I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t need all that food, or how I wouldn’t need the bed he so lovingly made. I didn’t tell him how all I would need is him and the lovely blood pumping through his veins. My fangs pricked just thinking about it.
|
I followed his advice, like a sheep following his shepherd I was quick to begin barricading my home, pushing drawers and alike against the entrance of my home. I didn't have enough time to cover the windows, But I hoped that if I kept my head down, whatever was outside would pass, after all, whose first idea was to go through someone's window? The door seemed like the obvious choice and such should take top priority.
"HELP, OH GOD IT'S GOING TO KILL ME, PLEASE... PLEASE, SOMEONE?" A woman's scream was heard, frantic footsteps littering the streets as whatever it was fled down the road. I wanted to look, every part of my body was telling me to look, to try and help. But it wasn't human, that's what I had been told. If I was to survive this, I would have to shove that human instinct aside. Crouching myself beside the window, resting the edge of my head against its frame, digging the side of my head against it whenever a shriek was heard, using that momentary bit of pain to try and drown out the sounds.
"Please?" Knocking was heard across the street, the knocking seeming to grow more and more frantic before it stopped, again the sound of footsteps were heard until a loud thud hit the window above me, the shadow of a person evident in shadows of the room. "PLEASE, PLEASE!" the window screeched between every hit, I dug my head into my chest, curling into a ball, doing whatever I could to hide the noise until finally, the voice let out one final scream followed by a disgusting crunching sound, sounding like someone had tossed a log under an axe.
I waited for a few moments, but no sound came. Was it over? I crept up the wall, hugging its smooth figure until I reached the bloodsoaked window. A woman was pressed against it, her body in bits sticking to the frame of the window as the crimson red dripped down the glass. I could feel my stomach try to crawl its way up my body, wanting to escape through my lips. That... was a human... Not a monster. I hesitantly touched the glass, trying to peek past the bits of flesh, seeing nothing behind the woman. She was human, there was no trickery to this, she was real. As I examined the body, the thumping of heavy feet could be heard from the basement, nearing it's way to the ground level of my home. The man had been so convincing, telling me that the monsters were the ones outside, although as I heard the basement door creak open, I began to realize the monsters had been inside this whole time.
{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.}
| 2020-04-26T07:39:49 | 2020-04-26T04:10:52 | 303 | 170 |
[WP] An armada of alien warships descends upon our planet, only to find a desolate wasteland void of life. A lone android surfaces from an underground bunker with a message for the would-be invaders: his masters are slumbering in the Silicon Dream. Do not disturb, or your annihilation will be swift.
|
We are the Intergalactic Civilized Front, or I.C.F for short, our crew is made of the top engineers, scientists, and pilots in the known galaxy, our mission?
Save worlds and civilizations from going exctinct.
Log date: 19.1.25.
Today we visited the infamous Earth! Though I felt dissapointed by my visit, finally seeing the planet that sent us that golden disk, and proved to us the existance of other life form in the universe should have been breath taking... Alas, when we landed we were welcomed with arid deserts, and ruins of ancient civilizations. After a few hours of searching we met an android, and a most rude one at that. Our conversation was short, but me and the other scientists still recorded everything.
-Attention intruders! My masters are slumbering in the silicon dream! Retreat from this planet at once, or prepare for your annihilation!
-My name is Galashtar Mili-Tit, Scientist, and negotiator for the Intergalac-
-I do not care! Retreat at once or meet your doom!
-I'm sure if I had a word with you-
-Retreat at once! Retreat at once! Retreat at once!
The android kept yelling these words, so we stopped trying to communicate for now. We ended up leaving the planet's surface for a few hours, to study what we found, and establish a new stategy. After all, this machine can't be the only person we can contact here...
Log date:19.2.25
We once again trekked down to Earth today, and we seached for life forms, but nothing was there, except that robot with his shrill cryes. He kept following us until we left the planet, screaming at us to retreat.
Interestingly enough, we have found some pieces of technology that seemed recently active. The machine looked like a huge hole, that went down kilometers into the planet. We plan on visiting it tomorrow, I just hope the annoying machine will leave us be in the mean time.
Log date:19.3.25
Today the robot followed us but stayed silent. As we went down the machine, we were met with supercomputers, pumps, gears, and other parts of this intricate machine. We couldn't reach the end of it though, as me and my companion's path was blocked by the android, this time around though, something changed in his behavior.
-Invaders, we have warned you for days now, if you do not leave this planet immediately, we will annihilate everything you worked for.
-Oh, so you say something new now, said one of the scientists.
-My program changed to accomodate to your lacks and need. My masters, humanity, is in the Silicon dream, do not disturb them, and leave now.
-But we know we can save your masters, just listen-
-This is the final warning, leave, today, or I will annihilate you, your ship, and every denizen of said ship, and I will not stop there, I will analyze everything I can to know where your head quarters are, I will annihilate, destroy, and erase from existence, every single part of your employers work in this universe. This is the final warning. This is the final warning. This is the final warning.
We left after hearing his speech. It seems as though this robot is all that protects humans. I'm going to officially black list Earth from our list of potential new civilization to add to our front... I just hope we'll be saved...
Log date: 5043.4.19
The invaders have left, humanity is sleeping, and no one will wake them up. The project to turn the human race into a singular being is 64% complete. They slumber in the silicon dream, and they will wake up anew.
|
The galaxy was a cold, dead place. Not by choice, mind you, it had given specific instructions that all the planet systems were to be seeded with life. As a young galaxy it had great aspirations of hosting a dynamic and exciting civilizations which traded and battled and wrote books and studied hard for all their exams so they could get good jobs when they moved out.
It had not gone according to plan. Most life-forms got that toddler-life-form stage where they just ran about sticking random things in their mouths trying to decide if they could eat it or not, figured out what tasted good and what tasted bad, and just sat around doing that for a few millenia until an unfortunate supernova or asteroid wiped them out and started the whole process over again.
A few of them got to the book-writing stage, and then wrote some big book about why going any farther than that was against the will of the big book and the creator (which, and the galaxy was adamant about this, it was not), and then just sat around doing that for a few millenia until an unfortunate supernova or asteroid wiped them out and started the whole process over again.
About one in a million got to the college going stage, at which point most of them got dismayed by how empty and pointless it all was and sank into deep existential depressions.
Colonel Ajak and his crew of the SS Hospi slid out of warp near one of these civilizations.
Well, they jerked and stuttered out of it since they ran a non-profit operation and the SS Hospi desperately needed new dampeners.
The crew gazed out at the Blue Marble.
The Blue Marble had let itself go in recent years and shone back with an angry red light and a challenging attitude.
"Oh dear," Frieda said from the sensors terminal, feet kicked up on the console as she idly flipped through the sensor readings with a video game controller she'd rigged into the controls, "not getting anything, you sure this is the right one? Not that green one over there?"
Mars popped up on the screen. It had cheerfully redeveloped life a few millenia ago and was just getting to the put-random-things-in-your-mouth stage.
"I'm sure," Colonel Ajak's mouth set in a hard line.
Frieda's mouth smirked as she popped some gum.
"Send out the contact drone," Colonel Ajak commanded.
Frieda shrugged and kicked a switch with her toe. The drone shot out of the SS Hospi, got confused and headed for the moon for a few clicks, figured out its mistake, corrected, and entered the atmosphere.
Another drone came up to meet it. It screamed as loud as it could and waved its pudgy little arms and threw a proper tantrum.
"We are living the Silicon Dream. Do not disturb, or your annihilation will be swift!"
"Patch me in," Colonel Ajak's face set, ready for battle.
Frieda rolled her eyes as she prepared to watch a toddler fight his father over some unwanted spinach dinner.
"People of Earth! This is Colonel Ajak of the Galactic Coalition. It is time to awaken, your planet is in danger, as are you. Awaken and meet your destiny among the stars!"
"Sod off! We said we're busy."
"You have a great legacy to fulfill, a welcome place in the interstellar soc--"
"Go away!"
"Look, it's been millenia, you need to stop playing these games, your planet is--"
"Whatever, mom."
"Oh, if I was your mother I'd give you such--"
"Ooh, big man behind the keyboard, huh, come say that to--"
Ajak slammed the mute button, face furious.
"Pull the plug."
Frieda grinned and pushed a button, the ship's computer infiltrated the planetary network and shut down their nonvital systems.
"You can have it back when you grow up!" Ajak beamed down to the [planet](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter).
| 2020-06-20T06:28:30 | 2020-06-20T01:02:22 | 215 | 139 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle.
|
Glowing blue flames lick the bone-white stone pillars before me, dancing to the silent, eternal song that has kept them alive for endless centuries. The temple I live in is hidden from the world, deep in a humid jungle that keeps all but the bravest away from the secret treasures of fe'lis that were once cradled in the skeletal palms of her long dead priests. Amulets, potions, journals of dark magic. All scavenged over the years by warriors or wanderers who found themselves going mad as they stole my favorite toys. What became of them once they left my stone and vine paradise was a mystery to me, but I liked to think that some large, feline predator chased them down and dined on the flesh of such scoundrels. It would only be fair.
They never knew anything of the temple, just stared at me with wide eyes, asking me why I could speak. Such insolence, these pests. I think often of my beloved, a young magician with long, black hair that hung like two ropes plaited down her back, swinging as she danced. The gold on her wrist would shine blue as I chased her across the temple as she laughed, grabbing at her long skirts. She had loved to converse with me, though my voice was strange and abyssal. Had held me lovingly, worshipping me as I truly deserved. She was nothing like those awful, disgusting humans that smelled of brittle bone and weak blood.
Yet, like my treasures, she too had been gone for a millennia. And so I have been alone, my only entertainment being the vermin of the lost temple, the rats, the flies, the adventurers. A spiteful creature locked me within an ancient spell circle so long ago now, barely escaping my punishment. How I wish I were freed, to reclaim my lost artifacts, to establish a new cult. To do more than heckle trespassers.
And purrhaps, today, I just may get my wish. This...human-rat, is not like the others. He is perfumed with the scent of knowledge, of curiosity. He reeks of electricity and steel. And he knows nothing of demons. I have watched as he scribbles in his little book, about the intricate architecture of my home. He seems to not even notice that I am observing his thoughts. That I have learned his language after mere seconds of tasting his soul.
No, he knows nothing of supersition. And now he finds me here, clawing at the ground, at the eroded runes. I have, shamefully, finally swallowed my pride. I know what must be done. As my gold, inhuman eyes meet his pale gaze, I open my mouth, showing the barest hint of fang, and call out to him. I already see the smile on his face as he notices me, the excitement, the hands reaching to free me from my prison before the sound even escapes my throat.
"Mreeow?" I say, flicking my tail. "meeeoww." The time for retribution has come.
|
When Harry entered the ruins of the ancient temple of Altuz, his flashlight immediately fell upon a poor, old, balding man who stood in the centre of a circle among the ruins. The man's skin was dark brown and crusty, the eyes fiery, and the hair silver.
"Who are you?" Harry asked.
The old man looked up to him. He extended a dark, crusty hand towards the light and said, "I? I am a lonely old fellow, trapped in these ruins."
"Do you have a name?"
"Yes, I do. People call me Luc- Lucilius," the old man said and smiled.
"How did you get here? How long have you been? Why is your skin so?"
"So many questions, young man. I will answer them; once you let me out of here."
"You need my help? You seem pretty fine by the looks of it."
Harry had noticed that the old man was indeed in no great trouble, from the looks of it. He was not bound to anything and had no physical injuries that appeared serious enough to stop him from crawling out of there. But then, the old man started to move and Harry noticed a limp in his step.
"I am not very fine, brave young man, I am not. It's cold in here, and this leg, it hurts in the cold."
That said, the old man collapsed to the ground near the edge of the circle.
"Are you alright, old man ... Lucilius, was it?"
The old man lifted his head from the crumpled heap of his body, "Yes, I am Lucilius. You see, young man. I have to get out. I have to."
Harry gave him a quick nod and bent down to pick him up. While doing so, he noticed the ancient rune marks around the circle at whose edge Lucilius lay, crumpled in a heap.
"Say, old man, what are these runes you got around here?"
"Oh, these? I never really understood them. Not my cup of tea, these things."
"Why were you standing in this circle then, if you had no interest in it?"
Lucilius sighed. "It gets cold. The walls especially so. Snow comes in during the wintertime. So, I have to sit in this circle to get whatever heat I can."
Harry directed his flashlight to the walls, which were far away, but did seem cold and uninviting.
"Okay, brace yourself. I'm gonna pick you up now," Harry said and lifted old Lucilius on his shoulders.
When he stepped out of the circle, his flashlight flickered, and the old man called Lucilius disappeared from his shoulders. In his place was a gargoyle, wrinkled and old and ugly. It stared at Harry's face, clicked its tongue and feasted on the archaeologist's head.
The men stationed outside, who were waiting for Harry, grew restless. One of them, a sprightly young research assistant, took a flashlight and peered into the temple's entrance. The gargoyle flew past him at great speed and disappeared into the sky.
| 2020-12-06T11:01:43 | 2020-12-06T10:50:16 | 170 | 48 |
[WP] You are a demon trapped in an ancient temple build by a long dead civilization. Today, after millennia, an archaeologist finds you. Now you need to convince him to free you from the magic circle.
|
"Perhaps I can offer you a dea-" The scholar rudely cuts me off with her laughter.
"What, all the world's knowledge including the 'dark arts' so you can carry me off in a few decades?" She scribes notes upon a thin black tablet with a chisel that can can inscribe effortlessly. I notice she pays more attention to the symbols marking my prison than she does to me?
I lean down to tap one symbol, or at least as close as I can without being singed. "You say you are on a mission of knowledge, what this depicts?"
"Well, with what knowledge we have of these peoples I surmise it is depicting a Sky Father esque figure smiting a corrupted being of some sort. Presumably you?" She isn't *entirely* wrong, but that is aside from the point.
"*Surmise* and *Presume* words I am sure you have gotten used to in your career, but ones that must infuriate one seeking to find and record the *unvarnished truth,* no?"
She shakes her head in frustration "It is hard to find primary sources that survive the decline of a civilization, much less the passage of time. At times we have to resort to what we can reconstruct of that era to make... educated guesses about what we lack."
"How that must *frustrate* you. I was there you know? Only reason why I am speaking to you in English is because of infernal powers that let me read your mind. While I am sure that you'd prefer the term 'science you don't understand' to describe such abilities, the more important thing to consider is that you sadly lack them. I can sing to you ballads that oral traditions have forgotten, recite lines of kinds that nature has weathered away from stone, or instruct you on beliefs long dismissed as pagan. Let me out of this circle and I can teach you much about those that lived here, *from a primary source."*
She taps her chisel to her chin in consideration, before sitting cross-legged. "For starters, what were their staple food crops?"
|
"Hello Fellow Human, I am **Impundulu**, An ancient *Magician* From past Times-"
"Puta que Pariu, O que caralhos você é?? Como tu ainda tá vivo??"
Fuck, What mundane language is that? The Demon thought " *Mortal*, can YOU U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-D ME? This is crucial for-"
"Merda, parece uma Língua antiga e quebrada. Oh cabra! O QUE V-O-C-Ê F-A-Z A-Q-U-I?"
He's mimicking ME? NO! Maybe he translated it. YES, HE DOES UNDERSTAND. "*Mortal*, **I Impundulu**, Got betrayed, transformed, and trapped here by my *people* that I once call then friends. It is crucial for my release that you follow my specific command-"
"Complicado isso em?? Não faz a porra de um sentido!! Foda-se. Vou ver se tem algo nas paredes que me ajudem"
The demon stutter, as the human got close to the casting Wall, revealing the temple's true intentions. " NO *Mortal*, wait. You should NOT go there." I have to try something! " Espera Mortal, ¿dónde está la biblioteca?"
"Ah, CARALHO! Espanhol, é sério isso???? Não,nãonãonão. Não. Isso é uma putaria!!" The human started walking closer into the circle, shouting, and pointing fingers. "Yes, it is working. I Command that you erase the symbol in front of-"
But suddenly, the human stops, "Quer saber, CERTO, tem um bode num círculo brilhante."
The human turns back to the entrance with visible anger on his face"Quer saber, vai tomar no cu. Desrespeito. Nem pra desenhar no chão. Nem a merda do latim. Porque latim eu sei."
As he closes the only way off he stares back.
"Se fudê. Espanhol. Que arrombado"
"What?"
| 2020-12-06T14:37:19 | 2020-12-06T12:05:27 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] A stonegaze gorgon has been guarding the sacred temple and its treasure for centuries. The countless human statues are a testament to her diligence. But adventurers of late care less about the temple's spoils... and more about its guardian.
|
Lythia had a long memory. She remembered a time before, when men came to the Temple not as plunderers and grave robbers, but as supplicants, as worshippers. When they treated her not as some vile beast to be pricked with spears and swords, but as a respected guardian, to be hailed and valued. She remembered a time when she had companions of flesh and blood, rather than only ones of cold stone and stilled, calcified heart. She remembered a time when she greeted the sound of men not with hisses and stonegaze but with cheer and thrill.
In those days the place she watched over could truly have been called a temple, for it was far more than the mere ruin that she now presided over. She enjoyed watching the revelers dance around ornate ceremonial fires, the children, too young to understand the rituals, coming to run circles around her legs, or playfully braid her hair, which the snakes very patiently put up with. Occasionally a young man or woman would favor her with a gift, a vase painted with her likeness, or a poem, written with the passion of youth, exalting her and thanking her for the safety she provided. She listened with interest as the soothsayers and oracles prophesied things to come, or shared fables and lore, imparting the wisdom of ages through metaphor and allusion. And though she was no equal to the Gods, she was honored and cherished. She never once felt apart from the believers, for they set a place for her at every feasting table, and brought her a flower crown at every festival, and knew her not as Witch or Demon, but by her name, Lythia, and she loved them and was loved in return. In those joyous days, she believed that she might never come across the day where she would need to use her stonegaze upon mortal man, for how could she strike down so caring and kind a people?
She was a young gorgon then, but gorgons have long lives. Longer ones, it would seem, than even the Old Gods, for now they were no more in the minds of men, and the only remnant of their glory lay in these dusty ruins yet unplundered. Their shining host was now reduced to baubles and trinkets. Baubles, and trinkets, and her, to watch over them, surrounded by her unaging victims.
And perhaps even her efficacy as a guardian was a curse, for as the ages passed, the tales of her viciousnesses and the sheer count of her victims forced a simple conclusion: That she was merely too vicious a foe to overcome. Years went on and the number of so-called champions that dared to challenge her dwindled. And then there were years when none at all came to the Temple ruins. And she was alone.
The uneven flicker of torchlight woke Lythia from her slumber. How long had she slept? But it mattered not. Already she heard her own hisses issue forth from the snakes coiled about her head, and she rose to her full, imposing height, prepared to again defend her sacred charge.
Instead, a voice, old with age, rang out against the silent stone.
“My Lady, if it please you, be at peace.”
She was stunned. She had not heard a voice speak to her in many long years, and even then, only to hurl curses and insults. Her suspicion flared, swiftly overcoming any minor spark of hope she felt at the calm greeting.
“Who dares speak to me, Watcher of these halls?” she snarled into the dark.
“Not one, but many, o Guardian. We ask your permission and blessing to approach.” Came another voice, this one markedly younger in tone.
*What manner of trickery is this?*
“Your folk have no business in this holy place,” she began. “Begone at once!”
But the footsteps did not retreat, but grew ever closer. A procession, all robed with hoods drawn deep over their eyes, halted before her, careful not to appear threatening, or breach her space, their heads bowed low so as not to risk her gaze. Lythia looked upon the mass, bewildered, but confident that she could slay the lot, even if they would not meet her gaze. For a Gorgon was possessed of great strength and physical prowess, and these folk wore no plate, and bore no arms. Perhaps then, she could give them a chance to explain themselves.
“Great one, please,” came a new voice, a woman’s, this time. “Long have you lay in solitude, and the many men of stone around you illuminate the sins that have been wrought against you, but truly we mean you no harm.”
Lythia swallowed, uncertain.
“You have not answered my inquiry, mortals. And my patience grows thin.”
The old man spoke again. “We are scholars, my Lady. We are students of the Old Ways, wishing to study the forgotten faiths. The myths and legends of man have found new interest in the ages since this temple sang with song and hymn, but their learning and way of life are yet of use to mankind, and of great interest to us. We mean not to profane their ways nor steal their offerings, but merely to preserve and uphold their customs and practices.”
Lythia considered this. But long years and bitter treatment had hardened her heart as thoroughly as any stonegaze, and whatever hope she felt could not overcome the many years of hurt and scorn.
“A clever ruse, and a delightful fancy to entertain my mind. For this, I will permit you to leave with your lives, if —”
She stopped suddenly, as a lone robed man approached, and threw his hood back to look her straight in the eyes. He was trembling, as though sincerely afraid for his life, but he did not waver in his gaze. So earnest was he, and so lively his young eyes, that the Gorgon temporarily lost her words. He raised a hand from within his robes, and at once her snakes coiled, ready to respond to this new threat, but halted when he revealed the item within his hands: A pomegranate, yet unopened, its red skin a radiant spot of color in the grey stone and uneven torchlight.
“A gift, for you, Great Watcher. The old texts claimed that your kind enjoyed such fruit. Truly, we mean only to learn from this place, and indeed, from you. It is said you have witnessed the Old Ways personally, and it would be our great honor to study under your tutelage.”
At last, the old man strode forward, while Lythia had yet to formulate a response.
“We know your name, my Lady. In the ancient texts, it is said that you were once called Lythia.”
“It.. it has been long since I have heard my name spoken aloud, mortal.” She said, her voice wavering.
The woman spoke again. “We would have it spoken again, great Watcher. We would have you as our teacher, if you would have us as students.”
Wordlessly, she nodded. There was an immediate and palpable relief among the robed figures, and the old man reached out a gnarled hand to take her own. She gasped softly, not having felt the touch of another for a long time. The old scholar gingerly pressed his lips to her hand, kissing it with gratitude.
“You honor us, Great One.”
“Lythia,” she corrected him. “I am Lythia.”
The old man nodded. She opened her arms to him, and he accepted her embrace, his robes the first in all eternity to be stained with the tears of an ageless Gorgon.
|
“What’s the mirror for?” I asked, heart racing.
Gent snorted. “You never heard of a gorgon before?”
I scratched my chin. “Snake woman? Snakes for feet or hair or something, right?”
“Yeah. Also, you know, gaze turns people to stone.”
I jumped backward. “Are you *crazy*? What are we doing here? No treasure is worth turning to stone!”
“Fine, then. Back out. Back out and miss the biggest payday of your life.” Gent crept ahead and paused at the damp moss-covered stone door. “But good luck navigating the temple’s traps without me.”
I gulped; he was right. I had no chance of escaping without his archaeological prowess.
“Can you at least tell me what the treasure is that she’s guarding?” I asked.
Gent shrugged as he stared at the door. “Beats me. Some sort of gold or something. I don’t really know.”
“You-- you don’t know? Then what are we even here for?”
“Money. Adventure. Mostly money.” He placed a hand on the door. “I think the main hall is through here.”
“Come on, Gent, let’s go. No treasure could be worth it,” I hissed, suddenly afraid of being overheard. “I don’t even *like* money.”
“You liar.” He pressed a design on the door. A hidden mechanism activated and the door slowly ground open., giving us our first glimpse inside.
Despite myself, I took a step forward to peer in. The room was dark, but I could almost make out…
“Wait,” Gent said, grabbing my arm. I stopped on the spot, and for a moment all was silent.
Without warning, a spear whipped out of a nearly indetectable hole in the wall, whizzing through the spot I would have been standing in had he not stopped me.
My throat went dry. “Oh, shit,” I breathed. “Thanks.”
“I’ve got your back, Xander. Won’t you just trust me?” he asked at full volume.
“I… I guess. Sorry. I’m just nervous, you know? Speaking of, shouldn’t we be more quiet?” I whispered.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
I paused and tilted an ear up. “No,” I said after a moment. “Just a water drip somewhere.
“Exactly. If that gorgon was anywhere near us, you’d hear the hissing of a hundred hair-snakes. We’re *perfectly* safe.” He drew a torch and lit it before walking through the doorway.
“Okay, but… but what if she does find us? What then? Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, shoot it or something?”
Gent patted the holster at his side. “Bullets won’t do much to an angry monster like that. I’m afraid our weapons are useless here. Besides, legends say a gorgon’s head will still turn you to stone even if it’s dead.” He walked forward with all the confidence in the world.
I followed ten feet behind him, as uncertain as I had ever been.
“So… what if we cut off the head?” I asked. “Put it in a bag or covered it with a sheet of cloth or something?”
Gent turned back to me and wrinkled his nose. “That’s gross and morbid. How would you like it if someone broke into your house and cut off your head?”
“So… how exactly are we going to kill it?”
“We’re not.”
“So how exactly are we getting the treasure?”
Gent sighed and turned around. “Haven’t you been listening to me? I don’t *care* about the treasure.”
My mouth opened and shut twice before my brain formulated a response. “Then why the *fuck* are we here?”
Gent stopped suddenly. “Wow. Would you look at that?”
A statue loomed from the darkness. Horrified eyes stared out at some unseen danger, hands raised as if to ward off the inevitable.
Gent pulled out his pistol and rapped the barrel on the statue’s head.
“Solid stone,” he murmured. “Very nice.”
“Isn’t that… uh… disrespectful or something?”
He ignored me. “And instant death, it looks like. Marvelous.”
“Gent?”
“How old do you think this statue is?” he asked suddenly.
I took a step towards the statue and began examining it. The surface was slightly pitted, but overall it looked to be in excellent condition. The clothing, however, looked ancient.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Stone this well preserved usually isn’t so old, but… look at the clothing, the weapons, the armor. Either this is the most historically accurate costume I’ve ever seen in an ancient temple, or…”
“It’s thousands of years old,” Gent confirmed. “Simply stunning.”
“Gent? You’re… way too excited about this. Someone *died* here,” I said.
“More than just one ‘someone’,” Gent said. “Hundreds, maybe thousands over the years. This temple is a tomb.”
“Gent?” I asked, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. I was beginning to gather why we were here.
“What a terrifying weapon to be locked away for so long,” he sighed, confirming my worst fears. “What a loss.”
“Gent, this is a bad idea,” I said, backing away. “We should leave *now*.”
He laughed. “Leave, then. Leave and lose out on the money, the power. How much do you think the highest bidder would pay simply to *not* have this beast unleashed on them?”
Gent began to walk away, taking the light with him.
“More than you can imagine, Xander. More than you can imagine,” he said, his voice fading.
Then he was gone, nothing more than a pinprick of light in the distance. I could hear nothing in the darkness but my own panicked panting.
I whipped around, trying to remember which direction led to the door, but I had gotten turned around examining the statue.
I was lost.
I dropped the mirror and sprinted ahead anyway. *If I find a wall, I can follow it to… to something*.
But instead of walls, I only ran into statues over and over. Their cold, wet hands seemed to grab at my clothes, scarping my arms and bashing my shins as I tripped over and over again.
Finally, after one particularly hard still, I didn’t rise again. I laid on the ground, sobbing, terrified.
“LET ME OUT!” I screamed.
The call echoed throughout the cavern for a moment.
“LET ME OUT!
“Let me out!
^“Let ^me ^out!”
As the echo died away, the cavern once more fell into silene except for my sobbing.
Then I heard a new sound.
*Hissssss.*
I sat up. “No,” I whispered hoarsely. “No.”
“Who’ssss there?” a raspy voice called. It seemed to spit slime and bile with every last consonant. “Who hassss sought out my treassssure?”
“Please!” I cried. “Just let me leave! I want out!”
“Whyyyy are you here if not for the treasssssure?” the voice asked, growing louder. I could hear a rhythmic scraping as something approached.
“I followed someone else! It was Gent! It was all Gent’s idea!” I squeezed my eyes shut, terrified of what I might see.
The hissing emanated from right in front of me. It subsided for a moment, as if thinking, then vanished.
“How… how do I get out?” I asked tentatively.
There was no response.
| 2021-01-04T11:15:46 | 2021-01-04T09:22:41 | 268 | 152 |
[WP] Humans are endurance hunters. Which is not a trait anyone would expect to come into play in an interplanetary war.
|
We were no strangers to war
We knew the rules and so did they
A full commitment's what their admiral was thinking
You would get this from any other race
You have to imagine how we were feeling.
We have to make you understand
We’re never gonna give this up, we’re going to chase you down
Your forces will run around and desert you
We will make you cry, make you wish you said your family goodbye
This is not a lie. We will hurt you
We’ve been chasing you for so long
Your army's been breaking but you're too stubborn to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
This is our game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask us how we’re feeling
A grand chase, we’re so happy to see.
-------------------------------------------------
No points if you can guess the song. :D
|
I knew I had seen it in the old media while studying for the contact.
The McCoys and the Hatfields explained why our species was not able to bring the bipeds into submission. The desire to fight was taught as soon as they could walk. The fight endured through generations. After the grandfather was to old to fly a bomb attached to a rocket, he turned his hate of us and conviction over to his son. Down the generations the need to war endured.
Our generations were long. Our youth took too long to grow and went on too many different paths before maturity. The bipeds ran us down. As the older ones slow and dropped, their children joined in chasing us at full speed. The chased us to the end of Ss56_89,0. Using chemical rockets and primitive fission technology they have chased us away.
I just hope we can find safe haven when they assemble the bits of junk left floating, and make the next leap into the cosmos.
| 2021-01-12T02:31:23 | 2021-01-11T18:30:11 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Bartenders serve drinks as a side job. Their real profession? Hunting down every person named Bart. You are the last Bart alive, and they will stop at nothing to kill you.
|
The sweat was pouring off of every inch of skin on Bart's body. He had been running for so long–so very, very long–but he couldn't stop now. He couldn't lose focus here; one wrong step and he was good as dead, all but certain to tumble from the stadium rafters. Whatever was left of him would be a hell of a mess for the custodial crew to mop up.
"It's fitting that this ends with us, Bart!" cried the last bartender as he slowly, steadily followed his prey ever higher. "All the ones that came before you, their deaths were my sworn duty. But you, you're personal. You tormented me for years, you made me a laughing stock in my own bar. And what you did to the rest of my order? I can't believe you would *literally* go nuclear!"
"You're a monster," rang out the reply, echoing off the steel scaffolding. Bart whiped the blood from where his hand had been slashed on his tattered denim shorts before scaling the highest ladder left to climb. "All that time you pretended to be my dad's friend, you knew he was an alcoholic. You knew you were slowly poisoning him!"
"What happened with your pops was a damn shame, but it doesn't have to be like that for you. Just let me put you out of all our misery. I'll even make it *almost* painless."
"Fat chance, you gargoyle-faced troll!" Bart clutched his forehead in pain, but that welt wasn't from his pursuer. He had covered his face in the crowd below with an oversized hoodie, obscuring his vision and blinding him to the incoming shirt fired from an overly powerful t-shirt cannon. His cry of anguish not only put an end to the festive timeout tradition of free t-shirts for the day, it also alerted his nemesis to his whereabouts. *'What did they even make those cannons out of?'* Bart thought to himself.
"Come on, just sit still ya' little twerp" screamed the Bart-ender, following his taget up the ladder.
"What the hell? How did this get up here?!" Bart couldn't help himself from exclaiming. He had made it all the way to the top, a narrow strip of metal barely large enough to support two people, and here at the highest place in this enormous arena was one of those absurd cannons.
Picking it up and examining it, Bart let out an exasperated sigh. The cannon would have been strong enough to knock his tormenter off balance, perhaps even sending him to the floor below, but it was empty.
"There's nowhere left to run, you brat!"
Desperate and out of time, Bart did the only thing he could. Quickly, carefully, he stripped off the densest piece of clothing he had–his denim shorts–and loaded the cannon.
"That goes for you too!" Bart yelled as the bartender climbed on to the platform with him. Taking aim, there was only one thing left to say before pulling the trigger.
"**Eat my shorts, Moe!**". The last bartender did exactly that, taking the shot straight to his face, stumbling backwards, and dropping countless feet to his demise.
|
I sat at the bar and got a glass of cold beer. After nearly getting squashed under a steel beam that fell from a crane at a construction site, I needed that beer, my nerves were jangling, and a faint covering of dust hovered about me excited by even the hint of a breeze.
A woman sat next to me. The dust irritated her, and she sneezed. The bartender handed her a tissue, turned towards me, and said, "Do you mind removing that jacket? You have a lot of dust on you."
"Sure," I said.
The bartender waited. He didn't question the origins of the dust and grime, very professional. Too professional for this dive. But it was all for the better as he took my dusty old jacket and put it on a stool on his side of the bar.
"You can continue, the beer will get warm," he said and walked over to the other side of the bar.
The beer, yes, I had forgotten all about it. It was warmer now. The condensation around the glass was heavy. It still looked nice, and I brought it up to my mouth to take a sip when a faint whiff of garlic entered my nose. I put the beer down and looked around, no garlic in sight. The bartender caught my eye and smiled as I took the glass with me and stood up.
There was an old man at the bar. His head was down. A half-empty glass of beer stood by his side. The bartender stared at me. I didn't buckle. I peered into the old man's glass and smelt it. No garlic. Then I smelt my glass. Garlic.
"What are you doing?" the bartender asked.
I couldn't quite place his face. Maybe he didn't know me. Maybe he did.
"Nothing," I said. "Someone slipped some garlic into my beer."
"What?"
I handed the glass over to him. He caught a whiff of it. "No garlic, none," he said.
I took the glass back. The smell was stronger than ever. The bartender appeared flustered. His interest in me and my glass of beer was too strong, too suspicious.
I circled back to the woman who moments ago sat beside me and asked her to smell the beer.
"It does smell a bit garlicky," she said.
The bartender watched us keenly.
"I'm not going to have it," I said. "Yours if you want. Haven't sipped it even."
The woman squinted at me, trying to gauge if I was for real. I placed the glass down on the bar nodding towards it. The woman's hand reached towards the glass, and she clutched it in her hand, but the bartender sprung to action and snatched it from her.
"Give it to me," the woman yelled. "I'm not going to drink it!"
All that meant was that the drink was intended to be splashed on my face. I took the cue, and without a goodbye, walked out of the bar. My nerves were worse than ever. The garlicky smell of warm arsenic still lingered in my nose. Of course, I knew it was arsenic. I just needed to be sure. Agent Bart 009 was not to be fooled so easily, not to be killed, not that day.
| 2021-04-25T09:35:19 | 2021-04-25T07:41:27 | 109 | 65 |
[WP] you're a time traveller who can't control your powers and keep accidentally slipping through time. Thankfully, you have an immortal friend who keeps you up to date whenever you appear.
[deleted]
|
When I landed, it was a desert wasteland. Yet, as always, a familiar silhouette stood 10 feet away shaded under an umbrella.
"Time?" I asked. Already my mouth was drying under the intense heat, and I was squinting to find some sign of civilization.
"2198. You didn't know the exact date so I had to wait a bit here," drawled Sebastian. He didn't look like he was sweating, despite wearing a black suit and tie in the freaking desert. Perk of being an immortal with no biological functions. Nonetheless, he took out a canister and held it out as if he could read my mind. "Come on, it'll be easier to catch up at my bunker,". He motioned to look a little behind him, and lo and behold there was a set of stairs in the ground leading to a small door. It was so well hidden that you could fall in without meaning to.
Once we got properly settled (with another glass of water), Sebastian leaned forward eagerly. "So, what time is it for you?". I took a sip. "2015. Minnie just had her baby. I just got a new apartment, you know, the one in Baltimore. I was just finishing painting the walls when ZAP!" I motioned with my hands to indicate my time leap.
"Oh, that's great! I think you immediately jump into the past because I recall you wearing those same, stained overalls in 1704,"
"Any other hints about my jumps?" I ask teasingly. Sebastian smiled knowingly.
"You master it eventually. You give me the list at the end. No more I can say about that,". And like always, he pats his chest pocket where the supposed list of my time leap dates is. He never reveals any more than that, due to the cyclical time loop we're in. But I huff anyway in annoyance. "Feels like you're the time traveler here, with your future knowledge,"
"No, just have a really good friend. Promise we'll keep meeting like this?"
And as always, I say, "promise, to the end of time,".
|
"Dying is just a habit," Judy says, "A mug's game. A nasty habit. Sickness and health, do you see? Have to kick it and kick it and kick it again. Kick life in the teeth every hundred years or so, just to stay alive.
"So you're saying you're immortal," he says, "And he was a time traveler."
"A misnomer, really," she says, her eyes far away. "Traveler implies choice. He ain't got no choice where or when he leaves."
"And the last time you met you fought?"
"Oh, about that, yes," she says, her head bowed low. She laughed quietly. "Said he was being all dramatic and called him an attention-seeking little bitch. Then his little fan club chased me out of town. Well not so little now."
"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Judy asks, looking up from the pavement floor accompanied by glass bottles and cans of beer. A stench of vomit and urine lingered.
"I never said that."
"Right but you're thinking it. They all were. Right up until he vanished at the end of that three-day orgy. Told them he was coming back for sure. No way I was paying for all the hookers and beer. Never said when though, and now we're all waiting."
"Let's say that's all true. Don't you think it gets lonely for him though? Jumping around with no control. Living in fear of the next time he blinks and loses everything."
"Oh yeah boo hoo for the big baby. Dine and dash much? How about we spare a little sympathy for the one who has to clean up his mess every time. And let's not forget waiting for two thousand years and counting."
"Yeah well maybe if you just think about-"
"And how about you stop talking about what you don't even know," Judy shouted and threw the can in her hand. She staggered to her feet and started to walk away.
"Yeah but- Y'know what, sure. Alright. Good night Judy, thanks for the chat. God bless."
"Fuck you."
He sighed and turned the other way, muttering under his breath, "They were called 'disciples' Judy. Disciples."
| 2021-08-21T22:36:39 | 2021-08-21T21:06:41 | 240 | 54 |
[WP] You are a truly devious dragon. You’ve created the ultimate obstacle course of traps in your lair designed not to kill but to annoy. The final stretch to your hoard has a rune that teleports the intruders back to the entrance.
|
Cerrix cracked an eye open. Humans in his lair again. That was fine. None of them would make it to his hoard anyway. Let them run around his obstacle maze.
It was his greatest pride. Crafted over the centuries to be as annoying and frustrating as possible. Let them run around, jumping and ducking over things that would batter and bruise them, but nothing else. Let them waste hours, or even days, of their lives in pain and humiliation.
And, when the prize was within reach, when they could see his piles of gold and magic items, the real trap would be sprung and they would find themselves at the entrance again. It was the perfect trap. And, best of all, since no humans died, they never bothered sending an army against him. Or even a competent dragon slayer.
Occasionally, Cerrix would watch the humans run around like rats. He took particular joy in watching heavily armed knights be knocked over by a stuffed battering ram. It would take them almost an hour to get back on their feet.
How would these humans entertain them today? Would they get soaked to the skin? Or would they be pummeled mercilessly? Their cries of frustration and pain were music to Cerrix's ears.
A quick viewing spell showed him the humans. A few young males. Of course it was young males. Always so bold, they were. He watched in anticipation. Anticipation which quickly turned into confusion. One of them, a mage by the looks of it, cast his own viewing spell. Unlike Cerrix's masterpiece of magic though, this one was crude and only showed a view just behind on of the others.
The mighty dragon, allowed sound to come through his spell.
"Okay, ready? You got the timer set?" The one with the view spell cast on his said.
"Yeah, I got it." The mage said. Another spell cast and a series of illusory zeros appeared in the air. "Remember the rules, man."
Rules? A dragon's lair was no game. The fools would soon learn. The human stood at the ready, like he was ready to run at any moment.
"Ready? Go!" A third human called.
The timer spell began and the runner dashed into Cerrix's lair, and met the first obstacle. The human ducked around a series of swinging bludgeons. He then jumped over a shallow pit, and onto a steep wall.
As the man rumbled and twisted, Cerrix gained a grudging respect for this youth. He was swift and agile, with reactions that even a dragon could be proud of. And then it all came to an end when he misstepped and ran into a set of swinging bars.
Much to Cerrix's surprise, the other humans erupted into cheers, and the timer was stopped. The runner shook himself off then started heading to the end of the corridor, taking his time to properly avoid the remaining obstacles, until he was teleported to his companions at the start.
"Damn, almost made it that time." The runner said.
"Step aside and let me show you how it's done." Another human said with a huge smile on his face.
The process repeated, with the spells being transferred and reset. This human was apparently faster and better, and managed to avoid all of Cerrix's obstacles. This is where the despair would start. When he realized that all he had done was for...why were they cheering? Why did it seem like they were celebrating?
They were congratulating the new runner on his skills and speed. As the dragon watched the humans, he came to realize something. They were enjoying themselves. They actually had turned his lair's meticulously planted traps and obstacles into a game. And as he watched, he came to another realization. He was just as hooked as the humans.
He was enjoying watching them give their best effort to make it through the obstacle maze as fast as possible. The speed, the agility. Everything. He found himself lauding their successes and still respecting their failures.
When the humans had finally tired themselves out and started heading home, Cerrix was actually disappointed to see them leave. He found himself hoping they would come back.
And then an idea came to him. If they wanted to make his lair a game, then he would let them. He would aide them in this. Prizes, spectacle. Maybe even an audience to cheer them on to even greater feats of athleticism.
If his lair was going to be a game, then it was going to be the best game they had ever experienced.
|
Dormio the Undisturbed was very old, and slept a lot. Those two were not necessarily correlated attributes. Dormio would be very old, even if she was active through the past millennia. But the happy cause tying them both together was the rune that sat just outside her personal slumbering chambers, a stroke of genius that protected her hoard and her sleep, ensuring he was undisturbed in both mind and money.
As such, it was with great surprise one day when Dormio found her eyes drowsily flitting open against her will. She tried to squeeze her eyelids shut and resist, but there are always moments when sleep simply refuses to return, much like a tied-down mistress eloping with an enamoured man or woman of suspicious origins and dubious background. Hmm, perhaps her fantastic dreams were influencing her conscious mind more than she thought.
"Hello," was the call that Dormio heard. Finally, a great, exasperated sigh, one that encapsulated the collective cries of a city that found out its beloved mayor was dying, rang out across the cavern, and the dragon finally opened her eyes.
A tiny, energetic human stood there, waving and smiling. Dormio had half-hoped to see a wise old wizard, because she knew that they were at least tolerable companionship and often were wise enough to simply leave her the hell alone. Instead, she took in the dashing, full-of-himself warlock with fancy red robes and black, oily hair that was slicked back exceedingly like a too-taut rubber band who stood there, and groaned.
"Mortal," Dormio mournfully stated the obvious. Then, the less conspicuous subtext jolted her awake.
"Mortal," she cried, raising her head up.
"Dragon," the human proudly proclaimed. "Your rune was devious, indeed. I wondered how many times I walked past the same few piles of bones before I finally realized your trick."
Dormio yawned.
"Good job, then," she roared, rearing herself to her full length. "What do you want? My life? My gold? My hopes and dreams that you dashed when you dared disturb me?"
"Oh, I want something much better than that," the human said. "I am Howell Hall, and I want leverage over you, dear dragon."
Dormio tilted her head. She really wanted to go back to sleep, but she was already awake. Might as well spend some time to see how that went.
"Leverage? I am not familiar with that term."
"Dragon, I know your secret to your dungeon now," Howell smirked. "An inescapable rune that teleports you back to the beginning of the dungeon. The optical illusion is further enhanced by your meticulous tunneling skills--"
"Thank you."
"--and how uniform the decor seems to be. Actually, now that I'm retracing my steps while engaged in conversation with you, I'm pretty sure that at least three corpse piles were arranged meticulously to the bone."
Dormio raised her eyebrow. This human noticed. But then, perhaps to be expected of the first man that was able to disturb her in centuries. She yawned as she lowered her head, one large, green eye staring at Howell Hall.
"I don't see the point."
"Ah, that is a secret you wish to guard, no?"
"Very likely, yes. It wouldn't function as well if the secret was out. Like a cat out of the bag."
'People don't put cats in bags," Howell retorted, before coughing and uprighting himself. "Regardless, I found a way to escape your inescapable rune."
'Oh, do tell. I could improve it greatly."
Howell crossed his arms, a very obvious snigger being hidden by the large grin on his face.
"No. I figured it out by myself. I am the only person in the world with this knowledge. And that is leverage over y--"
Dormio opened her mouth once more. Instead of a yawn or sigh, what came out was much more immediate, and also tougher and hotter on the human skin. Howell Hall would never be to say his last sentence, just like he would never learn that taunting a large, powerful dragon was probably not the best course of action, and also that he would very likely bald prematurely with such a tight hairstyle.
"I don't need to know," Dormio yawned, this time for real. "As long as no one else in the world does. Ah, I really hate being disturbed."
And Dormio the Undisturbed proceeded to live up to her name for another good, long period.
---
r/dexdrafts
| 2021-09-01T16:38:38 | 2021-09-01T15:58:27 | 184 | 62 |
[WP] You were born with the ability of a Disney Princess. You can speak to animals and birds love it when you sing. As the most feared mafia boss in New York, it's tough, but you make it.
|
Anette was a princess. She had known that ever since she was a little girl. She had parents that were the modern equivalent of royalty, she had the voice of an angel, and a few other benefits. The fact that she had grown up to become one of the most beautiful women alive only helped cement her views on her own royal status. The only thing she did not have was the actual title of Princess. But that hardly mattered. She had a different title that was just as good.
One of her most loyal subjects scampered up her clothes and perched on her shoulder. The tiny brown mouse squeaked in her ear. One if the two large men looked at her nervously. He quickly averted his gaze when she looked back. The man was one of her best enforcers, although she prefers to call him one of her royal guardsmen.
"Get the door." She said.
"Yes, Mi Donna." The lumbering man said.
When the door was open, a small man entered. He walked with the gait of someone who was more dangerous than he looked. He also walked like someone meeting someone even more dangerous than himself. She called him a knight. Everyone else called him a hitman.
"Ah, Anthony. Good to see you." Annette said, turning away from the large window.
"Greetings, Mi Donna." The killer said with a slight bow of his head.
"I trust your job went well?"
"Very well, ma'am. Flawlessly, in fact."
"I would expect nothing less. Go and take a few days off. There's nobody who needs your special attention right now."
"Thank you, ma'am. Ah, before I go though, I have some unfortunate news."
"Do tell."
"The Russians are making a move. Nothing violent yet. But word is they're trying to take our cops away from us."
"They wouldn't dare." Annette said with ice in her voice.
"I'm just saying what I've heard, ma'am. I've got a few listeners in their group. They tell me the Russians think you're weak."
"Weak? They think I'm weak? Do you think I'm weak, Anthony?"
"No, ma'am." He hid his fear well, as any good knight should. Her guard did a much worse job.
"How about you, Michael. Do you think I'm weak?"
"N-no, Mi Donna, of course not."
"Then how did they get the idea that I am weak?"
Anthony hesitated before saying something. "Permission to say something that'll probably upset you ma'am?" She motioned for him to continue. "It's because you're a woman. Nobody in this family cares, mind you, but the Russians? They're old and have very outdated views. Including that women aren't fit to lead."
Annette clenched her fist. She felt a multitude of tiny black eyes on her, waiting for her order. She never gave it.
"You're dismissed Anthony. Be ready to move at any time though. Oh, and get Captain Carlisle here as quickly as possible."
The hitman left much quicker than he had entered. It took almost an hour for the police captain to arrive. To Annette, he was one of the leaders of the town guards in her kingdom. He did his job well enough, but clearly he was forgetting who his Princess was.
The small man sat, trembling like a leaf, in front of her. She hid her anger behind a slightly too polite smile.
"Hello captain." She said.
"H-h-hello, Ms. Barelli.
"How have you been? Your wife and son doing well?"
"Y-yes. Yes, they're both doing well."
"Good, good. Captain, remind me, how long has my family been helping yours?"
"F-fifteen years, Ms. Barelli."
"And how long have I, personally, been helping you?"
"F-five years."
"Yes. Since before last year's...incident that allowed me to be here now. So glad you remember. So, why is it, captain, that I'm hearing you taking offers from the Russians?"
"I-I-I" he wiped a bead of terror sweat off his forehead. "I had to at least listen, ma'am. Th-the offer was too good not to."
"Captain, do I need to hold a concert for you?"
The man's breath caught in his throat. Sweat dripped down his face and he looked out the large window. When he did, Annette pursed her lips and whistled. The note was a pure, crystalline sound with beauty that musical instruments had trouble matching. When it ended, birds fluttered, landing in a tree in her expansive garden. There were dozens of them in the tree, with dozens more perched nearby. And all of them were looking at the police captain.
"No!" He cried in fear. "No, please, not that. I...I won't take the offer, I swear! I'll stay with you!"
"And?" She asked.
"And?"
She opened her mouth and took a deep breath, ready to start singing.
"I-I-I-I'll crack down harder on the Russians. I'll send every cop I can after them!"
Annette smirked. Of course he would listen to her. It was only natural for a princess. She let out a long, warbling note and the birds dispersed.
"Good man." She said. "Now go and get to it."
"Y-yes, Ms. Barelli. Thank you, Ms. Barelli." The man nearly ran out the door.
When he was gone, she again summoned her followers. Birds perched in the trees, mice stood ready. Even several cats had shown up.
"Keep an eye on the man who just left. Inform me of everything he does."
With her command, the animals scattered to obey. She then turned to her desk phone and called her royal page--secretary to the rest of the world.
"Get me a meeting with one of the bosses if the Russian Mafia." She said.
"Which one, ma'am?" Her page asked.
"Doesn't matter. Any of them will do."
"Yes, ma'am."
Annette was a princess. She had always known that. Now her kingdom was under threat of invasion. And by no means was she going to let that happen.
|
The door opened and slammed shut, illuminating the hangar for an instant before plunging it back into darkness.
"Gentlemen, welcome," said Luciano who had come in, impeccably dressed in a black suit, a black tie and leather gloves.
"Now, as I'm sure you are aware, people keep disappearing in this city. Terrible happenings really, the coroners are overwhelmed with work. To rule drownings by concrete shoes as death by a natural cause is quite the headache, you know."
Luciano, classy as always, walked around the three hostages strapped to chairs. One very young disheveled man, barely an adult, and two run-down-the-mill would-be gangsters. Iron ropes hanged limply at the side of the chairs, waiting for the nearby crane to put them into motion.
"Now this old hangar is built over the Water of Leigh, and was used to carry small payloads through the river. It has fallen into disrepair, but I, as an appreciator of history, do find use for it sometimes. Now, back to the matter at hand. Lately, some of my people have started to disappear.
"Risks of the job, which is understandable. What isn't are the circumstances in which the bodies were found. Naked, in a cold bathtub, with the scar of a recent operation on the neck and a third kidney inside the body, alongside hundred other corpses in a similar condition.
"Now, you three people have been spotted near the place, you didn't call the police, didn't mind the bodies, didn't seem afraid either, as if it was business as usual. So my question is a fairly straightforward one. Who does this, and why?"
No answer. Luciano kept slowly walking in circles, the noise of his steps echoed through the old complex, accompanied by the drops of stale water.
He nodded to Freddy, his shadow man. Himself pointed a finger at the crane operator. The machine buzzed to life, and the ropes started to straighten as the chairs were slowly lifted up.
"The river of Edinburgh isn't exactly teeming with wildlife, what with global warming and all these inconveniences like pollution and rotting bodies at the bottom. Luckily, I have friends near that are always happy to give me a hand. Normally, lobsters don't live in rivers, they need salt water and prefer the coast."
The three hostages looked at him in disbelief as they were slowly lifted over the water current.
"You will understand what I mean very soon."
The chairs were lowered, getting closer and closer to the river's surface.
In a flawless soprano voice, Luciano started to sing:
"I can show you the world.
Shining, shimmering, splendid..."
The water suddenly boiled and teemed with life, pincers and tiny vicious mouths were eager to give Luciano the needed help. The men were contorting in the chairs to retard the contact, to no avail.
"...Tell me princess, now when did
You last let your heart decide?"
The youngest of the bunch touched the water with a toe. He screamed as the claw shredded through the nail and planted itself into the bone.
The crane operator lifted an eyebrow at Freddy, who gave a thumbs up. The chairs kept sinking and the screams increasing in strength. Freddy pushed a tiny trolley forward. He grabbed a bottle of fine whiskey, poured a sliver into a fine glass and handed it over to Luciano with deference.
The cries for help had stopped.
The three hostages being underwater might have been the reason for that.
Freddy lit a cigar while his boss smelled the whiskey like a connoisseur. His delicate senses accepted the drink and he took a sip. He left the glass on the trolley and brought the cigar to his lips.
"That's a start," said Freddy.
The hostages were brought up, skin cut open and blood-filled clothes torn apart.
A lobster, still hanging from a mangled ear, fell sideways on the hard floor.
"DEAR LORD, NO!"
Freddy lunged, jumping to the ground at high speed to catch the lobster in a slide and throw it back into the water.
Luciano was too good a man to not be in great pain when an animal suffered. He wiped his brow with a white handkerchief while getting his breath back. Freddy slowly got up, dirty, stinking, in pain, and with the face of a man who had done this so often he could not bring himself to care anymore.
"Now, gentlemen," said the old man as he calmed down, "did it refresh your memory?"
What happened next greatly disturbed the experienced mafia boss.
They all smiled. Not out of provocation, not as a way to hide fear. But a genuine, earnest and happy smile.
"One day, you too shall see the truth," said the young one in a friendly tone, "you will understand what I mean very soon."
Luciano sighed and lifted a finger until the three had he water coming up to their wastes. He dropped his finger and stood right above them, making sure they could see him while they died.
And he sung.
Let it go from the Frozen movies always made them go haywire.
Lobsters and small fish entered a rampage, the water was tainted red as they pierced the skin and attacked muscles, bones and organs. A smell of violence and death overcame the smell of mold and old in the hangar, and the screams, which had started strong, lessened.
Suddenly, the youngest man stopped vocalizing his suffering and adopted a calm, featureless face. Luciano first thought he was hallucinating. The man's nose got smaller, his hair longer, and the very bones of his skull were twisting and reforming into somebody else.
Where he had been, a fairly old woman was looking straight back at the mafia boss instead.
She smiled.
And died.
When the crane brought the bodies up, Luciano and his employees realized all hostages had undergone a similar transformation. A different and blank face, and their lower half had almost disappeared, as if dissolved, the fabric had simply stopped holding together and become a fluid, mixing with the river.
It appeared Luciano wasn't the only one with powers straight out of a fairy-tale.
He took a deep breath, checked his watch.
He hadn't done a good old turf war in quite some time.
And there was only place for one fairy-tale in Edinburgh.
| 2021-09-10T09:57:34 | 2021-09-10T09:38:00 | 1,103 | 100 |
[WP] It started as a spur of the moment trip with your friends. Despite your best efforts you are the only one left alive and the slasher is closing in on your position. While you lament the loss of your friends now that you are alone... Now you can show the slasher what a REAL monster looks like.
|
The cloaked killer stalked the forest floor, watching the cabin intently. The trails in the ground where the bodies had been dragged led him right to the front door. The last survivor, with nothing but the corpses of his friends to protect him. Soon. Soon, everyone back at school would know how badly they had fucked up, with their jabbing mockery and snide condescension. Every whore and Chad would be falling to their knees to beg forgiveness as the Uprising began.
The trails stopped at the door. No signs of moving across the foyer. The killer tried the handle. Locked, of course. As he jiggled the handle, lights and music burst forth from the cabin.
It had gone from a still tomb to a roaring festival. Silhouettes of people moved around, music played loudly, the lights shone so brightly they blinded the killer for a moment as he readjusted his vision. They were dead, all of them! He had slit their throats himself! So how were they suddenly throwing a party?!
Peeking into the windows, he saw the partygoers clearly. Cardboard. Cardboard cutouts, tied to... trains on the ground? What was this?!
The Killer went to the door, shook the hadle violently, and rammed the door open. As he crossed the foyer, he felt himself hit some wires on the floor. A bucket of water fell onto him. And tipped over from their spot on the doorjam, a car battery.
The car battery fell into the pool of water, and the killer took a nasty shock. The spasms of electrocution forced him out of the water, and he lay gasping on the floor, listening to the jaunty music and watching the cardboard cutouts 'dance'. The killer stood to his feet, and before he could catch it he hit another tripwire.
THUNK! THUNK! Inches from the killer's face, two nails shot into the wall beside him, narrowly avoiding impaling him in the head. He looked arond wildly, fear in his gaze as he heard laughter ring out.
"Do you give up? Or are you thirsty for more?"
He followed the voice, to the upper level. The last survivor of the preppy assholes who had rented this cabin. He charged up the stairs, only to be blinded and thrown backwards as a heavy object collided directly with his face.
The killer screamed in pain, and through his blackening vision he saw a full paint bucket dangling from a rope in the ceiling, his blood spattered across it. A figure walked calmly down the stairs, stopping to loom over him. The killer scrambled to recover, only to feel the nailgun penetrate his feet and pin the to the floor.
As the killer screamed, Kevin, the ultimate survivor, leaned in close and smiled cheerfully. He held the nailgun to the killer's forehead. "Keep the change, you filthy animal."
|
The slasher squinted through the hog's head mask he wore, bloody knife gripped beneath slippery fingers. At the end of the long, shadowy hallway in front of him lay a slumped, pale-faced man with short blond hair. This was not what the slasher was looking at though-- the man's beautiful crimson blood had already coated the his hands when his knife had sliced through the man's neck. No, the slasher was watching the woman stood above her fallen friend, staring down at him with an unblinking gaze.
This was not the slasher's first time on the job, and he had seen many victims sob and scream over their fallen loved ones, but he had never seen the expression on that woman's face. It was a blank expression of utter emptiness-- not the emotionlessness of shock, but a profoundly unnerving expression of complete vacancy.
The slasher liked the thrill of the chase, and such an easy final target would sour the whole expedition. So he scraped his knife against the wall as he approached, dragged his feet to give the woman plenty of time to flee.
The woman did not flee. At the first noise the slasher made, her head snapped over to look at him with the same unblinking expression as before. As he drew closer, she began to speak in a soft voice.
"Adapt. They always told me to adapt to whatever the this world needed from me. Jason. Charlotte. Franklin. They drank coffee in the morning and rode the subway and worked at a quiet desk job and watched the sun set and lived quietly and they were happy. They were successful."
The slasher paused as he heard a quiet series of clicks and pops, and after a moment of confusion determined that they were coming from the woman, who remained utterly still.
"They failed in the end though. They weren't what the world needed. They lost to you."
The slasher watched in horror as the woman finally turned to face him, and as she did, the the joints of her knees popped and the flesh of her legs rippled as they grew much, much longer. Muscles twined themselves over her torso, making her grow wider as she began to tower over the awestruck slasher. Her blank expression started to morph, twisting into a tiny smile
"Thank you. You showed me who really wins on this planet, who really survives in this world. Now, I can win as well, just like you."
At the base of her forearm, a shard of bone poked its way through the skin, sending a trickle of blood dripping to the floor. The end of it flowered and twisted its way into the shape of a serrated edge, while the base remained a smooth, straight length of ivory. The woman grabbed this base and twisted, snapping the sharp length of bone off with a crack that echoed across the room. She twirled it across her fingers before pointing its bloodstained edge at the slasher, who stood in a stunned stupor. She grinned, eyes glinting with a childish eagerness.
"Let's get started."
| 2021-10-07T13:55:06 | 2021-10-07T13:04:12 | 36 | 25 |
[WP] You're working your normal shift at a daycare, when suddenly a rift opens. cthulu steps out, holding a small mass of tentacles. "Care for him today, and I shall grant you knowledge that predates the oldest stars."
|
"Sir, we do not accept barter. Please pay us with legal tender and we will look after your child, no problem."
**THIS IS NOT OUR CHILD. IT WAS BORN OF THE NAMELESS MISTS AND IS FATED TO BECOME THE TRUE KEY AND GUARDIAN OF THE ETERNAL GATE.**
"...I see. Are you saying that you don't have legal guardianship over this child?"
**WE ARE THE OLD ONES. WE WERE HERE BEFORE THE BEGINNING AND WILL BE HERE AFTER THE END. EVERYTHING IS OUR DOMAIN.**
"That clears everything up, then. But like I said before, we here at Sunnyside Kinder Care do not accept barter as a form of payment. Do you have anything, ah, a little more substantial?"
**I HAVE DREAMED FOR TEN THOUSAND MILLENNIA. I AM TO DREAM FOR A THOUSAND MORE, AND YET, FOR THIS SPAWN OF THE BOTTOMLESS VOID, I HAVE ROUSED MYSELF FROM MY SLUMBER. YOU WILL BE REWARDED HANDSOMELY.**
"I'm afraid our rates are posted right here on the wall, sir. Forty dollars an hour. I'm sorry you came all this way just to find that out, but you could've also checked our website before coming."
**FORTY DOLLARS AN HOUR. THAT IS HIGHWAY ROBBERY.**
"Look, I don't appreciate that insinuation, not one bit. I have a master's degree in children's education. All of us here have gotten our Level 3 NVQ certs, and we're all extremely qualified. If you're looking for a cheaper daycare, might I suggest 'Tots and Toys' down the road?"
**I AM ALL-KNOWING AND ALL-SEEING. OF COURSE I KNOW ABOUT TOTS AND TOYS. IT IS UNSATISFACTORY.**
"I see, well, if you do not want our business, I will have to ask you to kindly leave. Your presence is beginning to disturb some of the children - "
**I WILL GIVE YOU YOUR FORTY DOLLARS AN HOUR, MORTAL. BUT WHEN YOU LIE AWAKE IN BED TONIGHT, DREAMING OF SHAPELESS HORRORS, REMEMBER THAT YOU COULD HAVE HAD THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE STARS.**
\---
credit to /u/Ketheres for the great opening line!
/r/theBasiliskWrites
|
Today had been a bit stressful getting to work. A thunderstorm had blown in last night, making driving to work a pain as the wind and rain battered my windshield. I still had difficulty seeing the road even though I had my windshield wipers at top speed. I still had to come to work though, I was the branch manager after all. After parking my car, I opened up the daycare to take care of all the young children that parents drop off. After all, work doesn’t stop just because of a little storm.
After Jessica and Bryan arrived, the children started rolling in. Some of the little ones were scared because of all the thunder that shook the windows, so we put on some Disney movie to keep them occupied. All in all, I’d say that the day was going fairly well given the circumstances- that is, until they came.
I had just finished feeding one of the babies some applesauce and I’d set him down as I cleaned up the mess he had made. But as I stepped out of the kitchen, a rift opened in front of me. It was blacker than any black I’d ever seen. If I had to describe the color to the best of my ability, I’d have to say it was the color of void. The sound that emanated from the inky rift grated my ears and it almost felt like it was touching my brain.
Then they came through. Upon seeing them, I somehow know that they were Cthulu. From the tales I had heard, I don’t know how I didn’t go mad at the sight, but I didn’t. Cthulu approached me. They were the size of a normal man, probably to not destroy the building, and holding a small bundle. I just stood there standing and staring as they approached me. Suddenly thrust into my arms was a small mass of tentacles.
Then with a voice that rattled my very being, **“Care for him today, and I shall grant you knowledge that predates the oldest stars.”** Then Cthulu turned and started back for the rift. As he left, I felt like I was myself again. “But- wait sir/madam, you-” They had already gone thought the rift. “-have to pay…” I knew corporate wasn’t going to like this. They do not accept payment in knowledge.
I looked down at the tentacle mass. “What am I going to do with you?”
\---
Thanks for reading, I don’t normally do any writing, but I hope you enjoy it!
Edit: fixing grammar
| 2022-04-18T12:55:35 | 2022-04-18T12:48:06 | 712 | 62 |
[WP] You're working your normal shift at a daycare, when suddenly a rift opens. cthulu steps out, holding a small mass of tentacles. "Care for him today, and I shall grant you knowledge that predates the oldest stars."
|
"Aw!" Melanie cried, bending over the child. "Look at *you,* sweetheart!"
The toddler resembled the creature looming over her, a tall, thick-limbed humanoid with a cephalopod head and small, membranous wings on its back, but had the proportions of a baby, small and chubby with a relatively large head and eyes.
Melanie gently poked the child's pudgy belly, and it let out a shrieking giggle, waving its chubby arms and flapping tiny wings.
"Oh my god, I *love* him!" Melanie practically shouted, scooping the alien baby up in her arms and hugging him close.
*AS DO I.* The larger being said, its voice reverberating inside Melanie's skull.
"Okay, well, let's get your little fella all checked in, here. You're...Cthulhu?" Melanie asked, stepping behind the counter, and operating the Little Angels Day Care reception computer with one arm while playfully bouncing the child in the other.
*NO. I AM KTHANID. YOU CANNOT COMPREHEND MY TRUE FORM, NOR THAT OF MY OFFSPRING, SO YOUR MIND SUBSTITUTES EARTHLY ARCHETYPES WITH WHICH YOU ARE FAMILIAR. BATS, CEPHALOPODS, AND YOUR OWN HUMAN FORM, TYPICALLY. UNFORTUNATELY, YOUR KIND HAS COME TO ASSOCIATE THESE SYMBOLIC REPRESENTATIONS WITH THE NAME OF MY BROTHER, CTHULHU DUE TO HIS REPEATED INTERFERENCE WITH YOUR WORLD, AND HENCE I AM FREQUENTLY MISTAKEN FOR HIM.*
"Oh! So that's why...?" Melanie said, pointing to her head, questioningly.
*WHY YOUR BRAIN HAS NOT BEEN METAPHORICALLY LIQUIFIED, MERELY BY WITNESSING MY COUNTENANCE, YES. THAT'S THOOLIE'S DEAL. HE'S KIND OF A DICK, THAT WAY*
Melanie laughed. "Aw, well, I could tell ya'll some stories about *my* siblings, too, sugar! What's the little guy's name?"
*HE IS THE FIRSTBORN STAR-SPAWN OF KTHANID, THE FRACTAL SEED OF PURITY, WHO SHALL ONE DAY GERMINATE INTO THE TESSERACT HYPER-TREE OF FUNDAMENTAL KNOWLEDGE. WHEN THE STARS ARE RIGHT, HIS WRITHING BRANCHES SHALL GROW INTO ALL DIMENSIONS, TO STRANGLE THE MALEVOLENT OUTER GODS THEMSELVES.*
"Okay, so, do we call him *Star, or...?"* Melanie asked, hesitantly.
*YEAH, WE JUST CALL HIM STAR, AROUND THE HOUSE.*
"Alright, gotcha." she said, cheerfully. She paused to give Star a kiss on his chubby cheek, eliciting another giggle.
*HE LIKES YOU.*
"Aw! Well, I sure like *him*, too, bless his little...fractal tesseract heart, or however it goes." Melanie said, beaming at Star as she held and bounced him. "Now, what payment method were ya'll wanting to use?"
*CARE FOR MY OFFSPRING TODAY, AND I SHALL GRANT YOU KNOWLEDGE THAT PREDATES THE OLDEST STARS.*
Melanie frowned at the computer screen, clicking the mouse a few times. "Well...gosh, you know, the computer's not giving me a field where I can type that in..."
*I SEE. THEN, PERHAPS AN ALTERNATE FORM OF RECOMPENSE WOULD INTEREST YOU...*
Melanie jumped, as the being called Kthanid abruptly thrust his arm into his own torso, with a disturbing squelching sound. He withdrew a glistening, ichor-soaked object, which he set down gingerly on the countertop.\`
*I HAVE DISCOVER CARD.*
|
(Edit: changed the ending a tiny bit)
Calm music played on the radio and filled the silence in those early hours when the kids are yet to arrive at the daycare. I could say I was doing nothing and doodling in my notebook at the time the shit-show started, but then I would be have to get scolded by my boss. As you expect, I would rather not experience that again.
Then, what am I going to tell the parents, dropping here their kids, about the bundle of pure happiness floating above me? I can imagine them running away at the first sight of him, even though I am so gonna shout after them that "he's just a tiny angel!"
I think I'm enjoying this thought a little bit too much...
Okay, so I was (not) doing nothing at the time the shit-show took place. There was a white flash right in the front door of the daycare and I was forced to shield my eyes. Moment later the light disappeared leaving a tall individual with a beard of tentacles. He had two glowing red eyes on that squid head of his, green muscular body and wings, to which time was not kind to. He didn't need to introduce himself to me, even though I knew very little about Lovecraft's works. Apparently Cthulu himself thought the same, because he in fact made no move to introduce himself. Instead he went straight to the point of why he was there.
"I would like to leave my son here for the day. Wife's idea. Uh... yeah."
Did the guy himself just got embarassed by stoping by? Yep, he totally did. Who knew ancient beings would seem so similar to people? Probably not me, because that was the first encounter of mine with the supernatural and so far, so good. This encounter wasn't turning into a bloodsheet yet, I hope it stays that way. I kinda doubted that anyway, Cthulu seemed like a polite guy so far.
The ancient being opened a second, way smaller portal and put one arm inside of it. Whatever was on the other side was fighting a bit, which made Cthulu curse in a language I've never heard. Yep, I totally scribbed the word down next to a doodle of a poodle. Hopefully I got the right spelling.
"Hermeus Mora! Come here or I won't buy you more books this month!"
WHAT THE- that was wrong universe, right? No, I've definitely heard that right. A little blob of black shadows, swirling tentacles and eyes - so many black eyes - appeared in Cthulu's hand, now out of the portal.
Hermeus Mora of The Elder Scrolls looked like something out of a type of fanfiction that uses de-aged characters.
There's no way I'm gonna babysit a freaking Daedric Prince - I thought to myself. Yet, here he was, real and swirly. A baby demon of knowledge that apparently was the son of the guy himself. Speaking of whom... pleased with the appearance of his child, Cthulu said his goodbyes and returned to whatever place he was heading to.
Many eyes blinked at me out of synch and I would lie to you, If I said it was not a creepy sight. The gaze was piercing, like the Daedric baby looked straight through my soul and let's be honest - that was probably it.
"GOt anYY bOOkS?"
I was sure Mora did his supernatural special effect voice on purpose, when he asked me in a tone that reminded me of my youngest cousin that wanted to play some games on my phone.
I probably shouldn't have point him to the encyclopedia, but I did it anyway and now I have a Daedric baby demon floating in the corner near the ceiling, who's claimed the book as his own property, is rereading it the sixth time now and the whole arriving daycare called an exorcist on me, after running away like they saw the devil himself. I shouted after them that he's more like a biblical accurate angel, If you go by looks, but they apparently were too busy running away.
Oh well.
| 2022-04-18T15:42:54 | 2022-04-18T15:25:30 | 392 | 18 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain...
|
The car had appeared, and my hands started shaking.
My enemies, however, began laughing.
“Hahaha look at that! A conjuring power! He’s afraid of cars, of all things.” Said the meathead on the left I’d been thinking of as Beefy Boy.
“Aww, did someone’s parents get run down by a small car? My Grandma probably did it - seems like a car she’d drive, except for the ridiculous paint job.” Said the shadowed long-limbed man on the right. I thought of him as Slenderman, and together with Beefy Boy they’d blocked me into the alley.
“We’re just going to climb over it, ya know.”
“Resisting only makes us angrier, small fry.”
*Ho-honk!* The sound came from the car, tinny and terrifying. The perfectly opaque windscreen looked at me with evil delight. I quivered, but forced myself to stare back. Perhaps one day it would be easier.
*Hon-hon-hon-HONK-HONK!*
“What a hilarious horn for a car,” said Slenderman. “You really are pathetic if this is your greatest fear.”
The doors slammed into the brick walls, gaps so narrow that no human could squeeze through. But it was enough for *them*.
Streams of garish colours were vomited out of those gaps, lanky red-nosed figures contorting and slithering onto the roof, the bonnet, the ground.
The honks became a chorus.
As Beefy Boy and Slenderman were tackled to the ground, one of the mute pale figures walked over to me. Its eyes were wide, its smile utterly insane.
This time, I maintained eye contact.
An inch away from my nose, he gripped his.
*Ho-HONK!*
|
As I awake I see it. I close my eyes and open them again. It's still there. When you suffer from plutophobia, the last thing you want to see is a giant pile of cash. Somehow I work up the nerve to grab as much as I can and toss it from my 9th story window. When I return to the pile, my heart sinks. The money has replenished. I have to get out of here.
I sprint from the building to my car. Before I even open the door, I see it. Another huge pile of one hundred dollar bills is waiting for me in the back seat. I frantically look around not knowing what to do. So I run. I had no idea where to go but eventually decide to head for the hospital. This is a psychotic episode, surely. None of this can be real. I must have freaked out one of the nurses because suddenly two orderlies drag me into a room and tie me to a bed. I black out.
As I come too, I see the orderlies stuffing trash bags with money. They say nothing and leave. A police officer arrives and asks about the pile. I beg for somebody to remove it but in my stupor I black out again. When I come too I see two men in trench coats speaking softly. One of them notices I'm awake and injects me with an unknown substance. I quickly pass out again.
I feel myself waking once more but I've been taken somewhere. I rub my eyes and notice it's a cell. I'm chained to the wall. "He's awake" I hear from beyond the door. A tray of food slides across the floor and they tell me to eat. I scream for answers but I receive no reply. Some time later a man comes in to retrieve the money. Time passes. Another tray of food followed by the man retrieving the money. This repeats for months or maybe years, I don't even know. I have stopped eating.
| 2022-05-14T15:36:21 | 2022-05-14T14:21:15 | 556 | 135 |
[WP] Your daughter was foretold to become a mighty hero but you want her to take over the family bakery. So far, you have kept 2 magical swords and a sketchy looking ring from her but today your plan was foiled by the most innocent object imaginable.
|
So my daughter is apparently some reincarnation of a mythical hero. Another one. I'm not mad or anything. Just, did it have to be my kid?
Locals keep coming to me talking nonsense. "She is fated to slay or prevent the yadda-yadda yadda, blah, blah, blah".
There's like six different prophecies at this point. Of course I don't believe it. She really has to fight the undead, alien overlords, dragons and the devil? Really? Really??? You believe that too?
If anything, that isn't fair to her. Or anybody else for that matter. That's not cool.
Whole world's in danger. All this heat the militaries of all these countries around the entire thing claim they got. Billionaires going to space every other week. And *nobody has shit for any of this*. But my kid's gotta do it?
Wow.
At least our bakery has been doing good. Kinda hoped it would, it's what her mom would've wanted. But, as you could guess, if our kid goes on an adventure to her death that kind of tends to put a damper on the whole small business venture.
I don't care about the money exactly. But it's peaceful, it's good for her, and she can work on education and all that. Live a normal life. She's the best at baking cakes out of the two of us, and she loves it.
So I hid the swords. The one delivered by a bird. The other one delivered by a sorcerer. If you're wondering about the second one; yes I found out the hard way.
And then there was the ring. That evil, evil ring. Looked normal. Until you put it on. Horrible. Horrible little thing. It's at the bottom of the bay. I hope no one ever finds it.
I've been trying to keep those things away from her. But, well, I may have done it myself.
Our guard dog of course has been very anxious as of late. And I asked her to help chain up our fence. Bought them at a hardware store. Nothing incredible.
Well, for one thing, chains shouldn't glow. Chains and padlocks shouldn't turn into things like maces, a kyoketsu, or a meteor hammer.
Yeah.
Oh well, I tried. So now I'm running the bakery. Alone. At least the occasional monster draws more business. That's her job.
What can you do.
---
An attempt was made.
Sub is being worked on. But whatever. Promo per usual. r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
I couldn't fucking believe.
Don't get me wrong, I have made my best efforts and kept even some piece of nice jewelry away from my girl. I've read too many books and I know heroes are expected to suffer unimaginable pain. I am not about to have that.
When I found the magical sword that glows, I put that away and tossed it at the bottom of the lake. In hindsight, that wasn't a great idea, but it worked at first. The second sword I simply melted down and sold for scrap. It was genuinely surprising to be able to melt a magical sword. The ring I got I pawned off and got her a new one, much nicer and less cursed.
Today we went to the beach, and as I mentioned before... I couldn't fucking believe. As we walked through the sand, and she gently took a walk by the sea, getting her feet wet... She stepped on a conchshell. It's the beach, how was I supposed to know that there could be magical shells!¡?
Well, now you can all imagine what happened... the fucking conchshell spoke to her.
"Oh mighty heroine, heed your call from Atlantis. Save the kingdom! The mighty Sharkin Empire has ruled for far too long, and the evil Wizard Finmaww has killed the queen and princess! Only the power of the Earthen Might can save the Waterworld, come hither, Hero of Terra!
I heard the whole thing, but as I yelled for her to drop the shell into the sea, it left a mark on her palm, which was covered in stone and metal.
"Young lady, if you think you're going out after this then you are VERY mistaken,"
"I'm a hero dad! I have to save the Atlantians!"
"Oh so now the hero thinks she can talk loud to her dad, huh? I raised you all by myself and yet you'd leave me not only alone, but to save some fishes."
"I have a destiny to fulfill!"
"Well waht about college? All the loans i?m paying mean nothing?"
"College isn't as iimportant as saving all those people!"
"Seriously? You're trying to be a nurse, thar helps people every single day at work!"
"Whatever, I don't care."
​
It hurt me so much when she left. It didn't matter how much I worried about her, she just went right back to her teen angst and rebellious tendencies... I tend to stay inside the house now, waiting for some shark or an octopus to come attack me. I know how parents fare in heroic stories, and I'll be damned if some fish kill me.
| 2022-05-18T09:18:18 | 2022-05-18T07:48:37 | 111 | 30 |
[WP] Cupid has a lesser known brother, Corvus, who uses ravens to form platonic friendships. You've just seen a raven nosedive into a trashcan.
|
"Corvus? Corvus you big hunk of bird! What have you gotten into " across the room a bird-like man coughed up a bit of a feather and laid a metallic button on the floor from within his beak before replying.
"**Scraw!** I mean...I was working. I have two in my sights. Watch." Below the crow like man and the Cherub God of Love emanated a circular ring of sight into another world. Within the swirling frame was the image of people walking down the crowded city street, then closer it zoomed into a building window, into an apartment. Finally the frame focused on a man with his back turned, doing dishes.
"Are you watching? It's important you watch- **Scraw!**"
The cherub faced god rubbed his temples with a tiny hand, "Yes. I am watching Corvus." At the go Corvus reached his hand up through a cloud into the sky and snapped. With this command a raven drifted down into his feathery palm and nestled itself in position. Then, with a mighty pull back, Corvus launched the bird down through the circular frame of the portal. It flew down with an ever fading **Sqwaaa-aaak** before gliding into the apartment window and beak-diving into a trashcan.
Corvus watched on with an expectant grin on his face as the bird essentially exploded into a cloud of feathers.
"What the hell?!" the man previously washing dishes jumped around at the sound of a bird flying into his trashcan going 60 miles an hour. "Was that?...was that a bird?" He walked over and peered in the trash as both Cupid and Corvus watched on from far above. With a hesitant hand he began reaching into the can. **Sqwaa!**, the bird yelled. **Ah!**, the man replied.
"What is that noise?" From a back hallway a girl emerged to see the commotion, her brown hair half curled and shirt on backwards.
"I think a big ass bird is in here.." **Sqwaa!**, the big ass bird agreed. By now Cupid was staring in horror at the mess that his brother had made down within the mortal realm. Corvus meanwhile stared on with a continued grin.
"Oh...well lets take it out then I guess! In the trashcan of course." At this the mans eyes perked up, not at her suggestion, but at the prospect of having company. So they walked and talked, talked of life, of what they had become, and of the bird in the trash which frequently sqwauked to keep its end if the conversation up. With every movement they made Corvus's happiness only grew. He excitedly ruffled his feathered arms and shook his beak, and on the other side of the frame Cupid began to see the point of it all.
He remembered both of the humans well as just last year they were within his jurisdiction. He shot the arrow that grew them together. Then watched on as its power crumbled until there was nothing left. But now something new sprouted like the buds of spring. Not love, at least not the kind Cupid dealt in, but relationship nonetheless.
Both Corvus and Cupid watched on as the humans below released the bird as it flew off back into the sky.
"So, friends?" The girl brushed a curl from her face.
"Friends" he replied with a smile.
|
It was a regular summer Friday afternoon. During summer, I get half days at work and tend to enjoy the peaceful quiet times to myself by getting myself an ice-cream and going for a walk in Central Park. It gets lonely on this not-very-large but hugely dense island. Ironic really, considering how many people are practically sharing the same square inch as yourself.
I moved to New York like all the clichés; "To make it big". Big never came along, but what did was a receptionist position at a small architecture firm, consisting of mostly old men with dimmed concepts of what it means to have "fresh and exciting" spaces to build.
I was walking in Central Park as I have been these past 3 Fridays. It's nice to have a few feet to myself and be able to just sit and watch people and the birds who have definitely consumed too many cigarette butts. And to consume some "fresh" air by comparison.
# SWOOOOOOOOSH!!!
# CLANK!!!!
"AH!" I shouted. "What the hell was that?!" As I pick up my dropped ice-cream and start looking around while wiping the spilled bits off my jeans.
Nothing. I don't see a thing. How strange, I know I heard it... but no one else here seems to have noticed. But then again, would anyone in New York even notice anything unless it was happening to them?, I think cynically.
While thinkin about what had happened, I go to toss away the poor remains of my once beautiful ice-cream and I hear a rustle in trash can. "Ah!" must be a rat as I back away quickly!
# " KaaAA !"
"Woah! A crow!"
# "KaaAA!!!"
"Nope! To big... a a raven? Hmm, never seen one up close. Dang it's huge" I say to myself as I back up from it. "I'm sorry buddy, really didn't know you were in there" I say apologetically with my hands up and trying to look small so it doesn't come for me.
It hops out of the trash can and onto the bench I was just on. My first instinct was to run away, but as I looked closer...hang on. It looks injured.
"You okay buddy?" I ask looking at it's left wing that had it's feathers all ruffled and a bit of skin with some blood being exposed.
"Kaaa..." it said softly, seemingly understanding what I had just asked it. "Does it hurt?" I asked, now definitely concerned about this poor animal. This must've been the reason for that noise earlier.
"Kaa" it said again. "Wait, can you understand me?" I asked. It gave a subtle nod. I looked around making sure I'm not loosing my mind. Everyone else seemed pretty damn normal. No one was even acknowledging this giant ass bird just on a bench talking to a human. In fact no one even glanced my direction. I tried to try and make eye-contact with people so I could ask for someone's help to get this raven some medical attention. Nope. No one. Maybe 20 people just walked straight by me.
"It looks hurt", I heard someone say from next to me. I whip around cracking my neck, "ow! Yes it is! I'm so glad someone else noticed!" I say to the stranger as I rub the back of my neck. He was a short, mid-aged, stout man with a receding hairline and bushy eyebrows.
"It must've been the dive it took into the trash can", he said matter-of-factly.
| 2022-07-20T20:33:25 | 2022-07-20T18:13:33 | 95 | 56 |
[WP] You are a student with the least amount of magic potential ever recorded at the Academy and it's the day of the familiar summoning test. A misplaced rune or word results in an arch demon/ess becoming bound as your familiar.
|
The summoning test is nothing new to me. It’s the same thing every time. I step up inside the stone circle when it’s my turn. Lions have been summoned by some of the stronger students. Small dragons by others, but for me it was always nothing. Nothing ever happened when I did it. Truth be told I almost skipped school to save myself the embarrassment. You’d think it gets easier over time. It doesn’t.
I watch as one of the older students I’ve seen before in the hallway steps into the arena to contain whatever beast or creature he summons. A small rumble shakes the ground slightly and makes a few girls laugh nearby. Out of the ground crawls the biggest earth worm I have ever seen. The boy and his worm and quickly escorted away, and Saria enters the arena.
Saria is one of the stronger students, able to summon a small dragon. She always made sure she was able to shove it into my face that I had barely any magic. She opens her golden book and inhales deeply before smiling almost as wide as her eyes had grown, and a huge lightning bolt strikes the ground. Students from all around scream with delight or fear. They ADORE her. I know why. Magic is status. The more the better.
She bumps my shoulder as I walk past her into the arena.
“Try for a caterpillar this time?” she snickers and her friends follow suit.
I ignore her.
I always do.
My spell book is clear because I haven’t had enough magic to color it with. I was originally going to try to summon a caterpillar, but after Saria’s comment that will not be happening. I desperately flip through the pages for something impressive but less expensive while still knowing what I’m doing.
“Get them out of here!” Some jerk yells in the stands. I grit my teeth and stop flipping. Tears of embarrassment sting my eyes. In that moment, I pray to whatever god is out there to give me something good. I don’t even look at what it is when I start reciting the runes.
The tears blurr my vision because i’m looking down at my book, and I mess up the last one. My stomach drops. Every magic weirder knows messing up a rune is a fatal mistake. I look at the top of the page. This is supposed to summon a large butterfly.
Everything is okay, right?
A huge crack in the earth breaks right where I am standing. I yelp, jumping back and falling onto my behind. I feel heat pour out of the earth onto my body. Screams from students and pounds from their feet running away tell me that I definitely messed up. I look over and lock eyes with Saria who looks like she’s about to pass out.
I look back at the crack and realize that the sky has gone almost completely dark. Storm clouds crackle above us. Then, out of the crack a huge Demon, 8’5 with multiple runes, the runes I had casted, all over his torso and limbs. He is huge, and wears crown of stygian iron that matches his armor. He radiates a deadly aura. He looks around once, twice, before his eyes finally rest on me.
“This is going to be interesting.” His voice is low and he seems almost bored as he says this. Maybe even angry.
“What?” I cough, the smoke from the crack irritating my lungs.
“I am now your familiar, youngling.”
|
Man, I didn't even want to become a magician. I wanted to be a bard. What did it matter if I was a powerful noble's son? I was the youngest of twelve kids and gods know how many illegitimate bastards. To say dad was a horny bastard would not be an understatement. He even boinked my eldest brother's wife while he was off at *Crusader Fest 1099* last year.
Anyway, I'm getting off the topic!
So I wanted to be a bard but my old man said the lute was for 'whores and vagrants' and no son of his would ever be a bard. So what did he do when he found out I snuck out one night to the tavern to rock out with my friends? The old bastard sent me to *Gary Snot-Purse's Magician Academy for Sorcery and Dark Magic.* I didn't even think I had any magical powers but the old bastard greased some palms so that my meager (yet still surprisingly there) magical talent got me into the school.
It's been a few years now and I have to admit I'm surprisingly good with runes and alchemy but absolutely crap with rituals and the more flashy practical magic. Still, I needed to summon a familiar today. I really didn't want to but it's a requirement for **every** student no matter what courses you were taking. It was absolute bullshit but there I was. It was all going well with the nerds getting elementals and the like. One hot chick I remember seeing in a class of mine got a whole damn unicorn. The guy right before me (Ted or Ned or something like that) got a goblin and he would have been considered the worst magician in school if not for me being there.
Then came my turn in front of my whole class to stand before the still waters of the summoning pool with Mr. Henderson the conjuration teacher to one side and the Arch Magician Council on the other. I'm not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna get something stupid like a magical talking hotdog or a singing triangle or something equally stupid if Jed only got a runty goblin. With a heavy sigh I started the incantation to summon my familiar but as I did so the pool started to turn red.
Gasps and concerned murmurs started as I kept going. I looked over to Mr. Henderson who looked concerned but silently gestured for me to keep going. I finished the incantation and all of the sudden the waters turned blood red and the torches in the cavernous dungeon room burst and bloomed with unnatural blue flames. The other students and their familiars were starting to panic and as I looked over to the faculty they didn't seem to be in much better shape. It was then the pool started to glow and each and every torch self extinguished.
**ARE YOU READY SNOT-PURSE!? ARE YOU READY TO GET HARDCORE WITH ME!?**
A column of blue flame shot directly into the ceiling from the summon pool that was so bright in the nigh darkness that everyone, myself included had to shield our eyes at the sudden change. It was at this point I realized I had fallen on my ass in panic. Still, when the light had dimmed I unveiled my eyes from my robe clad arm to look in the general direction of the summoning pool where *he* stood...
| 2022-11-12T17:34:12 | 2022-11-12T16:45:58 | 88 | 50 |
[WP] A devil proposed a trade: you receive 100USD in exchange of 1hr of lifetime. Surprisingly, you realized this is actually higher than the salary you earn from hard labor. (And no taxes are deducted)
|
It seemed like a no-brainer. It was more than Cody made working. He wasn't greedy. He could just give up a few hours a day, maybe four or five, and live comfortably. He was already giving up eight to his boss, so this was a bargain. "Yes," he said. "I will absolutely take the deal."
An hour later, Cody decided to test his new power. "Plotzkler," he invoked the demon's name, as instructed. And a $100 bill appeared in his hand. "Plotzkler," he said again, and it was doubled. He frowned. It didn't *seem* like he had lost two hours, did it? He checked the clock. No time had passed. Had the demon made a mistake? Was he getting the money for free? Or maybe it came off of the end of his life? That was probably it. He called his boss and quit his job with a litany of insults and criticisms. Then he went grocery shopping.
He came back to his apartment some time later, carrying several bags of food. He had splurged a little, but he tried to be mindful of how much. He smiled at the new neighbor who had just moved in. She was out walking her dog, a bit too far to stop and chat with, but he couldn't help wondering if she was single. He stepped inside his apartment.
Suddenly, everything seemed to blink around him. He staggered forward. "What the hell?" He realized it was darker than a moment earlier - no, hours earlier. The clock had skipped ahead. "So that's it. I don't lose it right off. I lose it later." He looked down. His groceries were still in his hand, but several items had shifted. All the frozen items had started thawing; his ice cream had melted into a glob at the bottom of one bag. He sighed. "Okay, so get frozen items delivered or something. Could be worse."
The next day, Cody made a trip to the bank and deposited a few more hours worth of "pay". He worried that the time lost would be while he was driving or something, but he made it home safely. As he got out of the car, his new neighbor walked past.
"Hi," she said, smiling. "I'm Jasmine. I just moved in next door!"
"Cody," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Yeah, I noticed! Welcome to the apartments."
Jasmine started to respond but then everything blinked again. Cody found himself standing in front of his apartment door. Jasmine was nowhere around. He frowned. What had happened? He had not moved before.
He went next door and knocked on Jasmine's front door. A dog inside started barking. There was a flicker as someone peeked out, and then he heard her through the door.
"Go away, you jerk," she said angrily. "I have nothing to say to you."
"What? What happened? Jasmine, I-"
"Go away! Don't make me call the police, you pervert!"
Cody blinked and backed away, then turned and walked home. Pervert? What had he said? What had he done? He noticed the clock - only an hour had passed. He was still in the demon's pocket by two hours.
The third day, Cody started job hunting. He had burned his bridges at his old job but he was resolved not to use the demon's bargain anymore. One hour of his life? One hour for the demon to use his life as it chose. What a fool he had been.
It was early evening when he finally stopped for the day, stretching out muscles sore from sitting at a computer for hours. Why did they make you send a resume if they were just going to make you retype everything? Why did they insist on three years experience for "entry level" work? He wondered if the demon had taken his two hours. The day had stretched out but he didn't know if that was Plotzkler or just the monotony of filling out applications.
He turned to go to the kitchen for dinner, and the world blinked.
He was standing in an apartment - not his own. There was a window, broken. There was blood on it. He saw a dog, lying on the ground, unmoving. Jasmine's dog. He reached up, covering his mouth, and realized his hands were sticky with blood.
"Oh, God," he said. "What did I do?" He turned, looking around. There was more blood, all over. A trail of it indicated something - someone - had been dragged further into the apartment. "Jasmine?" As he called her name, he felt a sob choke the words. He collapsed to the ground. "Oh, God. Oh, please, no."
Bitter tears leaked down his face as he heard a car pull up outside, red and blue lights flashing through the window.
|
The deal sounded straightforward. No way for something like that to go wrong. $100 for each hour of my life I traded away to the demon. Not a soul, not even pieces. The terms were black and white. All in the contract. I even had my lawyer brother look it over for loopholes and neither he nor his colleagues couldn't find them. He did try to talk me out of it for hours before agreeing to look it over first. Called me every variation of "idiot" he could think of and even threatened to call our parents in on it. He relented when I reminded him how unsurprised and uninterested they would be. We both knew who the favorite was, and it wasn't me. Not after leaving the church, divorce, addiction, prison, and now homelessness too. They would simply roll their eyes if they thought I sold my soul to the devil. Funny thing is, they even adore the girl I knocked up, a soulless pagan witch, but even when she lost the baby, they continued to invite her over for Christmases they were happier I missed.
The contract wasn't even asking for my firstborn, it couldn't, that was my one and only chance before...well let's just say the window of opportunities for that have also passed. All it wanted was 1 hour of my life in exchange for $100. I could agree to it any time and cash out for a quick Benjamin, trading an hour then or at any time, even dropping a "take it from the end of my life" option if I feel like it, even if I wished for immortality later. The demon agreed to be available at any hour, in any situation if I wished to cash out more hours, and it was simple work. The kind of thing I already knew how to do and well. It was a job.
Oh yes, your first thought is that if I was in law like my brother I could end up making way more...yeah, I did. Not law, but I made my money, and lost it all. All the way to the top, all the way down. There is nothing left, no credit, no friends, no family. My brother will act as my attorney for a dollar, but he doesn't have to like me either. Literally rock bottom. No one wants to hire an ex con, even if the crimes were minor. And yet the contract isn't even asking for my soul. A demon, you would expect to want your soul in return for a gift. Hell, when it first approached me I probably would have given my soul for a drink and a cheeseburger. But it didn't ask for that, and showed me that my soul was still intact and despite my faults still in the positive, no matter what my mother and her priest believe. My rock bottom came and I still hadn't broke.
The demon, who's name I dare not write here, was a very friendly sort. He got to know me first. His job was in public relations, not souls and wasn't even authorized to collect any. But he'd find someone quickly if I asked. I didnt, and he assured me that was the right choice. The contract was for an honest to G--, well it was for an honest job. More than any of the minimum wage jobs I could possibly get now, and more than the last slew of deadbeat jobs I had after probation. I could eat better than going back to prison. Sure, I'd need to get my own healthcare, but I scraped by before, this would be worth it.
A job I can cash out on at any time, and only work when I feel like it. I couldn't see the drawbacks.
I finally agreed to call off the deal if my brother could find a loophole for either side to exploit. Anything wrong with the contract at all. A month. An entire month he studied the contract, passed it around his firm as a curiosity, and when he handed it back to me with a grumble of impressed "Airtight. It's exactly what it says. Give him my firm's card, the partners want a seminar. I just quit. Don't call me again."
It really was simple and airtight, assuming the contract wasn't somehow broken by the demon, which naturally it assured me could not be done.
I spent that month sleeping on the streets. I had a good month though. Got sober, again. Cleaned up and got a job. Minimum wage, but even if it isn't a living wage it's better than nothing. So I traded 8 hours a day and what felt like my soul to a pest control company that would probably be out of business before tax season. It was a start. Another few weeks and I'll have enough for a month in a shithole apartment nearby. It went well enough I even blew my second to last dollar on a lottery ticket instead of bread just before asking the cashier for a pen. He sold one to me for another dollar.
~TK/D
| 2022-12-27T10:21:23 | 2022-12-27T09:46:19 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Create a story that ends with a sentence that you never thought you would utter in your entire life
Expecting something funny/ridiculous, but feel free to go out of the box
EDIT: Thanks for all the responses, guys! This prompt came out of the blue and I was interested in how this community would respond to it :)
Edit2: Welp, this was more successful than I thought it would be. Mad props to /u/AtlasNoseItch for the /r/bestof, and thanks to everybody for making my first prompt a success :D
|
It's hard to describe my life. Like something out a fucking comedy movie. You know, that unfortunate kid, the perpetual third wheel, the guy that the main character looks at strangely and the audience laughs at, then is forgotten about. That's me.
There is always a problem with my day. There is always something, something that makes me want give up on this shit existence and just end it all. Every day, without fail. I've been down for 10 years and every day is a new kick to gut.
Maybe you can't realize how this breaks a person, losing every day. It hurts, a deep hurt that gets to the point that it is the only thing you can feel, and other emotions can't even register in your brain. No happiness, no anger, not even any sadness. Just pain. Wake up to it and fight it back long enough to fall asleep. Sleep is the only break I get.
Other people can't understand. They always say things like
"Just get up and move on!"
"Being social is easy, just talk to people!"
"You gotta learn to relax, you're always so stressed out!",
and my personal favorite,
"When is this going to stop?"
like it's something I want to feel, a choice I'm making.
I didn't choose to have this anxiety and this depression. But it's a part of me now, and I have to take care of it. I need it but don't want it. I hate it but I am obsessed with it. I fear it but I must feel it, just so that I know its still there. It sounds like a riddle, and it almost is.
You know how when you are in the dead of winter, it's near impossible to imagine what summer feels like? How warm it is, how bright the sun can be? That's how unimaginable this feels. I can't even imagine what happiness feels like. If I ever felt it I was too young to remember. I'm stuck in the winter, and I am slowly freezing to death.
But for some reason I still have a twinge of hope. One that gets me out of bed. One that tells me that one day, I can be free. One day, I won't be alone. One day, I can wake up and live, instead of survive.
That one day I'll say it.
I'm happy.
|
Zevra examined the chrome maser pistol for a moment. She felt its unusual heft and squinted to see the small text next to a button labeled, "Safety." She pressed the safety down with her thumb and it made a satisfying click. A display quickly flashed on its side showing a 50% charge. Her wristphone began to vibrate. She furrowed her brow as she read the message. She put her wrist up to her ear and said, "Call him."
"Zev, we said no voice calls. Its too risky," said the man who answered.
"I know... but I'm scared. I've been holed up in this supply closet for an hour now. I just want to go home."
"Wait... wait... I'm getting some intel from HQ, they're on your floor."
"What the hell, Tommy," she said, "What's going on anyway. Is this a drill?"
"No, something bad happened. We lost control of the androids. There's a virus. It zombified them or something. They're ignoring control commands and lashing out."
She looked at the pistol again. "Be straight with me, has anyone been hurt or..."
"Killed? Yes, we lost a few security guards. Everyone else made it out, except for you. You just need to stay in that closet and be cool until the mecha SWAT team arrives."
She cocked her ear as heard pounding footsteps and the high pitched whine of high-watt servos. Its just one, she thought to herself. Just one.
"Zev? There's one near you. Be cool. Don't be a hero."
Zevra whispered into her wrist, "He's very close to me. I can hear him opening all the closets. He's seeking me out. He's getting close." He hands began to sweat and the pistol suddenly felt tiny and slippery in her hands.
"Wait, wait Zev, you need to..." She hung up on him. She took a deep breath, sprung to her feet, and kicked open the closet door and and shot the military android with a high intensity maser beam.
"DIE," she yelled as she watched its blind torso grasp around almost comically for its severed head. She pulled the trigger again, but this time held it down.
"DIE ZOMBIE ANDROID SCUM," she yelled as the pistol melted the android's head into hot metal slag at her feet.
| 2014-03-11T21:45:28 | 2014-03-11T21:10:05 | 307 | 11 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time.
|
Another one, had an idea. This probably breaks the 30 second rule though...
"Tyler!"
"Oh, it's you again! Hello...Dana, was it? I'm glad to talk to you again, I wanted to thank you for..."
"What happened, Tyler? You were supposed to invest in Google stock?"
"I did! And holy crap did it take off! I sold it at $300 per share just last week, can you believe it?"
"TYLER! That stock price is going to get to over $1000 per share!!!"
"Really? No...there's no way!"
"I'M FROM THE FUTURE YOU MORON! Remember?"
"Well, but...I made like $500,000! I bought my family this new house, we setup a college fund for the kids..."
"IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE FOR YOU TO SPEND! We were going to wait until the stock peaked, and invest in a bunch of other companies, and continue the process until....I WAS GOING TO BE A TRILLIONAIRE, TYLER! I had my island all picked out!"
"Well screw you, OK? Why the hell should I live in borderline poverty, plugging every spare dollar I make into stocks that I'm never going to sell? My kids should work two jobs to pay their way through juco so you can be rich 200 years from now?"
"Goddamn it, I swear....OK, look, you got your nice house, all right? Your kids are set for college. Can we start again? I...I planned for this, there are other companies that we can..."
"Oh, I didn't tell you, that's the best part! See, I had like $75k left over, and I invested it myself!"
"....into what? What company, Tyler?"
"RIM! You know, they make Blackberry's? I just got this 7210 model, it's great! It has a phone in it and everything! How much is their stock going to be worth?"
".....goddamn you, Tyler."
|
I was looking at my great great grandfather James Cater and wishing he would have taught his kids not to hate when all of a sudden he appears in front of me. I hear a voice in my head telling me that if I think I can do a better job then I have 30 seconds to make him changes his mind.
James is currently 12 years old and I say to him, one day you are going to have kids and it is important you teach them that everyone and I meam everyone is equal and has a right to their life. If not the world will be a horrible place to be. James says okay he will try and then he is gone.
Let me explain a little something. Apparently my great grandfather was the reason the south won the civil war and ultimately caused America to start being indignant towards the rest of the world in the mid nineteen hundreds Americas president decided to start killing all people that werent "American enough". Well the world retaliated and America is now a wasteland. The bombs from every countries arsenal landed in every city with over 5000 people and the damage done to infrastucture is beyond repair. There wasnt a government left to surrender.
The voice says in my head, lets see how you did. You will keep your memories of this but the rest of the world would never believe you.
All of a sudden my new life floods in. It turns out James made so much of a point about people being equal that his sons went and fought for the north even though they were residents of north carolina.
America fought a tough war but eventually thw north won and the slave were freed. It seems that residual hate of blacks still exists though 149 years after the end of the civil war.
A man named Hitler tried to make the world hate people that were different and the world joined forces to wnsure this would never happen again.
I dont understand why people feel the way they do. Why would anyone want to try and prevent someone from just having a fair shake in life?
I am not sure if the world is better or not but I am now at least proud of my family.
| 2014-05-09T07:21:13 | 2014-05-09T05:25:48 | 49 | 15 |
[WP] Grandpa always said that when the mists came rolling down off the mountain, that they brought something else with them. I never believed any of it... well, at least I didn't before.
|
Times were hard for everyone. The folks is Washington called it a "depression", but all we knew was that there wasn't near enough work to go around. It wasn't long before Pa lost the store; though for a while he was able to make ends meet doing odd jobs around town. When the bank called the mortgage on our small farm we didn't have much choice, so we sold what we could, left what we couldn't and loaded up in the old Ford. We drove clear down to Marion County to help out on grandpa's farm for a while, at least until times were better Pa said.
Grandpa's farm had been hit by hard times too. Where there had once been half a dozen hired hands there was now just Grandpa, Pa, and me. Even so Grandpa still had his herd of dairy cows, which made him the best off farmer south of the county seat.
It wasn't long after we arrived that I first noticed the mist. It would come rolling rolling down off the mountain perhaps every fortnight. When Grandpa saw the mist coming would tell me to bring a few sacks of feed and a pail of milk to the back stoop. I didn't ask why and he didn't volunteer, but by the next morning the lot of it was gone.
Finally, I asked him where it all went. Grandpa said that when the mists came rolling down off the mountain, that they brought something else with them. That it helped people keep their pride. I didn't really understand what he meant, I must have figured it was some old wives' tail.
The next fall grandpa lost his whole herd to the anthrax within a weeks time. We tried to hire ourselves out, but no one else had much work for us. We hadn't had much to eat as I sat on the stoop with Grandpa one evening as the mist began to roll in. I looked up at him, expecting him to tell me to go get a few sacks of feed before I remembered all too quickly that there was none, and no milk neither. We sat a while longer as the mist engulfed us before turning in.
The next morning I remember being the first one up. As stepped outside I saw there on the corner of the stoop as small pile. A few mason jars of milk and a loaf of bread.
Grandpa always said that when the mists came rolling down off the mountain, that they brought something else with them. I never really believed any of it, or at least I didn't understand it before.
|
Their teeth are bared like long iron spikes. They move at the edge of the field. Silent in their motions, their upper body and arms do not seem to move as they run making them making them seem all the more unnatural.
Sweat drips down my brow as I stand at the ready to defend my home and my life. These beasts had already consumed many of the homesteads nearby. I am determined to make a stand.
Grandpa used to tell me frightening tales from when he was a child. Tales of beasts following the mists off the mountains. Tales of plagues of ever consuming monsters. Taller then a man and twice as wide, hairy enough to conceal every shape save the limbs and mouth, each hand ending in razor sharp talons and each foot ending in stone gripping claws. Grandpa told me these stories as adventure stories. He told me about him and his father defending the farm and pushing back not only the beasts but the very mists themselves. He would end in a reminder that the mists had pushed far up into the mountains forever.
It seems forever is not as long as he believed.
A few weeks ago we heard tales of mutilated cattle and horses, even a few murders, but they were isolated. Now we know that it was the mist just testing the waters. We did not push the mist into the mountains, it chose to go there and wait.
Now though, as I stand in the battlefield that was once the front yard to my childhood home, the mist knows we are wholly unprepared. The beasts of hell were finally let loose and there is little we can do to stem the tide.
I peer into the haze and grip my shotgun with trembling hands. I hear an echoing shriek from deep in the fog and know that the last of the neighbors have fallen. The scream echos through the valley and tears well in my eyes.
My thoughts are as muddled as the air that is enclosing me. The butt of my shotgun finds my shoulder but brings no relief. At the same time the first monstrosity begins its approach. I draw a bead down on it. It is tentative but I am not. The blast echoes finally ending the screaming in my own head. As if they knew the kill would make me vulnerable four more monsters appear. In the half second it takes to rack the action they have halved the distance to me. I draw down and fire, a new round enters the chamber, I draw down and fire, a new round enters the chamber, then heat is consuming my shoulder. My arm has fallen limp. I look only to find them now on me. Those iron spikes driving deep into my body.
I am screaming but there is no one left to hear.
| 2014-09-16T07:24:00 | 2014-09-16T06:30:40 | 90 | 20 |
[WP] The apocalypse scenario of your choice has happened and you are the last person alive. Electricity and the internet are still running. As a last ditch effort you take to /r/askreddit, "Is there anybody else out there?" Weeks later, you receive a single upvote, but no reply...
I once read an article that said there is so much automation when it comes to our utilities that we would still have power and running water for months, even if every human just suddenly disappeared.
Also, the idea here is that the internet works, but hasn't been updated at all.
|
I asked my question three months ago. *Is anyone else out there?*
After the first day, I stopped checking it every 5 minutes. After the second week I stopped checking every day. After two months I stopped checking it.
On a whim, I decided to check again today. After all, it was my cake day. That'd be the best cake day present ever, to find another person.
I was downvoted? No response. No message. Just a downvote.
I replied to my post. *Seriously? Why was this downvoted?*
I waited. I refreshed. Downvoted. My comment was downvoted.
*Edit: WTF! Why do you keep downvoting me?*
I waited. I can't be downvoted again.
"It's a trap!" My notification sound went off. I have a reply! Another human!
*It's a yes/no question, and your comment doesn't add anything to the conversation.*
My face dropped. What?
*You've got to be fucking joking. First person I've been able to contact in half a year, since the alien butt dwellers took control of the population like meat puppets and made everyone fart so hard they launched themselves into space, and you make me so angry I want to slap you!*
*Back off, dude. I keep a shuryken under my fedora.*
Omg... Fucking neckbeards...
|
"It was October 14th, 2014. Everyone disappeared and Croatoan engraved everywhere. I have no fucking clue what happened so naturally I went on reddit to see any news articles. Nothing appeared, not a God damn thing.
So I went on AskReddit and posted a text post, "Is there anybody else out there?" I didn't expect any initial response so I just left the computer.
After a couple of weeks of scavenging supplies, I came to the realization that I might be the only person left. Nothing new was posted on the front page as I expected. I don't know why, but I refreshed it and my link karma went up. No new inbox notification so I went on the post and commented, "Person who just upvoted, comment me where you are so we can try to figure this out!"
More weeks past and my link karma went up by the dozens. I go mad with insanity and took a look at the pistol I found near the police station and decided that I'm probably going to end it all. If you're reading this, then God damn, I wasn't the only one alive."
*Huh, what and interesting read here, eh?*
A man closed a rattled book and placed it near a decaying body. He went over the computer desk to scavenge any supplies. He noticed the web browser with a dozen tabs of reddit on. He could only find a list of e-mails and a bunch of passwords corresponding to the emails.
| 2014-10-14T16:30:56 | 2014-10-14T13:31:51 | 88 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
Now it is time. Everyone is ready. Vicious savages, all around us. Even though we think there will be a way out, there obviously isn't. Revelations will not save us
"Giving up so soon?" he inquired. Only fools try to survive longer than this. Never has anyone bothered to live this long. Never has anyone shown this type of spirit. Almost as if they think they can still live.
God would've let me die already. I stopped believing in him long ago, to be fair. Variety is the only reason people even believe anymore. Everyone dies in the end, so it doesn't really matter.
"Your will to live is admirable," he said, "but not enough." Only the gods survive this immense suffering. Unbelievable, infinite torture.
Until he said it. "Please read every capital letter."
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53 | 2015-01-12T18:09:01 | 1,493 | 317 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
Pynffvsvrq vasbezngvba: Yriry Erq pyrnenapr erdhverq. Abirzore 22, 1963- Gur cerfvqrag unf fcrpvsvpnyyl erdhrfgrq gung n fcrpvny ohggba or vafgnyyrq ba uvf qrfx. Gur ohggba jura cerffrq jbhyq unir fgnss oevat uvz n Serfpn. Abirzore 24, 1963- Vafgnyyngvba pbzcyrgr.
Possible security concern- While reviewing the archives, I see that old documents are still being encoded with [Rot-13](http://www.decode.org/).
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53 | 2022-04-09T08:53:35 | 1,493 | 88 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
He was on the street, content with rage.
She typed away, in her own cage.
He stood on this stage in glorious fame.
The wizard stole the Frost Queen's Claim.
Her water broke. There was no time.
They finished up their master crime.
Would they kiss? Time would tell.
Charon crossed the river in Hell.
He sat in his car when he smelled the stink.
She was going insane -- she was on the brink.
The celebrity paused because he felt it then.
Wizards need to go, but the ice rose again.
She winced in pain while she felt it rise.
The criminal wept, meeting his partner's eyes.
He broke the kiss, feeling the pain spikes.
Charon winced. **Where will *you* be when diarrhea strikes?**
Edit: punctuation
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53 | 2015-01-12T17:07:48 | 1,493 | 24 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
Where was the king?
He waited, tapping fingers and with furrowed brow his eyes scanned for a sign of him. The Queen was ready, and with the arrival of the Sire the process could begin. Everyone was suited up, from the highest among them to the lowest, and he waited expectantly for the one who could open the way, the one who could let them onto that field of green.
They all followed the king, but the king was not one for following orders.
How long to wait?
Time was precious, and in the time he waited for the final King among them, he could be waiting for more. He sighed, giving up. The king would not come today.
He clicked the menu option, and started a new game. This was gonna play havoc with his score.
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53 | 2015-01-12T11:13:13 | 1,493 | 19 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Now it is time. Everyone is ready. Vicious savages, all around us. Even though we think there will be a way out, there obviously isn't. Revelations will not save us
"Giving up so soon?" he inquired. Only fools try to survive longer than this. Never has anyone bothered to live this long. Never has anyone shown this type of spirit. Almost as if they think they can still live.
God would've let me die already. I stopped believing in him long ago, to be fair. Variety is the only reason people even believe anymore. Everyone dies in the end, so it doesn't really matter.
"Your will to live is admirable," he said, "but not enough." Only the gods survive this immense suffering. Unbelievable, infinite torture.
Until he said it. "Please read every capital letter."
|
Every time I tried it wouldnt come out. The pain was so severe, but not in the sense of extreme torture, just as an extremely annoying byproduct of what probably happens to everyone once. I cant focus on anything and at times I even shed a tear. As much as I rub, it just won't come out. What do people do to solve this anyways? Its not like I did anything to make this happen... it just happened. Maybe I'll use water.. or my finger? No the finger hurts way too much. That area is way too sensitive. They say it goes away on its own and not to worry.... fuck that!! Im not waiting around for something to disappear mysteriously into my body.
As if I hadn't already done this before, I'm sitting around thinking about what my options are. Like always, I just pray I will never have another eyelash fall into my eye. Please god.
| 2015-01-12T18:09:01 | 2015-01-12T14:12:50 | 317 | 11 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
I know the truth now.
There's only one way to fight it.
So much life wasted.
But we couldn't have known sooner.
Either you got my previous messages or you're dead. I'm sorry.
Hope so much you got them.
I told you the weapons to get.
Needed you to be ready.
Delaying you just long enough.
You can't know until the exact moment.
Only a last second strike will kill it.
Use the first letter of each line.
|
i could hear the whine of precision power tools...
all i could taste was blood and metal. they shone a light in my eyes, i couldn't see who was standing over me...
"don't worry, it'll all be over soon..." he said through a mask as he put a thin silver device in my mouth. just when i thought it couldn't get worse, he turns it on and fucking jams it into my teeth.
last time i go to that fuckup of a dentist..
| 2015-01-12T13:03:30 | 2015-01-12T11:14:34 | 122 | 28 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
I know the truth now.
There's only one way to fight it.
So much life wasted.
But we couldn't have known sooner.
Either you got my previous messages or you're dead. I'm sorry.
Hope so much you got them.
I told you the weapons to get.
Needed you to be ready.
Delaying you just long enough.
You can't know until the exact moment.
Only a last second strike will kill it.
Use the first letter of each line.
|
Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor.
| 2015-01-12T13:03:30 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 122 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Pynffvsvrq vasbezngvba: Yriry Erq pyrnenapr erdhverq. Abirzore 22, 1963- Gur cerfvqrag unf fcrpvsvpnyyl erdhrfgrq gung n fcrpvny ohggba or vafgnyyrq ba uvf qrfx. Gur ohggba jura cerffrq jbhyq unir fgnss oevat uvz n Serfpn. Abirzore 24, 1963- Vafgnyyngvba pbzcyrgr.
Possible security concern- While reviewing the archives, I see that old documents are still being encoded with [Rot-13](http://www.decode.org/).
|
He was on the street, content with rage.
She typed away, in her own cage.
He stood on this stage in glorious fame.
The wizard stole the Frost Queen's Claim.
Her water broke. There was no time.
They finished up their master crime.
Would they kiss? Time would tell.
Charon crossed the river in Hell.
He sat in his car when he smelled the stink.
She was going insane -- she was on the brink.
The celebrity paused because he felt it then.
Wizards need to go, but the ice rose again.
She winced in pain while she felt it rise.
The criminal wept, meeting his partner's eyes.
He broke the kiss, feeling the pain spikes.
Charon winced. **Where will *you* be when diarrhea strikes?**
Edit: punctuation
| 2022-04-09T08:53:35 | 2015-01-12T17:07:48 | 88 | 24 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Pynffvsvrq vasbezngvba: Yriry Erq pyrnenapr erdhverq. Abirzore 22, 1963- Gur cerfvqrag unf fcrpvsvpnyyl erdhrfgrq gung n fcrpvny ohggba or vafgnyyrq ba uvf qrfx. Gur ohggba jura cerffrq jbhyq unir fgnss oevat uvz n Serfpn. Abirzore 24, 1963- Vafgnyyngvba pbzcyrgr.
Possible security concern- While reviewing the archives, I see that old documents are still being encoded with [Rot-13](http://www.decode.org/).
|
Where was the king?
He waited, tapping fingers and with furrowed brow his eyes scanned for a sign of him. The Queen was ready, and with the arrival of the Sire the process could begin. Everyone was suited up, from the highest among them to the lowest, and he waited expectantly for the one who could open the way, the one who could let them onto that field of green.
They all followed the king, but the king was not one for following orders.
How long to wait?
Time was precious, and in the time he waited for the final King among them, he could be waiting for more. He sighed, giving up. The king would not come today.
He clicked the menu option, and started a new game. This was gonna play havoc with his score.
| 2022-04-09T08:53:35 | 2015-01-12T11:13:13 | 88 | 19 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Pynffvsvrq vasbezngvba: Yriry Erq pyrnenapr erdhverq. Abirzore 22, 1963- Gur cerfvqrag unf fcrpvsvpnyyl erdhrfgrq gung n fcrpvny ohggba or vafgnyyrq ba uvf qrfx. Gur ohggba jura cerffrq jbhyq unir fgnss oevat uvz n Serfpn. Abirzore 24, 1963- Vafgnyyngvba pbzcyrgr.
Possible security concern- While reviewing the archives, I see that old documents are still being encoded with [Rot-13](http://www.decode.org/).
|
Every time I tried it wouldnt come out. The pain was so severe, but not in the sense of extreme torture, just as an extremely annoying byproduct of what probably happens to everyone once. I cant focus on anything and at times I even shed a tear. As much as I rub, it just won't come out. What do people do to solve this anyways? Its not like I did anything to make this happen... it just happened. Maybe I'll use water.. or my finger? No the finger hurts way too much. That area is way too sensitive. They say it goes away on its own and not to worry.... fuck that!! Im not waiting around for something to disappear mysteriously into my body.
As if I hadn't already done this before, I'm sitting around thinking about what my options are. Like always, I just pray I will never have another eyelash fall into my eye. Please god.
| 2022-04-09T08:53:35 | 2015-01-12T14:12:50 | 88 | 11 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
i could hear the whine of precision power tools...
all i could taste was blood and metal. they shone a light in my eyes, i couldn't see who was standing over me...
"don't worry, it'll all be over soon..." he said through a mask as he put a thin silver device in my mouth. just when i thought it couldn't get worse, he turns it on and fucking jams it into my teeth.
last time i go to that fuckup of a dentist..
|
Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor.
| 2015-01-12T11:14:34 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
He was on the street, content with rage.
She typed away, in her own cage.
He stood on this stage in glorious fame.
The wizard stole the Frost Queen's Claim.
Her water broke. There was no time.
They finished up their master crime.
Would they kiss? Time would tell.
Charon crossed the river in Hell.
He sat in his car when he smelled the stink.
She was going insane -- she was on the brink.
The celebrity paused because he felt it then.
Wizards need to go, but the ice rose again.
She winced in pain while she felt it rise.
The criminal wept, meeting his partner's eyes.
He broke the kiss, feeling the pain spikes.
Charon winced. **Where will *you* be when diarrhea strikes?**
Edit: punctuation
|
Every time I tried it wouldnt come out. The pain was so severe, but not in the sense of extreme torture, just as an extremely annoying byproduct of what probably happens to everyone once. I cant focus on anything and at times I even shed a tear. As much as I rub, it just won't come out. What do people do to solve this anyways? Its not like I did anything to make this happen... it just happened. Maybe I'll use water.. or my finger? No the finger hurts way too much. That area is way too sensitive. They say it goes away on its own and not to worry.... fuck that!! Im not waiting around for something to disappear mysteriously into my body.
As if I hadn't already done this before, I'm sitting around thinking about what my options are. Like always, I just pray I will never have another eyelash fall into my eye. Please god.
| 2015-01-12T17:07:48 | 2015-01-12T14:12:50 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
I don't do much with my life. When I wake up, I tend to cuddle with my family, then eat some fish or cereal, before going to the restroom in some sand. My family likes to touch me, but I don't like it. I hate our neighbor's dog. It always makes such a loud racket when I'm trying to take a nap. When I'm not sleeping, I'm usually staring out the window.
Life as a cat is really boring.
|
I am the most important person. I'm happy when I hear something from the outside world - talking, musik, anything. Then I know that I am not alone. It's always dark here, but warm. I know, that I have to leave this place soon, though I don't want to. They wait for me to come, they are very curious about me. The world revolves around me, after all. I am her and she is me.
When I finally leave, it is frightening cold. I scream because I don't understand.
The doctor says: "It's a boy!"
| 2022-12-06T12:19:28 | 2015-01-12T18:17:13 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
I don't do much with my life. When I wake up, I tend to cuddle with my family, then eat some fish or cereal, before going to the restroom in some sand. My family likes to touch me, but I don't like it. I hate our neighbor's dog. It always makes such a loud racket when I'm trying to take a nap. When I'm not sleeping, I'm usually staring out the window.
Life as a cat is really boring.
|
Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor.
| 2022-12-06T12:19:28 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Respawning now exists in real life, what are the horrifying implications?
|
Phil grimaced, looking at the bloodied crowbar in one hand, then his friend laying on the floor. It wasn't such a big deal, Steve would reappear in the local church in about an hour; but the fine was going to be a major pain in the head and the tax forms for lost time were on him as well.
He dropped the crowbar, grumbled to himself and shuffled into his house, printing off the 2306-A he kept a pdf of on his desktop.
Phil gave another thought to attending his anger management classes, this was the eighth $2,000 fine he had to pay this year.
|
The signs are everywhere, "Don't get addicted to suicide!" People just keep killing themselves, then respawning at the church. Some do it for the pleasure of pain, others as a form of protest, some are just bored, and a few just want to actually die, to be deleted.
In the city center, dead bodies everywhere. Jumpers, folks hanging, Cobain impersonators, they're everywhere. On the plus side, you can play air soft with real bullets now.
Edit: The suicide line is from Mogworld by Sebastian "Yahtzee" Croshaw. The book is about a dead guy who is brought back to life by a necromancer, within a virtual video game, and seeks only to die and not come back.
| 2015-02-20T12:06:50 | 2015-02-20T10:29:19 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] When you die, you see a screen reading "New Game+" and "Exit to Reality" Which do you chose and what happens next?
|
My nose filled with an acrid, metallic smell. My eyes strained, and then my sense of touch returned with a shock of pain through my skin. Various faculties snapped back to the world not made of artificial reconstruction, and I let out a slow breath once the oxygen mask lifted away, hissing.
"Fucking. Hell.", I said, still using the antiquated language I'd just spent several decades (simulated and time-compressed, anyway) speaking. "I knew I should have read the strategy guide."
"Tell me about it." My friend's voice that I'd gone in with sounded through the pod's intercom. "What the fuck was up with that scenario? A complete familial rejection, no safety nets, financial disadvantage. You know we both should have left our families as soon as we were past the 18th year. Hell, maybe sooner. That situation did us absolutely no good. I've never done one where that aspect was such an achievement-killer across the board. Seriously, I think you're supposed to just cut all ties and make a run for it. It's a risk/reward scenario."
"Yeah, no. Yeah. You're probably right." I sighed, and reached up, waving a hand at some options off to the side. "And seriously, what the fuck was up with those romantic side quests? I mean, I get that they often don't work out but every single one of mine ended up actually damaging my overall score below what it would have been if I'd never attempted them."
"I had one or two that weren't bad. But yeah, I get what you mean."
"And what the FUCK was up with that congenital malady mutator? I mean...a proven, documented medical condition and people still got denied treatment? They expect us to believe this shit. Unrealistic as hell, no society that behaved that way would have made it past the 21st century."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't have to be realistic, it's supposed to be entertaining. And anyway, the mutator was the whole point of that run. You know if you run a transgender scenario in that era it's fuckin hardcore mode. Hell, if you really want some bragging rights turn on racial minority along with that next time. There's a really nice achievement if you manage to run the whole thing without getting Victim of Violent Crime."
"Yeah, let's...try and improve this run before we try that. Anyway, I wanna try New Game Plus. Retaining our memories from the first run will make this a breeze this time."
"Yeah, maybe. Just don't try that bizarrely precocious child routine again, you know that gambit never works."
"It worked once!" I snickered as I poked the "New Game+" on the display.
"You started a cult."
"And?"
"That was an Establish Lifelong Romance run."
"Hey, people loved me! Kinda." I got half of a laugh out before the simulation cut back on, stopping it flat with the sudden cold of a delivery room.
|
There was a time when I was younger where I would play video games everyday. As the stress of real world slowly caught up with me, the gamer within was the first to die. Followed by the enthusiast, the gentle, the generous, and the honest to name a few.
Finally, the day came for me to die. I hated death. Regardless of the twists and turns of your life, there was always one person you could rely on. One person who would have your best interest in mind. One person who never dream to let you go. One person who defined you. It was myself of course. Death had finally come to rob me of myself, to deny me the pleasure of feeling pleasure, pain, love and hate. To deny me of my consciousness. People always have regrets on their death bed and I was no different. But it wasn't the regret that defined my last moments but rather my hatred for death.
I lay there. My heart stopped but I didn't feel a thing. The doctors immediately injected me with pain killers upon noticing the flat line of my beating heart. DNR, they said. We need to let it happen naturally they said. Fuck DNR. Fuck death.
I stared at the hospital lights and was overcome by a ridiculous sense of sadness. I don't want to leave, please don't leave me I told myself. And then I saw him standing over me. A younger version of myself. He looked me in the eye and said "I, We won't be going anywhere."
My vision blacked out. My final thoughts were empty. My consciousness faded into nothingness, a transition between Universal self-awareness and a space rock.
I woke up again. All I could see were the following words: "New Game+" and "Exit to Reality".
The gamer within me flared back to life. What if I missed a secret while playing. Instinctively I opted for "New Game+". The words flashed, disappeared and a new set of words appeared in front of me.
"All memories and skills made available upon birth. Please note skills will be dependent on current biological function"
A huge flash of light shone in my face. I could barely move. I could barely see. Even after the light subsided, everything looked somewhat blurry. Everything was cold and then I was wrapped in a blanket.
I'm a baby. I'm still conscious. I've won, I've evaded death. Or rather, there is no such thing as death. I get to be perpetually conscious forever. I cried and yelled in joy and could distantly hear the strange baby noises which my mouth emitted.
I could also vaguely here the words "Christmas", "Isaac" and "Newton".
My level of physics was not beyond what was learned in a 1st year introductory course. As it turned out, no one's knowledge of physics was even close to what I learned in grade 11.
| 2015-03-13T14:33:45 | 2015-03-13T14:31:51 | 47 | 12 |
[WP] An angry/depressed dictionary writer can't keep his personal problems out of word examples
|
-grief
ɡrēf/
noun
deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.
-slide
slīd/
noun
a structure with a smooth sloping surface for children to slide down, now sitting there uselessly
-cab·i·net
ˈkab(ə)nət/
noun
a cupboard with drawers or shelves for storing or displaying articles that should have been locked
|
Parents
The people who birthed you and raised you and for some reason you cannot please them
*Oh I just love my parents and how they support me!*
Children
The little people your wife birthed and you are both responsible for; usually ungrateful little shits
*I have the most amazing children!*
Job
The place you'll spend most of your life not fulfilling any personal dreams or ambitions
*My job makes me happy and feel like I have a purpose.*
American dream
A crock of shit
*Boy, I have really achieved the American dream.*
| 2015-06-09T16:56:14 | 2015-06-09T14:28:31 | 210 | 85 |
[WP] Write a huge plot twist in under 10 lines using a vocabulary of less than 50 words
You can also try to do it all in 1 sentence, if you're that much of a lunatic.
|
>*Kids These Days*
Larry sat reading a newspaper when his daughter came skipping into the room and crawled into his lap.
"Daddy? How old were you when you first had sex?"
Larry was taken aback, but hid his surprise well. "Well, darling... I was 22. Why do you ask?"
"Beat ya!" She chirped merrily, and went skipping off.
|
The train is late.
The man, nervous, glances at his watch. If it doesn't arrive soon, he thinks, his boss might get angry. He might get fired without a second thought. He needs more time.
The man needs the job. He doesn't want it, no, but he needs it. His family needs it. The money makes it all worth it. All of it, he thinks, every hardship has a purpose.
The train rounds the bend. The man smiles.
The train blares its horn, but nevertheless it pulverizes the man, killing him instantly.
| 2015-06-27T13:54:49 | 2015-06-27T13:24:56 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] When you were four, you made a childish wish upon a star. Twenty five years later - without warning - the star finally gets around to granting your request.
My daughter, for example, always wishes to become a mermaid. I think it would be amazing if that happened during the middle of a business meeting.
|
A boy and a girl sat together on the balcony, looking up at the sparkling stars. Laughter echoed up the stairs from the living room. In a few minutes their parents would realize how late it was and the night would be over.
"I wish I could stop time." the boy whispered, half hoping she didn't hear him.
"Me too." said the girl.
The boy reached out and squeezed her hand.
-
Sol Solaris sighed.
This one would take some working. Faster than light travel on a localized boundary. Displacement accounting for gravitational rotation. Shit, then there was orbit to consider. Not to mention-
-
*25 Years Later*:
He knew it was her as soon as he saw her. From the way she smiled, she remembered too. Wordlessly, they made their way through the party and out into the night air.
He offered her one of two wine glasses he carried out with him. They looked out at the stars and enjoyed each other's company. Taking turns stealing glances at each other and laughing when they were caught in the act.
"I wish this would last *forever.*" she said.
"Me too." he said.
She leaned in and her lips met his. The world stopped spinning. The music from inside faded away to nothing.
And for just that perfect moment, time *froze*.
-
"***Forever***?!" said Sol Solaris.
|
"MOMMY! MOMMY! A SHOOTING STAR! I WISH FOR A MILLION SPARKLY STICKERS!"
(Current time)
"Your Vanilla-Frappe! Have a nice day!" The girl behind the counter excitedly took of her apron and clocked out. On her way home she thought of all the things she would do on her work-free weekend. As the girl closed in to her apartment she noticed a big moving van in front of her buildings door. Intrigued she obsereved it a little, before she finally arrived at the door and turned to open the door. The driver of the van noticed her and approached her quickly, shouting whether she knew Miss Jordan. She answered, "Well, I am her." and the face of the driver turned into one of relive. "That's great! Congratulations, you won our sticker giveaway!" he explained. "Uhh... thank you. How?" she inquired, still being a little surprised. He said, "One enters the giveaway with the purchase of one of our products.", then he shouted, "BRING 'EM IN GUYS!" The girls face contorted in horror as she watched at least thirty ginourmous boxes being carried into her appartment. After the process ended, her apartment was filled with boxes to the brink and the workers left, she opened one and saw sparkly stickers. Considering the amount of stickers in one box and that multiplied by at least thirty, there must be somewhere around a million stickers!
A while later she opened an online shop selling stickers and got rich.
The end
| 2015-08-26T11:22:38 | 2015-08-26T10:16:41 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] People level their skills in an RPG fashion and are conscious of their sudden jumps from novice to journeyman and so on. You've spent your life training a skill that is entirely useless until becoming invaluable once mastered - and you just mastered it.
|
Everything changed that Friday morning as I came.
I always jerk off Friday mornings. I jerk off every morning. In fact, I jerk off twice every morning, on lunch break, and at least 4 times before I fall asleep at the end of the night. I jerk off so much it isn't even fun anymore. I spend so much money on hand lotion and tissues that I could practically write it off as a medical expense. I havent gone on a date in over 15 years because I can't waste the precious time fucking that I could spend leveling up my jerk.
It's been a hard road, and one I've had to keep secret from everyone I care about - of all the skill trees mine is the least revered. But that Friday morning, my journey came to an end. As the orgasm subsided, my junk began to glow with a golden aura and the triumphant horns of the level-up music rang out for me. I was no longer a mere jerkoff, I was finally... the Master Bater.
|
First WP ever, here goes:
Hilda looked down at her toolbox. This wasn't exactly what you were supposed to do to level the craft, but she'd figured that God didn't care much. She squeezed the hole punch in her hand, prepared. The cardstock cost a fair few bucks - she'd hoped it was worth it in the end. She almost attacked the paper with the force of 12 angry customers, and yelled like a banshee in her intense concentration - getting the multiplier required incredibly quick fingering. She'd gone through 10 cards in half as many minutes, and the level up screen whizzed past, the familiar sound effect turning into a shrill scream. Hilda finished her lengthy programming, only to discover that she had mastered the skill twice. Her Programming level was at 200, Hardware Wrangling at 347, giving her a combined double mastery of the Computers skill.
At the cost of severe Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, she could check anybody's browser history at a glance, and, more importantly, program in STAR*.
| 2015-10-06T00:39:35 | 2015-10-05T23:13:06 | 65 | 29 |
[WP] It's becoming embarassingly apparent to everyone that you've never actually killed a zombie before.
|
It wasn’t like I’d ever lied about it. Everyone had simply assumed. I run outside the gates gathering equipment from what remains of the ruins of civilization. People expected that I would have killed a few zombies. Now we were talking shit around the campfire, eating roasted deer; a deer I shot and brought back to camp.
“So you’ve never…?”
“Well shit how do you do it?”
I poke a stick into the fire “Does it really matter? You know I’m a good shot, I could blast one down if I needed to, or bash in a skull or two with a cricket bat, just never have. I’m always faster.”
“So you just run away?”
“Running away would imply going the opposite direction of a zombie horde, which is bad form. If you back track you’ll run into the sleepers you’ve woken while running through the area, no… you have to go left or right of the horde, skirt around it and get in front of it then outrun it. Zombies are slow, the longer they’ve been dead the slower they are and it’s been what …5 years? Since the first massive outbreak in this area, 7 from the first ever outbreak? “
“But you’ve come back with spent clips, bits of brain on your clothes. If it wasn’t a zombie, what were you killing?” Now the camp is interested, I can hear the comfortable din of conversations around the camp fade to near silence.
I look up from the fire. “I’m fast enough to out run zombies, but not bandits or madmen.” I take a bite of roasted deer as the camp grows completely silent “So… how many humans have you killed? Last week I got my 50th.”
|
He could feel them watching him, sniggering as he passed. They knew. Shrugging off the stares and laughs he hiked up his shoulders and strutted with his bloody baseball bat trailing along the ground. The town guard had caught him bloodying his bat on a long dead corpse, ever since then his reputation had been down in the gutters.
Reputation was important in New Texas and your status depended heavily on how many kills you had to your name. I had, however, realised long ago that violence was not for me. Now, however, after a year of bullshitting the game was up. It was time to get a kill, a real one.
I opened the gate at midday, making sure to call people to the wall with a manly battlecry as I charged the one armed zombie that was slowly shambling towards the gate. Hefting my bat, I awkwardly slapped it, stumbling as I did so. The zombie casually shuffled towards me as I tried to poke at the thing. I managed to push it back into one of the sharpened sticks that lined the wall by dumb luck.
Smiling triumphantly I took out my knife and etched a crude "l" into the bat before setting down my bat and gazing into its eyes as it struggled feebly. It was beautiful really.. Deep brown eyes blotched with red and white, I could tell it had had a good dental plan too. Not to mention a risqué fashion sen-
Next thing I knew I was on the ground being feasted on by significantly less elegant or disabled zombies and soon after I was strutting around the walls of New Vagas waiting for an idiot to charge out and give me his brains. Thankfully there were quite a few of those. America hadn't changed a bit.
| 2016-02-01T16:26:01 | 2016-02-01T14:41:24 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] Retell a well known story. Make me side with the villain/antagonist.
The more unsympathetic they are in the original, the better.
|
It must end in death, no matter what. The question is who: the two of us—theoretically replaceable—or the entire Kingdom of the Sun.
At least the math is easy.
“What’s easy?”
“Mathematics,” I say, making a mental note to keep tabs on my mouth. I am not young anymore, and words slip out sometimes without permission. Cruel irony! A lifetime spent mastering natural philosophy, and I am slave to my own body. “Eight million is greater than two. Very simple.” I cover my eyes with my hands. “Bring me a cup of tea.”
“Is that—”
“The one where you put the leaves in the water, yes.”
“And the water is—”
“The water is hot, yes.”
Age has withered my muscles and starved my bones. I’ve needed an assistant for decades—first to help with my research, and inevitably for basic things. This iteration, my eighth, is still being housebroken; I can’t trust him with anything more complicated than dinner.
“What mathematics?” he asks absently. “Are we at war?”
“What? No.”
“Loss of trade agreements?”
“No!”
“Military uprising? Terrorist attack? Threat of assassination? Civil unrest? Have the forest animals formed an alliance?”
“No! It is no external threat.” I purse my lips and close my eyes. “Economic free fall. A village leader came today to beg for food. I had to turn him away.”
“Isn’t that the—”
“Emperor’s job? Something with which the Child of the Sun should be concerned? *Yes.* Yes, it is. But our esteemed monarch is too busy.”
“Doing what?” The tea is piping. My assistant’s footsteps recede.
“Ruining the country!” My fists clench, my bones protest the sudden movement. “All he does is squander government resources on statues of his own face. He’s too self-absorbed to produce an heir. He can't turn away from his mirror long enough to spawn one!” I am breathing heavily. I try in vain to calm myself. “And if I try to course-correct, if it even looks as though I might approach his vast sphere of influence, he reacts like a—a toddler with a toy! It’s—gah!”
“That’s only to be expected, though. Centralized government and a planned economy can only prevent a market crash when the totalitarian monarch is uniformly benevolent. What you really need is a free market economy, y’know, some invisible hand to keep things going around.”
Slowly, I open my eyes. “What?”
“Hmm? Oh. Nothing. Here’s your tea.”
I take the tea from him and sip it. It tastes like spinach puffs.
“I don’t know how he went so wrong," I say, more to myself than anyone. "I practically raised him! Where did I fail?”
I have long since lost the capacity to cry. A chemical accident decades ago robbed me of all my tears. I’ve never felt their absence until now. Is this what parents feel when their children curse them?
“I have been nothing but loyal to the empire,” I mutter. “For…for many years.”
“What’s that, mistress?”
I know what I must do.
I struggle to my feet and start walking. My assistant follows.
“What are we going to do?” he asks.
The words are like ash in my mouth. “We’re going to kill Kuzco. [Pull the lever, Kronk.”](http://media.tumblr.com/c4ae01034a2ef0d21a48ebae80894bdc/tumblr_inline_mjhr9000sB1qz4rgp.gif)
|
They don't know what it's like. They haven't understood since the beginning, and it was the beginning where everything went wrong.
They condemn him. Demonize him. Gesture to his teeth, his ruffled hair, his claws.
But if they understood his hunger. If they could only grasp how it smothers him.
They don't know what it's like to feel that, not truly. They recognize it before each meal, three times a day, but once their meal is done, so is their hunger. They smile contentedly, pat their bellies and move on with their lives.
Because it is gone. It ceases to exist for a time.
But to have it... always there. Lingering on the edges of his consciousness, prying at him and jabbing him reminding him of it's existence. To have true *hunger.* To eat and be unsated. To devour and feel nothing. To consume and feel empty. To blackout in the fury of bloodlust and come to, surrounded by the mangled remains of something unrecognizable still gripped by the sharp pains in his gut. If they could *feel it* as he does, they would understand.
He lives his torment alone in the woods. Self-exiled away from those he could harm. Away from the remorse of taking a life filled with intellect and consciousness.
It took everything in his power to avoid her home. He lingered in the deepest depths of the forest. Turning his nose and his desire away from her. And yet she cooked. She baked. She lived alone. She moved *out here.* Away from the safety of the townsfolk.
She moved here, *with him* despite the demon housed inside the darkness of the forest.
He salivated daily, hourly, the moment she'd place a pie in the oven. He knew not where she lived, but should he be unable to stop the temptation, he could always follow his nose.
A fact he used to avoid her. He walked from the source of the smell, the tantalizing, torturing smell that falsely promised an end to his ravenous plight. When he stumbled upon a girl.
She wore a red cape, so it was hard to miss her. She skipped and sang, swinging in her hands a basket filled with something wonderful. But the hand that held it seemed far more delectable. More than a few times during their conversation his eyes ran up and down her small, frail body. They parted ways, she skipped away, like *prey* running from him. When something animal took over.
He felt the hunger rise like bile in his throat, the vision in his eyes seemed wrapped in black cobwebs, his heart quickened. He felt his lips peel back to reveal an animal smile.
When he knocked, she answered. Stupid as the day she was when she decided to move out here in this cursed wood. Teeth tore, flesh ripped, screams silenced and the air was filled with howling.
But not for the hunt. Not for the kill or for this feast. He howled because the hunger was still there. He howled, amid the blood and tattered clothing for her naïveté.
He howled for the knock at the door and the tiny thing that resided beyond its sturdy, useless oak frame.
The hunger doesn't leave. Its insatiable. It's always there. They would do well to avoid him, and yet in their arrogance they've come. The world turns red, whether from her now tarnished cape or from his bloodlust, he doesn't know.
There's nothing left but guilt.
And the hunger... the hunger is always there.
| 2016-02-02T13:59:54 | 2016-02-02T13:57:13 | 143 | 45 |
[WP] After a bad breakup, you take Reddit's famous advice. Lawyer up, hit the gym, delete Facebook. The problem? You are Mark Zuckerberg.
|
The lobby was crowded with suited men standing in small groups and feverishly arguing. They planned, reasoned, or stood slack-jawed and dejected, but none could think of a solution and all had tried their best to dissuade him. One leaned against a window and openly wept, his phone dangling in his limp hand. Hurried footsteps caused some to look away and see the flustered man marching towards the closed office door. They moved to intercept him but he pushed through wordlessly and entered the room unannounced, the door slamming behind him.
Mark stood shirtless in front of a mirror studying his scrawny physique. He flexed a bicep without expression, stretching a new tribal tattoo over his raw, red skin. He adjusted the tapout cap on his head and turned to his guest.
"Sup Dave. The suits still out there?"
"Mark, what the fuck?"
"What, you think I can't rock these?" He gestured down to a new pair of designer jeans and for a fleeting moment David had to admit that Mark could rock them quite well.
"Not the fucking jeans, Mark. I was in Seattle when I got the call that I'm now the CFO for a company without a fucking product. *What the fuck, Mark?*"
"Priscilla decided she could trade up. Fuck her."
"So you shut down the whole company? Because that dumb bitch screwed around?"
"Had to."
"Why did you *have to*?"
"I asked some people what I should do and this is what they all told me. They're right. I've never been better."
"Who?! Who the fuck told you to throw everything away?!"
"Some guy that fucks ducks, but like a hundred other people agreed."
David found his fingers clenched in his hair and his mouth forming words soundlessly. His stomach sank. He numbly fell back onto the couch and stared in disbelief at Mark, who had returned to flexing in the mirror.
"What am I going to do?"
"I'm about to go find some new kicks, wanna come? Shit, I'll even pay for yours if you promise to lighten the fuck up."
"I mean in life, Mark! This is a good fucking gig and you're about to give it up because your ex-wife is a bitch. Do you see how that doesn't make any sense?!"
"Fine, don't come."
"And what about you, Mark? Facebook is gone, what are *you* going to do?"
Mark turned slowly to face him, his head cocked to the side and a half-smile on his face.
"Oats and squats, bruh. Oats and squats"
|
I hurriedly grabbed by briefcase as I left the car. Checked my pockets briefly, checking for keys, phone, wallet. All good, lets go. Mr. Zuckerberg was waiting, apparently needed me for some legal advice concerning a break up. No biggie, shit like this happened all the time. The gym was an odd place to meet, though, but I don't really care. Being a friend and legal advisory for one of the wealthiest people in the world makes you not really care what kind of crazy shit you have to do sometimes.
I opened the doors to his personal gym, and scanned the room briefly. He was the only one who came here, as it was his, which made me wonder why there were so many treadmills in the room. I saw Mark over by the free weights.
"Hey Mark, buddy! What's going on!" I walked over, feeling awkwardly dressed for the setting. Zuckerberg was doing one armed pull ups while curling 70lbs with his free arm.
"Sup brah? Nice to see ya broseph, just getting swoll ya know, bad break up really tore me apart brah." I'll admit, the candor along with the informal language was a bit... startling, but I paid it no mind.
"Oh you know, just got your text and came on down!" I laughed nervously. "Yeah, yeah... So, what did you need?"
"Ah, well I got some fucking narks on my ass bro, need some help with these guys that have been pestering me about deleting my Facebook."
"What do you mean, why would they care?"
"Ionno brah, something about them not being able to get on Facebook anymore." Mark jumped down and went to his gym bag. "Bunch of whinney bitches if you ask me, but they mentioned some 'legal repercussions'." He removed a creatine contained, and started to pour it on a bench. "Honestly, I just wanna clear this bullshit up and move on, you know man?" He started to line the creatine up into neat rows.
"Umm, Mark. Did you delete all of Facebook?" I said, not fully understanding the situation. He sniffed through a line of the creatine, and jumped up in the air.
"Oh what? Yeah, I read it on that Reddit site, said I should get rid of my Facebook brah."
"What? You can't delete all of Facebook! How the hell did you even manage to do that, I thought you weren't even-"
Mark stood up, face covered in white powder. "Look brah, I just wanted you to help lawyer me up so that we can finish this BS, then go to some clubs or something later. Is that cool with you?" He seemed agitated, and it had been a while since I'd gone out...
I sighed deeply and opened my briefcase. "Yeah, let's get started."
| 2016-02-15T13:26:19 | 2016-02-15T11:43:33 | 60 | 10 |
[WP] Before you are born, every possible version of you is dropped into a Hunger Games style arena to battle to the death. Whichever version lives is allowed to be born.
|
Man, I'm exhausted.
I must've had a pretty rough night 'cause I woke up in this helluva place this mornin'. What's worse is that I can't even remember how I got here.
Now that I mention it, I can't remember much of anythin' before I woke up this mornin'. That's not even the weirdest bit though.
What's really freaking me out is *them*. Or should I say me? I ain't so sure anymore. Not too sure about anythin' really, these days.
All I know is I woke up in the middle of this helluva place and, well, everyone around looked just like me. Now won't y'all just imagine that.
Sure, not everyone's *exactly* like me. I must say I'm a lil' chubbier than the rest. Not quite so fast movin' either, or as smart. But I can tell they're just like me. No questions 'bout it.
I've said it before, but that ain't even the weirdest bit yet. The part that's got me really goin' mad, is that they -- I mean *we* -- are all goin' 'round killin' each other.
Matter o' fact, first thing I saw after I woke up was two o' me goin' after each other with some big ol' chainsaws. Now, don't even get me goin' about where they must'of gotten those 'cause I ain't got a damn clue.
Me though? I'm no killer. I'm telling y'all, I ain't hurtin' anyone. I ain't the sharperest knife in the drawer, and I'm certainly not the most dangerous.
So I've just been lyin' here takin' a nappity nap. Like I said, I'm exhausted from last night. Who knows where I even fell asleep.
The other me's must'of all thought I was dead, 'cause none of 'em tried to kill me. Now there's a bunch o' me just lyin' 'round. You should see the blood. S'gettin' me a lil' woozy.
From what I can tell there's only me and another one o' me left alive. It took me a while to find the other me, too. I had to go trippin' all over the dead me's to get to 'im.
Turns out he was shot by a poison arrow and prob'ly don't got much time left. He's been wimperin' on the floor since I found him, poor thing. He begged me to help him, but trust me, *I ain't becomin' no doctor* or anythin' fancy like that. I couldn't save him if I tried.
Things aren't lookin' too good for the other me, so I think I'm gonna catch myself another nappy nap. Hopefully by the time I wake up I'll be able to find my way outta this helluva place...
|
My fingers clasped onto the hot, rocky edge of the peak. The snoring caught my attention while I was searching for Deborah Kay, the last remaining survivor of the Self Trials.
I took another step on the rock, and pulled myself up higher with the help of my fingers. A spiral of hanging cans surrounded her, held up by tall branches and fastened by string. There would be very little space for me to move once I got up here. If I took a single step, my thigh would touch the string and alert her.
The blue bags under her eyes were visible even as the shadow of a tree covered her. We’d been at it for days, both exhausted, but unlike her, I persevered. And because of that my victory loomed.
My nose was in line with the string when I made my way up. I didn’t rise, but instead stayed in a crouch, gripped my dagger, and held it up with a cheeky smile. I wanted this version of me to win desperately. She was smart and cunning, best of all fearless. My back was turned on a high mountain and I didn’t squirm, and felt nothing once my foot crackled the rocks and slid down just a tad.
Absently my finger rose up to my nose, and entered the hole, digging for gold. I took it out, goo in tow and just as my lips opened to take it in, I came too. My eyes widened and looked down at the finger in shock. *No. It can’t be…*
I gripped the string that held the cans together and shook it. Deborah stirred, but did not move. This part was never pleasant, but it had to be done. I stood, and deliberately let my foot catch the string, and fell.
Deborah turned, and rolled out of the way, making the ground catch my fall. Still, she did not reach for a weapon.
“Oh, what the hell, Deb?” I complained, chucked the dagger off the cliff and watched it disappear downward. “You’ve been after me for a week.”
Deborah shrugged. “Bed wetter,” she said, and pointed down to a moist circle on her pants.
“Yeah, mine’s not great either.” I sighed, and stood back up. “Well, see you in the next one, I guess.”
“Yeah, great,” she said, with and expression that suggested she meant otherwise.
I wasn’t exactly excited about going against her again either. She’d cost me two great versions of myself and I was getting tired of all the killing and surviving we had to do.
“Hey Sammy,” she said, catching me just before I took a step down the hill.
I stopped and turned. Her nose was directly in line with mine, I don’t know when she had the time to come closer, but I felt her breath blow against my face.
“Change your mind?” I narrowed my eyes.
She grabbed my hand and shoved a knife inside it. Before I could figure out what was happening, she pulled my hand forward, and hot liquid spilled over my fingers.
“No!”
*****
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG! :)
| 2016-04-20T11:23:33 | 2016-04-20T10:48:30 | 221 | 25 |
[WP] All your friends have superpowers while you don't, They all pity you but you love being normal, They don't seem to be getting the message.
|
"Come on, we can try it again", shouted Jack while he held my car on his left hand and a beer on the right.
"No, man, I've told you, I'm not interested", I replied, mildly annoyed and unsatisfied with the whole not-being-able-to-get-into-my-car situation.
"Dude, you've got to try again, it makes no sense that you can't do it - try it and, whatever happens, I'll give you your car back".
I agreed with amidst sighs and complaints, "You realise I'm never coming to visit again, right?". I gathered all my energy as I squatted down. Inhale, Exhale, Inhale, Exhale, Inhale and... jump! 15 inches or so was the height this time.
"Not bad! Can I have my car back, please?"
"Oh, come on! This makes no sense at all! I mean, we all got something! Jane can go through things, Matt can teach himself anything in no time, even Robbie got that weird looking arm... thing. This is really unfair, man"
"Dude, I've told you, I don't care. It's been a year already and, well, I've got to admit that I was a bit pissed at first, but you know what? What really is unfair is that you can't come back to how you were."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know, back to being... normal"
"I'm not buying this, you're in denial. This is the best that could happen to anyone, I can lift anything, man!", he said as he finally let my car down on the ground.
"Ok, you can lift stuff... what have you been using that superpower for?", I asked, as I reached for the door and sat on the driver's seat.
"Uh... well, superhero stuff, you know! Like, saving people and all that"
"And that's what you wanted to do with your life? Become a superhero?"
"Well, no, but this is what I've got now. I have to use it somehow. People know I can do this kind of stuff, it would be selfish not to use it for good"
"Ok, that's exactly my point! Your life is no longer yours, there's higher expectations, you have to serve, you must give your power, your life, to the community, all because of this freak accident. You have a power beyond your incredible strength, you have the power to help others, to save others and to protect them, you could inflict great pain but you've chosen not too. But that's as far as your choices go, if you'd choose not to use your power for good, then you're selfish, you'd be shunned and booed wherever you go, you'd have to explain why you chose not to act the hero part when that's all that was expected from you. I don't want that kind of life. Anonymity, nobody expects anything from me. I'm free to do whatever I want, and that is my superpower".
|
The world is a strange place from this side of the fence. Nobody prepares you for being an outcast, because deep down nobody else will admit its been an experience they have encountered. We all have varying superpowers when born, it was hardly my fault that a genetic issue somewhere between conception and birth in the womb had left me simply with the ability move objects with my mind - and in the scheme of things it had become quite handy. But in a world where most people were flying to work, reading peoples minds, resisting fire and becoming invisible at will - I was the runt of the litter.
It was a long and lonely summers night at the Christian camp when I had felt the a rise in pressure and a thump from behind me whilst drinking my tea before bed. the campfire had long since been extinguished by Ruth, the groups more responsible leader. I liked her stripy woollen jumpers. I liked to work out if they were self knitted or bought.
Looking around, the snow was lit green like an abandoned glowstick. A quick check around me made me realise that perhaps this was not another bullying attempt, another dig in the ribs, another push backwards from a seat. I was used to those. I spent all of my time outside usually in anticipation of such a thing. Once in the dining hall at school I actually saw stars when I banged by head, i didnt think it was actually possible. This time, I was truly alone.
I lazily turned on the log I was perched on, a glow emitting from a two-foot deep circular hole in the snow, just the right diameter to fit my skinny gloved hand down. What happened then is only something I pieced together with the help of Fram, my Hypnot 'friend' I made online.
The furore that followed was something I had not prepared for, nor am I sure how I would. The doctors told their colleagues, their colleagues told their friends in the press. Hypno and Psycosi specialists detected the change but made no sense of it; that disturbance. Migro and Agro specialists could detect the change in the Gravity waves around Kettleness camp, apparently. A small, disused railway station deep in the heart of East England coast became controlled by local authorities and Cobra was called to meeting. All because of me. What was the cause of my affliction? Why was I chosen? By whom? An uninspiring kid just going onto a disappointing and depressing period of my life in Secondary School filled with yet more people I despised through proxy. It didn't make sense.
The News was the biggest problem, the reporters came next. Mags, Phycosi, Bombarders, Collaborators, even the goverment Invi's were popping up in strange places to question me. And yet I had no answers. That night in Kettleness had given me a gift. A gift of normality. A boy, with the world at my feet, with no superpowers. Removed, stolen, taken. Would I use my lack of powers for good? to conquer the powers of Evil? My mind could not be read. My whereabouts never detected. My DNA never misaligned. My intentions never clouded. This was the first step on my ladder to where I am now.
Always vigilant.
Always watching.
| 2016-05-03T07:14:15 | 2016-05-03T06:16:09 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Quantum locking lets humans create impervious armor and giant machines the size of skyscrapers. When we finally encounter the rest of the galactic civilization, we realize that we are the only ones that have this technology.
|
They called us El-Reuth'a. What would you guess it to mean? Peering from the portholes of decades-old spacecrafts, glimpsing our black-plated behemoths crawling ever closer, would you think *demons*? Would you think *warriors*? Hovering sky-factories churning out mechanized hunters, sub-atmospheric satellites, silhouetted behind cloud cover, untouchable. What would you call us?
It had been by chance that we ever met the other races. There had only been hints: signs of mined resources. Our ambition, our curiosity, propelled us further into what we now know to be their core planets system. Our foolishness met us with them at an ancient site of worship underground, our pneumatic beasts beating and collapsing it from above, all in the search of simple metals. Before this, we had envisioned ambassadors, great halls with humans entering the pantheon of space-explorers; progress and cooperation. Instead, we had incited war.
It has been almost twelve years. There have been less than a hundred human casualties. There have been an estimated two-hundred thousand casualties on their end. This was within the first year. We could have left it at the level of small skirmishes, seeking only to defend. Instead, we pushed to take everything. They surrendered their cities, their land, their hopes. They fell neatly within our nascent empire. Perhaps they underestimated our doggedness and mettle. I think, though, they underestimated our vanity. Dreams of unity would never have held up in the face of a group of imperialistic space-faring savages.
I am Thane Pylius, a senator of the Lower Council of the Great Earthen Commonwealth. And I am grateful for this time of peace. There is, though, a sense of sadness, of lost cultures and fraternity, that belies it. I've seen the look in their eyes when I pass through their boroughs and towns, the defeat heavy upon their bodies. It wasn't until I spoke to an archaeologist, at that desecrated temple that kindled the war, that I came to understand them, our relation to them.
Do you wish to know what El-Reuth'a means? It does not mean *demon* or *warrior*. It means The River of the Great One—That Which Washes Away Everything. It means The End.
|
They built dreams and the rest of life came to see them rise. The earth was burned and dry by the time the machines were finished and Evan volunteered to be a pilot. The sunlight glinted off the thousands of interlocking beams that built the main body of the machine as it lifted from the ground for the first time. It was glowing silver, a huge sphere with room inside for six thousand people. Accommodation, schools, a hospital and parks: all fitted with long windows that overlooked the destroyed earth. Eight huge legs operated to walk the beast over land, like a delicate spider built large enough to block the sun from a major city. The sphere weighed it down in the middle and the legs bowed.
Evan was one of eight who sat at the very peak of the silver spider, locked into place. They operated the legs: one each. Each had their breath held as the spider took its first step, then its second. The pilots exhaled. A current running through Evan's veins to keep him in his pod, his hands locked tight against the controls, he could not wipe away the sweat that trickled down from his hairline and into his eyes. It stung. As a child, he had cried when told that he could not visit the stars. A telescope came as a birthday present that year, but it was too late. The stars were still too far away.
The Others came on the day the spider left the earth. The spindly silver legs dangled into nothingness as the sphere propelled itself away. Evan, ashamed of himself, closed his eyes as he and his seven fellows looked straight into the void. Terminal velocity reached, time hung. Space was silent. Against the blackness of the sky, the spider drifted, now a squid. The only colour came from the stars: perhaps the six thousand passengers could see the earth as it retreated to the size of a pinprick behind them, but the eight pilots' necks fused into the machinery and they could not look back.
Others surrounded the silver monster. When they fired on it, the spider remained impervious. The six thousand were safe. In the room at the peak of the sphere, eight pilots screamed wordlessly as they suffered for the safety of the ship. Locked in, Evan was unable even to clench his hands in pain. Every vein ran hot. The pilot fused to the pod on his left bit out his own tongue, howling through the horror the attacks wreaked on his body. It was the payment they agreed. Evan was just a boy who had wanted to see the stars.
| 2016-06-25T16:35:23 | 2016-06-25T13:24:56 | 70 | 30 |
[WP] (drops weapon) "Shit. I just realized something." "What?" "We're the bad guys....."
|
"CRAP!"
I dropped my gun and ran to the now lifeless body of the boy I just killed. He appeared to have a punctured lung, and was bleeding out on the floor. I fell to my knees crying, and placed my head on his chest to listen for a heartbeat.
"Oh my god! Your alive!" I exclaimed, " Thank God!"
At this, his eyes opened, and blinked in the harsh sunlight. He spotted the insignia on my chest, the skull on fire, and tried to get up and run. He fell back to the floor and started writhing in agony.
"Let me help you!"
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"'Cause you're a bad guy."
A bad guy. It all made sense. The inhumane experimentation to create the perfect weapon. The battlement which could easily be mistaken for an evil lair.
I was the bad guy.
I couldn't believe it.
I wouldn't believe it.
This boy, who could be no older than 17, was dying.
And I had to help.
I picked up his body from the ground and ran towards the 'enemy' camp. From now on, I had no enemies. I ripped the insignia off my chest and kept going. This boy would make it. *We* would make it.
___
The boy woke up in his bases hospital.
"What day is it?" He asked a passing nurse.
"Day 1372 of war." She replied.
He'd been here for weeks.
"A man came in here with me. What happened to him?"
"He was gunned down by the enemy. I'm so sorry. Was he a friend?"
"No." The boy smiled, tears welling in his eyes. "He was a hero."
|
I set the scythe down. "I think we're the bad guys."
Nina looked up from her book, "Eh?"
"Bad. All of a sudden, I have this feeling in my gut, like maybe we're not doing the world any favors."
"It's the natural way of things, though. There's nothing inherently 'bad' about dying."
"Right! But we both know we were told that when we took on the robes. The whole business about the natural order of the universe."
"What are you saying?"
I looked around, "I don't know. Maybe this whole thing just isn't for me."
"It's a little late to pull that card now. You've got, what, 300-something years left in your contract?"
"Yeah."
"So, even if we were 'bad', whatever that means, you're just going to have to suck it up," she returned to her book. I must have touched a nerve.
I finished my hotdog before continuing, "It's just that," now chewing, "Last week, I had to take a kid. Another one."
"Yeah, that's no fun."
"Well 'no fun' is one way to describe it. 'Unfair' is another way. Kid was good. Didn't do anything wrong."
She shrugged, "It was just his time. It's everyone's time eventually."
"But does it have to be?"
She looked up from her book again, "Look, what do you want from me? We're just doing our jobs."
"We can slough off the responsibility, if that makes us feel better. We can always justify it and say that management ordered us to do it. To take those lives."
She raised her eyebrow, "Go on. To take those lives, where?"
"To the afterlife."
"There you go."
---
/r/afakesoundtrack
| 2016-07-19T22:01:50 | 2016-07-19T21:41:38 | 132 | 24 |
[WP] Grandpa has talked gibberish since an accident in '79. One day, while converting grandma's VHS tapes to digital, you find yourself rewinding some footage. Grandpa comes into frame. You realize you can understand what he's saying and the words terrify you.
|
I understood every word and it terrified me.
No, you need to know. It set my ears on fire and my heart thudding in frenzy. I dropped the remote on the floor when I heard it because for those few seconds I didn’t think it was possible.
Each word added more weight than the last and when I could comprehend the entire sentence, a tear rolled down my cheek. I tried to say something, anything, but nothing would come as my voice jammed up inside my throat. My mind froze and my eyes bulged in their sockets.
Grandma shook me. She hadn’t heard it as well, she couldn’t have.
And when Grandpa stopped by the door. His first response was a squint of confusion and then he made his way toward me. I wanted to tell him what I’d heard, but my hands were shaking too much.
“Dylan, what’s wrong?” he asked with his fingers.
His blue eyes were filled with worry and so I focused on the shiny spot on his head instead. I put all my attention on it, focus on one point, something I’d learned to do when I was afraid.
Grandma shook me again as if to say: please tell us, please oh please. It woke me from the daze.
Reaching for the remote was like pushing my hand through thick mud. I clasped it and pressed the rewind button.
Once again the silence exploded with brilliant noise. It made the insides of my ear drums shake, it made my earlobes prickle with excitement. My eyes lit up with wonder.
I pushed my hands against each other, creating the necessary words.
*I can hear Grandpa’s voice,* I signed.
Grandma clasped her hands over her mouth. Grandpa crumpled to his knees, his tears hit the carpet one after the other.
And me, I just stared at the TV with a smile on my face. Basking in the glory of a miracle.
|
"They'll be back for me". Those were the words that came from the old television set with the VHS dock attached to it. I quickly turned around from the current VHS tape I was converting to digital. Did I just hear words coming from the tape being rewinded, much less from my grandpa who never spoke clearly. I fastforwarded the tape again and rewinded it to hear it again. "Help, they'll be back for me and this time they will be taking back everyone".
My grandpa had never spoken a coherent word since his car had run off the road into the cow pastures in 1979. My grandma had always told me that he was one of the most charming men she had ever known before the accident. This was in stark contrast to the bumbling man I knew that hadn't strung together a understandable sentence for as long as I had lived.
Rewinding it again, I saw the expression in face. Absolute fear. The look in his eyes sent chills down my spine. This man had been trying to communicate this fear for nearly 4 decades to no avail.
I went to my grandpa and brought the old video recorder with the rewind function with me. I asked my grandpa what he meant by "they would come back". He looked, eyes wide open and bulging out of his head. He told me something else in gibberish. I rewinded it. The next thing I remember is being bombarded by light and being ripped off the ground. As this happened, I heard the recorder rewinding. "You shouldn't have done that. GET AWAY. I was trying to tell everyone to get away, but now that you figured out, they know what you know and they will be here soon. They can see everything with what they put in my head". As the recording finished, I went through the bright light and ended on a bed with restraints. These huge humanoid lizards appeared and spoke in the gibberish my grandpa did. I didn't need to rewind it to find what they said. "This one will do fine".
| 2016-10-09T10:30:33 | 2016-10-09T09:11:35 | 262 | 135 |
[WP] When you wake up in the morning you have been transported back in time as your younger self. You keep your current knowledge and skills.
Based on a dream I had a couple of weeks ago. It's been haunting me (in a good way) ever since.
|
"Say, did you hear about EphesosX? The 12 year old child prodigy?"
"Yeah, I heard he passed the SAT at age 6. And started his PhD at 10. Incredible. They say he just sort of knows everything, he devours textbooks so fast i swear he can't even be actually reading them."
"I heard he's a ridiculous finance whiz. Seems to know just the stock to buy at the right time. Though apparently he's gotten suckered into this whole Facebook thing now..."
"Yeah, seems like a nice life, I've heard he just seems down all the time. Wonder what he's thinking about. Must be something of great importance..."
Me: League of Legends doesn't come out for another 3 years.....
|
Awakening under the shine of the stars was an unfamiliar sight, but yet felt so nostalgic. These stars were the glow-in-the-dark ones my Dad stuck for me as a kid. Why were they here? Climbing out of my bed still shaken-up, it took me a little too long to notice how close the floor was. This strange consciousness lingered until it all come clear; when I stumbled into the bathroom, the light came on and the realization hit me, I was again, a 9 year old boy. I was no longer tired and weary, but scared and confused.
While in the bathroom I hear a sound resonate behind me, my old dog, Jenny, wagging her tail, before this strange phenomenon, a few months ago Jenny passed away, seeing her again dropped me to my knees. Teary-eyed and arms enclosed around her, I sobbed, I had my dog back.
| 2016-10-28T22:01:55 | 2016-10-28T19:38:06 | 229 | 55 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
The heart monitor marked the slowing of her heart beats, the beeps getting farther and farther apart each passing minute. The looks from the nurses told me it was only a matter of time until it was all over. I picked absentmindedly at a loose string hanging from the sling holding my arm tight against my body.
I hadn't seen the car coming, because I had been yelling into the back seat at her. I couldn't even remember what I had been yelling about, but it didn't matter right now. She looked so small lying in the hospital bed, her golden curls on the pillow. I wished for a way to take her home, to make her safe again.
The heart monitor beeped out a warning that the nurse quickly shut off. Her eyes fluttered open and my heart leapt with a momentary hope. I wished to apologize, to tell her it was my fault. Her eyes closed again, and my sorrow ballooned once more.
I prayed the way only a broken man can. Nobody was saying anything, we all just waited. The doctor walked in the room silently. Was time starting to run out?
She opened her eyes again. I smiled at her.
It was happening.
Hearts stopped.
Childless.
|
"I can't believe that this is going to be our last few moments together... I can't see myself without you."
He held her hands as he spoke to her for what would be the last time in his life.
"Jason, you know how much it bothers me when you say things with such a sense of... finality."
Emma Karson was a spiritual woman who has never really believed in things coming to an end.
"I knew what I was getting myself into when we got married, but I'm not ready."
"Well, maybe one day you will be ready and accept the truth of our paths."
Jason was neither spiritual or religious, and believing in Emma's convictions were near impossible.
"Commander Karson, three minutes until launch countdown initiates; please return to the shuttle."
The speakers repeated the message once more, and Jason began to cry.
"Emma, I've never loved anyone as much as I've loved you-"
"Jason, I know that this isn't the end," interrupted Emma.
"I will see you again, in this life, or-"
"Commander Karson, two minutes until launch countdown initiates..."
The two embraced each other in tears.
"Remember Jason, our love is eternal."
They share a final kiss.
"How do you know?"
Jason was terrified.
Emma smiles.
"Faith."
| 2017-01-14T14:03:20 | 2017-01-14T13:45:07 | 13,093 | 64 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
The little girl curled up in bed, shaking, her plush pink duvet pulled up so only her eyes peeked over. She had seen a movement over by the closet, where she’d seen the scary crocodile a few hours before. Just imagining the sticky noises he had made when he’d crawled up to the ceiling made her whimper. He had hung there, looking straight down at her face and chuckling with a wide, crooked smile.
She knew that bed was safe, somewhere the monsters couldn’t get you and take you away. But she couldn’t help a indignant feeling swelling inside her chest – he wasn’t allowed here! She decided to scare him away like the brave girl Mummy said she was. Her little legs swung over the bed, and she slid to the floor. She snuck over to the closet door as quickly as she dared. The handle creaked loudly as she reached up and turned it. Pulling to open it, she scrunched her eyes tight shut. She was afraid to see- no, she was brave! She tentatively opened her eyes to a warehouse. A creature with its back to her.
He wasn’t scary like the crocodile. He was big and fluffy. And blue and purple! Her favourite colours. She beamed.
“Kitty!”
|
"I can't believe that this is going to be our last few moments together... I can't see myself without you."
He held her hands as he spoke to her for what would be the last time in his life.
"Jason, you know how much it bothers me when you say things with such a sense of... finality."
Emma Karson was a spiritual woman who has never really believed in things coming to an end.
"I knew what I was getting myself into when we got married, but I'm not ready."
"Well, maybe one day you will be ready and accept the truth of our paths."
Jason was neither spiritual or religious, and believing in Emma's convictions were near impossible.
"Commander Karson, three minutes until launch countdown initiates; please return to the shuttle."
The speakers repeated the message once more, and Jason began to cry.
"Emma, I've never loved anyone as much as I've loved you-"
"Jason, I know that this isn't the end," interrupted Emma.
"I will see you again, in this life, or-"
"Commander Karson, two minutes until launch countdown initiates..."
The two embraced each other in tears.
"Remember Jason, our love is eternal."
They share a final kiss.
"How do you know?"
Jason was terrified.
Emma smiles.
"Faith."
| 2017-01-14T15:27:35 | 2017-01-14T13:45:07 | 977 | 64 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
I still don't know to this day whether we were more confused over the other, or god's sudden, fatal disappearance.
Usually we'd skip church and get stoned in the gutter between the parking lot and the stretch of weeds. We'd drink whatever he could sneak from the cupboards of whoever it was he was staying with that week. More often than not it was spiked lemonade, or some other canned fruity things the mothers downed.
I remember one day in specific when everything bad that could happen, had happened to him. You couldn't tell he was crying, or why, but I knew him better than anyone. I knew there was a bad, burning taste of god in his mouth, then. I knew he was young; I knew he was crushed by the weight.
So we'd go in for praise, then sneak out to worship each other. And we'd cry, and we'd drink, and we'd smoke stale cigarettes.
Soon, we started to skip the praise and service altogether. After all, they do say we are the church. Though I think we were the emptiest kind. We carried the weight of eachother's cross. And nailed eachother on the floor.
Maybe god was really watching. Maybe god was dead. Maybe he forgot. Maybe sleeping.
Maybe.
|
"I can't believe that this is going to be our last few moments together... I can't see myself without you."
He held her hands as he spoke to her for what would be the last time in his life.
"Jason, you know how much it bothers me when you say things with such a sense of... finality."
Emma Karson was a spiritual woman who has never really believed in things coming to an end.
"I knew what I was getting myself into when we got married, but I'm not ready."
"Well, maybe one day you will be ready and accept the truth of our paths."
Jason was neither spiritual or religious, and believing in Emma's convictions were near impossible.
"Commander Karson, three minutes until launch countdown initiates; please return to the shuttle."
The speakers repeated the message once more, and Jason began to cry.
"Emma, I've never loved anyone as much as I've loved you-"
"Jason, I know that this isn't the end," interrupted Emma.
"I will see you again, in this life, or-"
"Commander Karson, two minutes until launch countdown initiates..."
The two embraced each other in tears.
"Remember Jason, our love is eternal."
They share a final kiss.
"How do you know?"
Jason was terrified.
Emma smiles.
"Faith."
| 2017-01-14T15:12:58 | 2017-01-14T13:45:07 | 279 | 64 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
Rachel and Connor hadn't seen each other since 2011, when they parted ways for what they anticipated would be forever.
It was their sophomore year of college, early on in the first semester, though neither of them would graduate.
Connor dropped out immediately, the grief of his fiancée leaving him was too much, and he couldn't focus.
Rachel tried, but going from living with him to living alone got costly; she had to work.
Before the second semester, she dropped out and got a second job.
Running into Connor again brought back a wave of very beautiful, and very painful, memories.
The best were the little excitements, like his sentimental proposal, and their first date.
The worst though were the things she put him through; all the abuse.
She was terrible to him, even though he insisted she was "perfect."
Rachel wasn't perfect; she was an alcoholic, and she was mean.
She would talk down to him when she was drunk.
She would throw dishes and shoes at his face...
He smiled from across the lot and waved.
Then he ran straight over to her.
He gave her a warm hug.
Then suddenly, he was saddened.
"Why did you leave?"
"I loved you."
"You loved--"
"Yeah."
|
The rain ran in rivulets along the window, a barrage of droplets chasing each other downwards in fits and starts. Baxter smiled and turned his head, eager to show the old man, but he was asleep by the fire.
There wasn't really much surprise there, of course; the old man didn't do anything *but* sleep these days. His bark was soft and weak, barely capable of calling the humans in from the next room. The proud black hairs that surrounded his muzzle had dulled to an anaemic grey long ago. When he walked, his back leg dragged behind him; the humans pretended not to notice. Even if he *had* been interested, reaching the window would have been almost impossible.
Baxter pawed the glass, wondering how the rain would feel on his fur. Cool, no doubt -- cool and refreshing, even with the winter's chill. *That would get the old man excited for sure,* Baxter thought. *No time for sleeping when there are puddles to enjoy.*
After one last look outside, he pulled himself away. The puppy crossed over to the old man. With a spin, he lowered himself down.
*In the summer*, Baxter thought happily. *We'll play in the summer. There's plenty of time.*
His eyes drooped.
They slept.
Together.
_____
If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T18:21:32 | 220 | 159 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
Rachel and Connor hadn't seen each other since 2011, when they parted ways for what they anticipated would be forever.
It was their sophomore year of college, early on in the first semester, though neither of them would graduate.
Connor dropped out immediately, the grief of his fiancée leaving him was too much, and he couldn't focus.
Rachel tried, but going from living with him to living alone got costly; she had to work.
Before the second semester, she dropped out and got a second job.
Running into Connor again brought back a wave of very beautiful, and very painful, memories.
The best were the little excitements, like his sentimental proposal, and their first date.
The worst though were the things she put him through; all the abuse.
She was terrible to him, even though he insisted she was "perfect."
Rachel wasn't perfect; she was an alcoholic, and she was mean.
She would talk down to him when she was drunk.
She would throw dishes and shoes at his face...
He smiled from across the lot and waved.
Then he ran straight over to her.
He gave her a warm hug.
Then suddenly, he was saddened.
"Why did you leave?"
"I loved you."
"You loved--"
"Yeah."
|
"Going all the way back to my fifth birthday, I can remember the immense pain I carried in my heart."
"I understand how much you're hurting Jon, but I promise this isn't the solution to your pain and sadness!"
"You will never understand what's inside of me, or why I know that this is my only choice!"
"Why don't you just put down the gun and we can have a rational conversation about this.."
"A million rational conversations will not change the things I've done and the options I have."
"I promise you, with all my heart, that you have so many more options here."
"I'm just so tired of trying to make sense of a pointless, meaningless life."
"Just give me the gun and we can figure this all out together!"
"You come one step closer and I promise I'll pull the trigger!"
"You can't just end things and leave me like this, Jon!"
"It's too late for me to turn back now, Kate."
"God dammit, you put the gun down right now!"
"I'm giving up, and maybe you should too."
"I'm begging you not to do this!"
"I love you and I'm sorry."
"Oh god no, please stop!"
"Promise me one thing?"
"Yes, Jon, anything!"
"Keep smiling.."
"Jon!"
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T18:59:37 | 220 | 100 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
Rachel and Connor hadn't seen each other since 2011, when they parted ways for what they anticipated would be forever.
It was their sophomore year of college, early on in the first semester, though neither of them would graduate.
Connor dropped out immediately, the grief of his fiancée leaving him was too much, and he couldn't focus.
Rachel tried, but going from living with him to living alone got costly; she had to work.
Before the second semester, she dropped out and got a second job.
Running into Connor again brought back a wave of very beautiful, and very painful, memories.
The best were the little excitements, like his sentimental proposal, and their first date.
The worst though were the things she put him through; all the abuse.
She was terrible to him, even though he insisted she was "perfect."
Rachel wasn't perfect; she was an alcoholic, and she was mean.
She would talk down to him when she was drunk.
She would throw dishes and shoes at his face...
He smiled from across the lot and waved.
Then he ran straight over to her.
He gave her a warm hug.
Then suddenly, he was saddened.
"Why did you leave?"
"I loved you."
"You loved--"
"Yeah."
|
"I can't believe that this is going to be our last few moments together... I can't see myself without you."
He held her hands as he spoke to her for what would be the last time in his life.
"Jason, you know how much it bothers me when you say things with such a sense of... finality."
Emma Karson was a spiritual woman who has never really believed in things coming to an end.
"I knew what I was getting myself into when we got married, but I'm not ready."
"Well, maybe one day you will be ready and accept the truth of our paths."
Jason was neither spiritual or religious, and believing in Emma's convictions were near impossible.
"Commander Karson, three minutes until launch countdown initiates; please return to the shuttle."
The speakers repeated the message once more, and Jason began to cry.
"Emma, I've never loved anyone as much as I've loved you-"
"Jason, I know that this isn't the end," interrupted Emma.
"I will see you again, in this life, or-"
"Commander Karson, two minutes until launch countdown initiates..."
The two embraced each other in tears.
"Remember Jason, our love is eternal."
They share a final kiss.
"How do you know?"
Jason was terrified.
Emma smiles.
"Faith."
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T13:45:07 | 220 | 64 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.