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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 14:34:19
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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int64 14
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[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."
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 220 | 13 |
[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
|
"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!"
|
"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."
| 2017-01-14T18:59:37 | 2017-01-14T13:45:07 | 100 | 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
|
"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!"
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T18:59:37 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 100 | 13 |
[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
|
Slowly I pull into the driveway, noticing that there is an extra car in the spot where I usually park.
“Who is this,” I wonder, hoping that our friend Dave had stopped by in his travels through the area.
As I walk quietly through the door, a trail of clothing greets me, and the sounds of pleasure.
I enter the hallway, terrified of what I was about to see but desperately hoping not to.
Tears stream down my face as I cross the living room, God I can smell them!
My heartbeat racing in my chest, I feel alive and violent; They will both pay.
First to the gun cabinet I sneak, unlocking and grabbing my trusty, loaded weapon.
My mind is racing, remembering our vows, till her death we will part.
Cocking weapon, I again cross the room, my cheeks flushed with rage.
Countless steps I climb, fear and turmoil grip me harder yet.
Is this right, or have I made the wrong choice?
Almost there, chest is burning, aching with this burden.
Pushing the door open reveals the bitter truth.
My wife and her lover, embracing, naked.
I pull the gun and shoot.
Oh, what have I done?
Is that my son?
His arms, broken.
Both dead.
Fuck.
|
I couldn't even remember the last time that the office had decided to give me some time off for vacation. Yet here I was, last day in my cubicle, my monitor blinking out and my computer's processor going quiet. I didn't bother to wave goodbye to any of my coworkers as I practically skipped out the door. In all likelihood, they probably didn't even know my name; no way would they actually miss me.
I jumped in my car and raced the other vehicles down the freeway, nearly hitting some. When I screeched to a stop in the driveway, I leaped out the driver-side door. Into the door I burst, calling out "Honey! Pack the bags! It's Fiji time!" Only silence greeted my enthusiasm, but at first I paid it no mind. As I visited each room, though, an alarm sounded in my head. Her books were gone, her clothes were missing...and so was she.
Sitting on our bed was a folded and wrinkled letter. Before I knew it, it was in my hands.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you. But you wouldn't have heard me otherwise. I've grown tired of being second. Your work always came first. Your career killed us."
Paper fluttered down. Broken sobs. Rekt.
| 2017-01-14T21:07:16 | 2017-01-14T17:14:12 | 49 | 21 |
[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
|
Slowly I pull into the driveway, noticing that there is an extra car in the spot where I usually park.
“Who is this,” I wonder, hoping that our friend Dave had stopped by in his travels through the area.
As I walk quietly through the door, a trail of clothing greets me, and the sounds of pleasure.
I enter the hallway, terrified of what I was about to see but desperately hoping not to.
Tears stream down my face as I cross the living room, God I can smell them!
My heartbeat racing in my chest, I feel alive and violent; They will both pay.
First to the gun cabinet I sneak, unlocking and grabbing my trusty, loaded weapon.
My mind is racing, remembering our vows, till her death we will part.
Cocking weapon, I again cross the room, my cheeks flushed with rage.
Countless steps I climb, fear and turmoil grip me harder yet.
Is this right, or have I made the wrong choice?
Almost there, chest is burning, aching with this burden.
Pushing the door open reveals the bitter truth.
My wife and her lover, embracing, naked.
I pull the gun and shoot.
Oh, what have I done?
Is that my son?
His arms, broken.
Both dead.
Fuck.
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T21:07:16 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 49 | 13 |
[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 told her that I’d painted her a sky the way she always wanted to see it, blues and pinks. Like a sunset, I said, but I didn’t really mean it, I meant like how I remembered our mornings. With the sun blushing her skin as soon as I opened the curtains to let in the day. She said she loved it and I’ve been trying to take compliments more readily so she’d smile.
And she smiled and she kissed me and the day looked less like clouds and hail. She could do that, turn the rain clouds and hail into delicate threads of sunshine. Which I’d roll into balls of yarn in the colours rainbows seemed to bleed. It was an operation that required me to close my eyes and smile.
My fingers knew the work well though, short practice with intense concentration. Tongue dragging the corners of mouth where I’d always thought best. Fingers combing through to pick only the best threads, absentminded. The way that I work best, with some participation.
I could feel the colours pierce my skin. Each hue drawing different blood to surface. I routinely scraped my skin clean. Completing the ritual for her.
I’d paint the sky.
Blue and pink.
For her.
Again.
|
I couldn't even remember the last time that the office had decided to give me some time off for vacation. Yet here I was, last day in my cubicle, my monitor blinking out and my computer's processor going quiet. I didn't bother to wave goodbye to any of my coworkers as I practically skipped out the door. In all likelihood, they probably didn't even know my name; no way would they actually miss me.
I jumped in my car and raced the other vehicles down the freeway, nearly hitting some. When I screeched to a stop in the driveway, I leaped out the driver-side door. Into the door I burst, calling out "Honey! Pack the bags! It's Fiji time!" Only silence greeted my enthusiasm, but at first I paid it no mind. As I visited each room, though, an alarm sounded in my head. Her books were gone, her clothes were missing...and so was she.
Sitting on our bed was a folded and wrinkled letter. Before I knew it, it was in my hands.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you. But you wouldn't have heard me otherwise. I've grown tired of being second. Your work always came first. Your career killed us."
Paper fluttered down. Broken sobs. Rekt.
| 2017-01-14T18:51:56 | 2017-01-14T17:14:12 | 35 | 21 |
[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 told her that I’d painted her a sky the way she always wanted to see it, blues and pinks. Like a sunset, I said, but I didn’t really mean it, I meant like how I remembered our mornings. With the sun blushing her skin as soon as I opened the curtains to let in the day. She said she loved it and I’ve been trying to take compliments more readily so she’d smile.
And she smiled and she kissed me and the day looked less like clouds and hail. She could do that, turn the rain clouds and hail into delicate threads of sunshine. Which I’d roll into balls of yarn in the colours rainbows seemed to bleed. It was an operation that required me to close my eyes and smile.
My fingers knew the work well though, short practice with intense concentration. Tongue dragging the corners of mouth where I’d always thought best. Fingers combing through to pick only the best threads, absentminded. The way that I work best, with some participation.
I could feel the colours pierce my skin. Each hue drawing different blood to surface. I routinely scraped my skin clean. Completing the ritual for her.
I’d paint the sky.
Blue and pink.
For her.
Again.
|
"Look out for that tree, you're gonna have one of our heads off in a minute if you're not careful."
I didn't slow down, despite John's protests we had to take the risk and ride fast through the forest. The job had been easy, too easy now that I look back; sleepy guards, compliant staff, calm bystanders.
"One last job," he'd said when we met over a drink at the miners reunion over summer. It had been such a tempting haul in a great location with lots of escape routes. That should have been my first warning, it was simply too good to be true. John was so eager and his enthusiasm rubbed onto me, so I got involved. There was a time I would have seen it, but I've grown rusty.
"We have to ditch the bike and go on foot," John shouted.
I steered into a clump of bushes and cut the engine.
"Please put your hands on your head and lay down."
John had dismounted silently and picked up my bag. The sound of the police bikes grew louder.
"You were undercover for all those years?" I almost choked on the words.
"I tried to stop this."
"You fucked up then."
"Yes I did."
"What now?"
"Run."
| 2017-01-14T18:51:56 | 2017-01-14T16:42:22 | 35 | 20 |
[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 told her that I’d painted her a sky the way she always wanted to see it, blues and pinks. Like a sunset, I said, but I didn’t really mean it, I meant like how I remembered our mornings. With the sun blushing her skin as soon as I opened the curtains to let in the day. She said she loved it and I’ve been trying to take compliments more readily so she’d smile.
And she smiled and she kissed me and the day looked less like clouds and hail. She could do that, turn the rain clouds and hail into delicate threads of sunshine. Which I’d roll into balls of yarn in the colours rainbows seemed to bleed. It was an operation that required me to close my eyes and smile.
My fingers knew the work well though, short practice with intense concentration. Tongue dragging the corners of mouth where I’d always thought best. Fingers combing through to pick only the best threads, absentminded. The way that I work best, with some participation.
I could feel the colours pierce my skin. Each hue drawing different blood to surface. I routinely scraped my skin clean. Completing the ritual for her.
I’d paint the sky.
Blue and pink.
For her.
Again.
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T18:51:56 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 35 | 13 |
[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 ringing in his ears drown out the sound of mayhem as he lay motionless beneath the pile of rubble.
His vision was altered and he couldn’t feel either of his legs, but he tried to assess his situation.
The smoke and dust floated ominously through the air as he searched desperately for anyone to help him.
His hearing began to normalize and he could hear the screams of pain and hysteria around him.
The realization of what had happened began to seep slowly into the front of his mind.
He recognized the man to his left despite the fact that he was badly mutilated.
His leg was blown off at the knee and his face was badly burned.
“Jimmy, you gotta try to get us help man, my legs are stuck.
Wake the fuck up man you can’t fucking go out like this.”
He prayed that he would respond but Jimmy lay silently frozen.
They had survived two tours together in the fucking desert.
They had just crossed the god damn finish line.
Tears began to flow from his clouded eyes.
He knew that his friend was gone.
It was just a stupid bet.
“You can’t run twenty-six miles.”
“Neither can you, fucker.”
They were wrong.
Marathon finishers.
Boston.
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T23:28:51 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 24 | 13 |
[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 couldn't even remember the last time that the office had decided to give me some time off for vacation. Yet here I was, last day in my cubicle, my monitor blinking out and my computer's processor going quiet. I didn't bother to wave goodbye to any of my coworkers as I practically skipped out the door. In all likelihood, they probably didn't even know my name; no way would they actually miss me.
I jumped in my car and raced the other vehicles down the freeway, nearly hitting some. When I screeched to a stop in the driveway, I leaped out the driver-side door. Into the door I burst, calling out "Honey! Pack the bags! It's Fiji time!" Only silence greeted my enthusiasm, but at first I paid it no mind. As I visited each room, though, an alarm sounded in my head. Her books were gone, her clothes were missing...and so was she.
Sitting on our bed was a folded and wrinkled letter. Before I knew it, it was in my hands.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you. But you wouldn't have heard me otherwise. I've grown tired of being second. Your work always came first. Your career killed us."
Paper fluttered down. Broken sobs. Rekt.
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T17:14:12 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 21 | 13 |
[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
|
"Look out for that tree, you're gonna have one of our heads off in a minute if you're not careful."
I didn't slow down, despite John's protests we had to take the risk and ride fast through the forest. The job had been easy, too easy now that I look back; sleepy guards, compliant staff, calm bystanders.
"One last job," he'd said when we met over a drink at the miners reunion over summer. It had been such a tempting haul in a great location with lots of escape routes. That should have been my first warning, it was simply too good to be true. John was so eager and his enthusiasm rubbed onto me, so I got involved. There was a time I would have seen it, but I've grown rusty.
"We have to ditch the bike and go on foot," John shouted.
I steered into a clump of bushes and cut the engine.
"Please put your hands on your head and lay down."
John had dismounted silently and picked up my bag. The sound of the police bikes grew louder.
"You were undercover for all those years?" I almost choked on the words.
"I tried to stop this."
"You fucked up then."
"Yes I did."
"What now?"
"Run."
|
"This event has been a completely unprecedented deviation from the admirably consistent efficacy of this institution's past," said Administrator Yu. She was a middle-aged woman who looked fifty, but she was tall, blocking out a large chunk of stars. As Administrator of the Ring Corporation, she wore the golden epaulettes of seniority over her crisp white uniform. She was, undeniably, the most imposing figure in that room, and now, her words held cold disappointment.
"This honourable institution has worked tirelessly, without incident and without delay for thirty-odd earth-years," she lied. There had been some incidents, but no one had ever dared to make them public. "However, I hear that work has stopped and that the rings are spinning away. Who, might I ask, can tell me why the miners have stopped working?"
Bravely, an older gentleman in a grey coordinator's uniform cleared his throat. "At noon, yesterday, we received an incomplete transmission from the rings. No further signals came whatsoever, suggesting the miners had stopped."
"You say that someone at Saturn stopped the miners?" No one added the disconcerting thought, 'or something'.
On cue, lights flickered across the station. Red emergency signals turned themselves on.
*Alone in orbit,* thought Yu.
Shadows across the stars.
Fear through spines.
*The End.*
*Run.*
| 2017-01-14T16:42:22 | 2017-01-14T15:54:43 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] While sitting in class during a boring lecture you suddenly hear someone whispering in your ear. You turn around nervously and see that no one was there and none of the other students heard. But your teacher drops her notes and stares at you in shock.
|
A couple of the other kids laughed sparingly at Mrs. Brocht's clumsiness, but the way she just kind of stared at me as she sorted her notes seemed too coincidental. Her composure slid icily into place almost a second later, but there was no doubt that she had also heard the voice. Maybe I was dreaming.
Class resumed as normal, but the hair on my arms and the back of my neck never seemed to lay flat and the goosebumps never seemed to fade. The voice had whispered for help. Not a whisper, more like someone calling over a great distance, barely heard. A ghost maybe? A spectre with evil intent?
I failed to focus through the hour, but Mrs. Brocht studiously ignored me. When the bell rang, my teacher approached as I slowly gathered my books and utensils into my bag and prepared to leave, glancing towards the bookshelf in the back of the room repeatedly. A slightly pulling sensation urged my toward the center of the shelving.
"Mr. Query, your world is about to change, drastically." I jumped as Mrs. Brocht spoke, startled out of my daydreams.
"Have I done something wrong, Mrs. Brocht?" She was my most strict teacher, and constantly complained that I hadn't yet reached my potential.
"Not at all, my boy, not at all. Apparently, you have done something all too right. You heard the call didn't you?" Mrs. Brocht was being strange. She looked at me with shining eyes, as if...Proud?
"That voice? Asking for help? Did you hear it too, Mrs. Brocht?" Her pride turned to nervousness at my words.
"Asking for help? They've never asked for help before. Usually they offer you enlightenment or power or glory. Quickly now, we must open the book." Mrs. Brocht ushered me to exactly the place the tractor like pull had originated.
The history of Acyeth. A nine hundred and something page fantasy book about a blacksmith and his rise to being a general. What could this book have to do with anything.
" This book is a portal, Collin, to Acyeth. Every decade or so they offer some reward to bring someone from our world to theirs. They learn of our technology and philosophy from those children. Some of the children return, this book was actually written by the first, some stay to live out a life of magic and might." It had all become clear to me, as if a deep fog was finally lifted from my mind- Mrs. Brocht had gone insane in an instant.
"Listen, Mrs. Brocht, I have biology next and Mr. Vera is super strict, I'm already late and he is gonna be so mad at me...Can I go now?" Mrs. Brocht smiled knowingly and pushed the book into my hands.
"They need you Colin, I don't know what you can offer them, but they need you. Take the book. If you grow curious, or doubtful, open the book. You never know what other worlds are out there waiting for you. I'll write you a hallpass- just tell Dave that I needed help with carrying something after class." She ushered me out of the classroom, a hallpass in one hand and a huge book in the other.
I stood outside the door for a moment. Confused, maybe a little worried. The bell rang loudly throughout the hall, I was late and Mr. Vera, Dave, would be mad even with a hallpass. What a weird day.
The rest of the school day proceeded as normal, no whispers from books or crazy teachers to freak me out. On my way to the bus, Mrs. Brocht stopped as she was fucking( meant to be ducking, but auto correct XD) into her car, our eyes met and she smiled. Maybe I was dreaming.
In rural Michigan, the bus rides home could exceed the duration of an hour. I wasn't a kid that hated to read, and I always liked fantasy anyway. Sometimes I would lay and daydream about vanquishing orcs and wielding magic and axes to change the world. I thought, ' what could hurt about reading a new book', maybe I had heard of the author.
The writer wasn't posted on the cover, so I opened to the title page. The history of Acyeth. Several spaces down was printed the author's name, Sally Brocht. Just then, the words began to glow pink.
Edit: this is the best reaction I've ever had for anything ever. Thanks for the upvotes guys, you're great. More of the story has been continued, in several parts, throughout the replies. Thanks for reading.
Edit2: For those interested, I just created my own subreddit r/Deadpoetic12, to which I will be linking all of my r/writingprompts responses and such, once I figure out how to
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"and Odin the ruler of the Aesir was to be devoured by Fenrir" i never pay attention to these stupid lectures on mythology its not like its important it's all just ancient bullshit stories.
"its not bullshit, i love Mythology" I heard a familiar voice, dark and cold like ice cracking whisper into my ear a cold chill running down my arms and through my spine, i had thought i was free of HIS influence. i looked over to where the voice came from and saw noone there accept, Miss Erikson who had dropped her books and bent down to pick them up, frozen with a look of pure shock and horror on her face, she quickly yelled "class dismissed everyone go to your other classes accept you Jackson, "I DONT TRUST HER" the icy voice spoke again with a hint of disdain in its voice.
Miss Erikson had taken her seat behind the desk and was studying me with a look of horror still on her face.
"Jackson I need to ask you a question and I need the truth, I'm asking from a place of concern" she paused a few moments taking off her thick black glasses and rubbing her forehead
"Do you hear voices"
"SAY NOTHING" the chilling voice commanded
"No miss I don't hear any voices in my head I'm not crazy"
"Not in your head, do you ever feel a chill and then hear a voice?" She asked looking me straight in the eyes with the determination of a charging rhino
"You can see him can't you"
"SAY NOTHING JACKSON SHE CANT HELP YOU"
"How long has it been following you"
"Around 2 months ago I started discovering strange things and it clung to me"
"What strange things Jackson?"
"SHE WILL USE YOU"
"Other worlds Places things like you describe in your mythology, a world of snow, a golden mountaintop palace,a quiet Japanese garden that went on forever and had books that flew around above your head, but no matter what there aren't any bullshit gods"
"The first thing I saw was this snake like thing and now it's fucking haunting me!"
"HAUNTING MORE LIKE FOLLOWING WITH INTEREST" it said flashing it's snake like form around my neck
"Language!," miss Erikson said not missing a chance to remind me she is a teacher
"Has it always been a snake Jackson" she said returning to her calmness as if I didn't just tell her I have seen literal other worlds
"It started small and wormlike following me unable to talk making hissing noises it's grown bigger since I first found it"
"You seem to unconcerned that I have seen other world do you know what it is what it is I can do and why"
"SILENCE JACKSON THE WHORE KNOWS ONLY LIES AND DECEIT SHE WILL USE YOU AND LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD"
"I WILL EXPLAIN ALL IN DUE TIME YOUR NOT READY" "I AM YOUR GUIDE!"
"It depends have you seen these other worlds only while asleep or have you been there while awake, have you ever felt them"
"Mostly while asleep but one morning when I got out of the shower I slipped and fell in snow I felt the chill the biting icy cold I heard the wind but when I got up it was gone it was the bathroom again"
At that she stared intently at me again "do you know what astral projection is Jackson?"
"Out of body experience?"
"Yes some people travel to other worlds that way but you travel there in person your what they call a Realmwalker"
"FOOL NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR TRUE WORTH"
"And this" she reached under her desk and pulled out a large book bound in leather with an unreadable cover
She flicked through it for five minutes before showing me a page. It had the image of a large snake coiling around a man but the writing above it written boldly, neatly and trimmed in gold said "Raven"
The other page said: "the raven is a trickster since the dawn of all worlds it often takes the form of a snake naming itself as a guide to unwary realmwalkers following them in a spectral icy snakelike form whispering lies and truth into his ear until the realmwalker no longer knows reality from fiction"
"Is what is plaguing you Jackson we can remove it but you must trust me"
"Is a ritual preformed in Scandinavia where I was born by the volva to invoke the very real very powerful gods"
"If that doesn't work" she said slowly reaching under her desk "we can try" she said slowly raising a knife "a Greek ritual to unbind certain "things" from people"
"DONT TRUST HER JACKSON THE WHORE WANTS YOUR GIFT SHE WILL SLAUGHTER YOU LIKE A LAMB YOU MUST RUN NOW AND DONT TURN BACK CHANGE REALMS IF YOU MUST"
...so this crappy thing took all afternoon to write if people like it I will write more tomorrow if not please leave a comment telling me what you didn't like .constructive criticism is always welcome
| 2017-01-14T19:31:42 | 2017-01-14T18:54:41 | 657 | 12 |
[WP] Everyday of your adult life you have packed a peanut butter sandwich for work and everyday at lunchtime something entirely different has come out of your sack. Today you finally learn why.
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Jim was at the photocopier when heard it. “That DOES it”, someone screamed in the breakroom. “This is the last straw!” Several people came running out.
Being a dimwitted man, Jim was drawn to the chaos. He pushed his way past his fleeing coworkers and entered the breakroom. There was Tina, cowering in the corner. There was the janitor (Something with an S… Steve?) with both hands up, palm outwards. And there was John, wielding three plastic knives, the veins on his neck bulging reddishly.
“How’s it going, John?” Asked Jim.
“It’s going fine, Jim.” John replied. Then his face contorted. “Wait, no it isn’t, because SOMEONE STOLE MY LUNCH, AND THEY’VE BEEN DOING IT FOR 10 YEARS!” He screeched.
He held up his lunchbag with his other hand. “Today my wife packed me a turkey club with chocolate cake. It was my favourite. THEN SOME ASSHOLE ATE IT AND PUT A PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH IN.” He panted.
Security guards entered the room behind Jim. John looked relieved. “Finally! There’s a goddamn thief somewhere!” The guards tackled John, and dragged him away.
Jim returned to his desk and ate his magic turkey club sandwich.
*I wonder why John had my lunchbag*, thought Jim.
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"Stop right there" I found myself release the words in a half shout, somewhat unsure if the shadowy figure in the unlit kitchen was actually messing with my lunch.
The room seemed to freeze for a while, neither myself or the figure moved. A dropped pin would have have been the equivalent of a nuclear explosion.
I slowly gestured to the light switch, and the figure appeared to nod. As I was closer to the switch, I began to inch towards it.
I barely stole a glance of the figure as it bolted past me out of the room. This was not the end of the story however, as I found a curious note awaiting on my desk.
The words in the note instantly changed my mood, and I stood. I walked through the office towards the person that had signed the note.
She noticed me approaching almost immediately and stood, awaiting a barrage of complaints. As she tried to compose herself tears began to well up in her eyes.
Face to face, mere steps away, I raised my arms slowly and wrapped them around her in a warm embrace.
"I'm so sorry for the lunches. I wanted to come forward and tell you, but I was afraid you wouldn't like me.
-Lucy, Accounting" were the words of the note.
"How about we get dinner together?" I smiled to the now crying woman.
"Of course" she uttered through her tears, her face now forming a gentle smile.
"That's better" I remarked "You are much more beautiful when you smile".
| 2017-03-15T11:29:06 | 2017-03-15T10:49:12 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] Star Wars is a true story. An alien comes to Earth to make first contact with our newly discovered species, only to discover we know more about their universe's history than they do.
EDIT: Whoah, this sorta blew up! Thanks for all the stories guys! I've read all of them and each made me laugh or legitimately think for a moment about the ramifications of an alien species having your future on blue ray. Keep up the awesome work!
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The little interceptor - a dart-shaped fighter encompassed by a hyperdrive ring - dropped out of hyperspace silently but suddenly, coming into perfect orbit with the blue and green planet. The lone pilot looked out at the world below him. "There it is R4," he said to his integrated droid copilot, "Right where it should be. Our missing planet; Earth." He guided his ship to detach from its hyperdrive ring and blasted the engines, hurtling toward the atmosphere.
At once, the radio chirped to life, and another voice came through the com system. "UFO please identify yourself. Over."
The pilot hesitated to respond. He was well aware of the Earthlings, as secretive as they were, only because of a friend with unique knowledge on this sector. His friend's advice came echoing back to him now. *These Earthlings, they like to keep to themselves. Always on edge. How well they treat you... depends... on how good your manners are. How big your eh... pocketbook is.* He had followed this insight with a sinister chuckle and a wide grin, but didn't explain further. Now the pilot was wishing he had pressed for more.
"Repeat," the radio crackled again, "UFO please identify yourself. Over."
The pilot tapped a button on his dashboard. "Call-sign Republic One, representative of the Jedi Council, requesting clearance for landing."
A pause. "Republic One, direct your ship to the coordinates we are patching through to you now. Over and out."
Sure enough, at that moment a set of global positioning coordinates appeared on the center screen in the interceptor's control panel.
___
The ship had landed on an strip of concrete near a half-cylindrical hangar in the middle of a vast, barren expanse of red sand and rocks. The sun was setting, casting red and violet streamers across the sky which pierced the clouds like so many cosmic spears. Although he felt the urge to abscond and quietly explore his surroundings, the pilot did not want to seem presumptuous, and so he stayed in his cockpit, waiting to be addressed further. There was no telling what may set off the locals and, after all, he was advised to be polite.
Shortly, a smartly dressed woman came running at a half-gait out of the hangar and, arriving at the ship, motioned for the pilot to come with her. He opened the cockpit, its glass cover swinging upwards slowly, and climbed out.
"Master Jedi!" The young woman said, enthused yet maintaining an air of professionalism. "The President is expecting you."
*They're prophets,* his friend had claimed. *Damn good ones, too.* Nevertheless, he still had his doubts, and felt an urge to ask. "I'm expected?"
"Of course! He's anxious to meet you." She gently took him by the lower arm, leading the Jedi pilot toward the hangar. "After all these years, we were beginning to think you weren't coming!"
___
She had taken him underground, into a complex beneath the runway, guiding the Jedi into a conference room. The style and sophistication of the tunnels betrayed their humble exterior, and he felt almost at home in these surroundings. The conference room, like the rest of the facility, was awash with white and neutral beiges, illuminated dimly from mysterious, unseen sources. It seemed carefully designed so that nothing could offend the senses or distract from the people in the room. A man, as well dressed as the female guide, sat at the opposite end of the table. He stood.
The Jedi's escort motioned at the man. "May I present Donald Trump, President of the United States." She then turned to the Jedi, "And this is Master Jedi... uh,"
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," the Jedi quickly introduced himself to save her from embarrassment.
The man approached, gripping Obi-Wan's hand and pulling him in aggressively. "I hope you enjoy your stay. But let's get to business first." He took a seat on one of the long-ends of the table, and Obi-Wan did so as well directly across from him. "I'm happy to tell you, very happy, that we are under budget and ahead of schedule. Eight films are ready, and dozens more on the way. Hundreds of books, too. Lots of books."
"That's..." Obi-Wan tried to hide his confusion. "Good news."
"Great news, I'm sure. Tremendous news. You can tell your master, Sifo Dias? That his order, its gonna be met. Right on time."
He couldn't help himself this time, and let slip his quizzical gaze. "I'm sorry, that was master...?"
"Sifo Dias? Am I saying that right?" Trump glanced with awkward confusion at the guide woman. "He's a leading member of the Jedi Council, right? I never met him. Just what I read on file."
Obi-Wan explained, "Master Sifo Dias was killed almost ten years ago." He couldn't think of any business the Jedi would have on Earth that would need a contract lasting more than ten years, let alone a secret that could be kept that long from the rest of the council that he himself was a part of.
"Oh," Trump shook his head and frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure he was a good guy. Great guy. And he would've loved this prophecy we made for him. Tremendous stuff."
"The prophecy?"
"Yes, and, it's gotta be said; some of the best films ever made. Believe me. Everybody knows it."
"Everybody?"
"Everybody gets to see the movies, all over the planet. Everybody loves 'em, I love them. Great films."
"Tell me, Mister President, when my master first contacted you about... the prophecy, did he say what it was supposed to be predicting?"
"Oh yeah, definitely. The prophecy is about the end of the Galactic Republic." Trump motioned at the door, standing. "But why talk about it when I can show you! You want to see them for yourself, right?"
"That's... why I'm here." He lied, deciding finally that as long as they were handing him information so freely, he would keep up his charade.
___
As the end credits rolled and the lights in the theater brightened, Obi-Wan found himself bolted to his seat, petrified by the revelations he had just witnessed.
Trump casually leaned over from the seat next to him. "So, what do you think of it? Good stuff, right?"
"Very impressive," Obi-Wan muttered, the color having drained from his face. "Tell me," he cleared his throat and regained his composure. "Who made this prophecy?"
"A film director named George Lucas."
"And where is this film director now?"
"Oh, we keep him here, in the states."
"I would very much like to meet this George Lucas."
"I think he'd like to meet you too." Trump smiled. "I would be happy to arrange it."
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On Smart Devices and PC's across the nation, no matter their timezone or schedule, people were watching of all things, a live podcast on what until two days ago was a YouTube channel with less than a hundred subscribers. It's budget was whatever "Callie-OP" felt like and could afford.
Now, She has a garage full of donated recording gear, and over a hundred million subscribers, despite her previously most watched video (a whole 786 views, thankyou very much) was when she threw up with the flu during a stream talking about the second Ghost Rider movie.
There wasn't much to see at the moment, as there rarely is before a stream. It was a smattering of Callie's own interests really, to keep her amused while she prepared everything.
The audience was being treated to a collection of LoFi Chillhop tracks, with occasional nerdy soundbites in them. Dancing across the "Just Chill - We'll Be Back Soon" message on it's pastel nebula background, were a pair of stylized cartoon characters. Big eyed anime-esque girls danced to the music, one swinging a long cobbled together metal staff of sorts, dressed in beige wraps and rags, hair in a bow; The other a redhead with glasses and a purple hoody, spinning and dancing in her wheelchair.
The waiting image snapped off suddenly, and the host was there, ramrod straight, and fumbling with her smartphone, pointing it at the monitor like an old remote control. She wore no suit, no dress, no real makeup.
She wore an over-sized pink knitted sweater with an image knitted onto the front of a First order Storm Trooper helmet with crossbones beneath.
She wore a pair of jeans so black they may have been washed in bleach's arch-nemesis.
She wore striped socks and no shoes, despite the rack of them in the corner.
She wore her hair down and relaxed, with a nervous smile.
The audience would not know. Some might guess, but most probably would judge first. Those who did, knew this precious thing... Her guest told her to 'wear the same shit you would for a normal podcast, man! Have fun or whats the fuckin point, right?"
Her guest, laughing as he patted the over-sized chair he was half sunken into, was just as dressed down. And leaning up a bit, checking on her even as he enjoyed his chair.
He wore a backwards ball cap in it's greens and browns.
He wore a hockey jersey, emblazoned with a cartoon Yoda in mid lightsaber swing on a field of tan.
He wore baggy shorts that went out of style twenty years ago.
He wore sneakers meant for skateboarders.
He wore a goofy grin, plain glasses, beard, and goatee.
The audience was by and large, not surprised. Those that were, they were in for a few more shocks this afternoon.
"Sooo"
Callie's voice cracked like a junior high kid on presentation day.
"We have... I mean... It's Kevin Smith on the show!"
Her hands lifted to wave about him, a flourish of surprise, the big shocker that literally everyone knew about for days, thanks to world wide hype.
Kevin of course burst into an even bigger smile and waved to the camera with both hands, the gesture normally reserved for seven year olds saying hello in family videos.
"I gotta say it's an honor to have you hear, to have you pick my podcast to talk on."
Though Callie tried to start this professionally, like a talk show host should, the exchange started more relaxed, as fluid as a conversation between friends.
"No man, I'm happy to be here, I love watching your videos! That one with the b-movie effects... What was that, model rockets?"
"Oh, yeah, I actually-" she caught herself and waved it off. He had distracted her the entire set up. They were almost late for showtime because he was just that personable.
"I'll tell you later... for now, I have to ask you, did you know about all this being true? The Force, the Jedi, all of it" she did her best (absolutely atrocious) Old Han impression. And to her relief, he must of enjoyed it, because he was already going red in the face laughing.
After a moment he would calm down and wave his hand one way and head the other.
"No way. I mean, I thought maybe there was something like the force... You've seen it, Mallrats, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, I'm always using Jedi powers and shit in those."
There was a pause, a hanging in the air as the young host gathered up her thoughts.
"But.. you have them. those powers. That's why you're going right?"
Smith threw his arms up, bouncing in the chair liek an excited kid.
"Apparently! How fucking cool is that? As soon as they told me they wanted me in the order to represent Sol-3 -How weird is that, we make fun of Yavin 4 for it's boring name, and we're just as bad. Not like the name dirt was any better. Or ooh, TERRA, that's a stretch, right?" he cut his own tangent off with a shake of the head, despite the laughter and interest Callie was showing. "But yeah man, they said I was pretty strong in the force, and as soon as I knew that was real, it just sorta turned on in my head, right? Mind holding me back and everything before"
To demonstrate, Kevin put two fingers to his forehead -brows wiggling at the camera for those that got the reference- and pointed his other hand off screen. Soon enough his smartphone would wobble through the air, the fatman on batman dancing in his seat while he force-juggled a phone.
Until it went flying behind them and ripped the green-screen.
Smith shrunk a bit, but laughed it off.
"It's okay, I have like, fifty rolls of that now, thanks to you."
The girl was more happy to have witnessed the force. THE ACTUAL FORCE.
"Yeah" the Jersey nerd was already taking it in stride with her "I figured you could use a whole set up if you plan on podcasting for a while. What made you get into it?"
There was a flush and a smile.
"I actually really like sharing my experiences and opini- HEY!" she swatted the chair he sat in with her palm "I'm asking the questions!" it was admittedly, a light hearted scolding. "People want to know what it's like to be an actual jedi, what you think about it, how you feel about going to another world to train."
Smith raised a hand to her, as if giving her the stage "Then keep doing your podcast when you get there, let them know"
There was a silence in the air, Callie pointing to him, then herself, then something off camera. It was only broken by the entertainer turned Jedi learner, and his exclamation to the camera and audience at home.
| 2017-03-18T10:38:28 | 2017-03-18T10:07:58 | 79 | 23 |
[WP] Tell me a story about a character. Make me love it more as the story unfolds. Then make me hate it in the last sentence.
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She tiptoed around the dark bedroom, tucking in the little red chairs gathered around the reading table, tidying away picture books scattered by the bookshelf, and picking crayons up from the play mat.
With a wide yawn, she plopped herself down beside the bed and stroked the hair out of her youngest son's face. The three of them laid together in bed like this, they really did look like the little angels that they were. Sure, they were a handful sometimes, but looking at them like this, the exhausted mother knew that she'd be just fine.
She turned on the bedside lamp and took out her phone. Snapping a photograph, she smiled, noting how much each of them looked like their father. They were all daddy's boys and resembled him in appearance and temperament. She could hardly remember herself before her ex-husband, he had given her a life that she had never expected. Opening up her text messages, she sent the photo to him with the caption, 'All thanks to you, my dear. xx'
She turned the lamp back off and slumped down beside the bed, closing her eyes in rest. She was so tired all the time. Other mothers told her to nap when the toddler's nap, but she always had too much to do to heed their advice. Just this once, she decided to take a few minutes of peace before the house was once again a commotion of tears and yelling. Moments of silence were rare in this household.
When the sound of sirens roused her from her sleep, she swept the three shells on the carpet under the bed, and looking over her sons' bodies, put the gun to her own temple, whispering 'If I can't have you, no one can.'
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Sean’s a great guy. He studies engineering in college, hoping to be a civil engineer once he graduates. He gets straight A’s in all his classes, he’s a model student.
Since he’s a senior at a state university, he lives off campus in a house with 3 other guys. He can commonly be found in the kitchen doing dishes, tidying up the living room, or doing homework.
He also enjoys spending time in the basement which he’s made into a makeshift darkroom for his photography. He enjoys old fashioned cameras, with old fashioned film. “It just makes the pictures more real.” Sean always says to anyone who asks why.
He’s even considered sending in his photography to magazines, or newspapers! But he couldn’t ever accept money for doing something that he loves to do so much.
After work, one bright, sunshine-y, day, one of his roommates, Kevin, comes home to find Sean doing some gardening, planting flowers along the front side of the house.
“Planting some rose bushes?” Kevin asks.
“Yeah! Just figured it would make the yard look much more vibrant.” Sean replies with a bright smile on his face.
“You should take some pictures of the house once you’re done! Come get us when you’ve got your camera ready.” Kevin says as he walks into the house smiling.
“Will do!” Sean shouts as he takes off his gloves and goes into the house.
He immediately walks downstairs into the basement, eager to take some pictures.
It’s very dark in the basement, but Sean doesn’t mind. He grabs a camera and says, “Let’s take a few test shots to make sure this bad boy works.”
He presses the button on the camera, as he does, the flash illuminates the cowering body of the naked young boy chained to a wall with a ball gag locked into his mouth.
| 2017-04-11T23:29:24 | 2017-04-11T18:26:17 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Weapons become more powerful the older they get. Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies.
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Dr Klara Fuente protested at first, insisting that the blindfold would give her motion sickness. She eventually relented when she realised they prized secrecy over the cleanliness of their car.
Men and their cloaks and daggers, she thought, desperately trying to hold her dinner down as the car cruised over the bumpy country road.
She soon found herself deposited at a clearing in the forest, where Agent Benny Vicks was already waiting for her, and she didn't hesitate to share a piece of her mind. "Was all this really necessary? You know that I work best in my lab, right? I don't have half the equipment I need here, and this is going to be such a waste of time."
"It's urgent," he said, starting to grin, "besides, don't archaeologists love field trips?"
Klara had more than enough fuel to continue complaining for at least an hour, but then she caught sight of the other Agents fanned out in a rough perimeter around the clearing. Dusk had already begun to rob the skies of their primary source of illumination, and as the towering spotlights flickered on one by one, Klara was left with little doubt that this was anything but an ordinary expedition.
The glazed-wood crossbows, strapped to the backs of the Agents, was the only confirmation she needed. There was enough firepower there to level a small city, give or take.
"Are those... 19th century Barnett crossbows?"
"You see why we need you here? There's no one else better at what you do, and you know that."
"Are we in danger?" said Klara, looking about her frantically. "In all my years working with you, I've never seen such a show of force!"
Agent Vicks laughed. "Just a precaution. You'll understand when you see. Come."
At the center of the clearing, two Agents were waiting with what appeared to be a local farmer, electric cattle prod still in hand, good for nothing more than swatting flies. The weary look on his face suggested that he had been inconvenienced for quite some time already.
"Are you the scientist they said was coming to evaluate the site? Oh, we've been waiting too long! Am I done here? Can I go now?"
"I'm not a scientist," Klara grumbled, "but I suppose I was the one you're waiting for. What did you find?"
Klara still remembered the first time she had been engaged to assist. Whisked out of her laboratory under similar circumstances, she was asked to opine whether the cache of weapons intercepted by customs were merely very recently-produced replicas of hundred-year old slingshots, meant for a movie production as the labels on the shipping boxes indicated, or whether they were evidence of an arms-smuggling route, long suspected but never confirmed.
That was her forte, the ability to marry keenness of observation with intellect of mind, to ascertain and evaluate the strength of any weapon she came across. Sure, anyone could simply wield said weapon to find out how potent they were, but that always carried a risk. After all, it wasn’t always easy to tell the difference between a fifty-year old knife and a five-hundred-year old one, and with the way that weapons grew exponentially more powerful as the years rolled by… the world had certainly seen more than enough of its fair share of accidental devastations, just because someone thought to see what that old rusty spear they had found could do.
Hence, the demand for people of Klara’s calibre, archaeologists who specialized in weapon-dating.
“I was looking for new land to expand my farm to, so I came here to dig around, test the soil. That’s when I found this,” said the farmer, pointing to a patch of earth he had evidently spent some effort digging through.
Agent Vicks spoke into his walkie-talkie, and the nearest spotlight swivelled to bathe them in harsh, cold light. Klara squinted, shielding her eyes from the sudden assault, trying to discern what lay beneath.
“This… is not a weapon,” she said, “it’s a skeleton. The undeveloped curvature of the hips, the length of the shin bones… this looks like a male, I would say. It’s old, that’s for sure, but I’d need to run tests to figure out just how old. To be honest, and I don’t want to rain on your parade, but you’re not going to get much mileage out of this one. You could fashion his bones into a spear, or a club, but because they were never used as weapons before, in the literal sense, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. You’re never going to get anything useful out of th-”
“Please, Dr Fuente,” said Agent Vicks, “you give us too little credit. We know weapons only start accruing potency from the time they were wielded as one. For now, what’s your best guess, how powerful would these bones be, if they were weapons?”
Klara thought back to the Atgeir Scale, named after the oldest, intact weapon humanity had ever unearthed, a Viking dagger from the 10th century. It occupied the top-end of the scale, with a full score of 10.0 Atgeir points, the perfect combination of age and intent – the Bartnett crossbows she saw earlier easily rated 2.0, 2.2 Atgeir points each. That Viking relic had such destructive power that the United Nations had lobbied for it to be smelted and dispersed, such was the threat to the stability of the planet. Every other weapon since then had been measured against it, and found wanting.
“Well… again, I can’t be sure, but these bones look to be at least… what, 50,000, 55,000 years old? So yes, of course, if they were weapons they would completely rewrite the Atgeir Scale, and make our entire country’s arsenal look like hot sand in comparison. But as I’ve said, these bones aren’t weapons.”
Agent Vicks smiled. “You’re not on your best form today, Dr Fuente. Observe the skull,” he said, lifting the skeleton lightly with gloved hands.
Klara saw it then, the smooth grain of the bone ending in raw, jagged edges at the back of the skull. Though age had worn away some of the enamel, introduced cracks and chips where there were none before, this was a classic case of someone who had been quite violently, for the lack of a better word, brained from the back with a blunt instrument.
The gears clicked in her mind.
“Do you mean…”
Agent Vicks nodded, then pointed a short distance away, where preliminary digging had uncovered a slab of carbonite, dark as midnight, pulsing with a quiet, pensive energy. It was about the size of a large basketball, and wielded between two hands, swung overhead at a target, it would have carried quite the perfect heft.
“That’s the murder weapon right there, for a crime over 50,000 years old. Care to reevaluate just how much this trip is waste of your time?”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
**"保護者"**
...
You could probably see him if you squinted. Maybe. The fluttering curtains of sand, dust, and ash obscured his shadowy silhouette as soon as they revealed it.
Seemingly fading in...and out of existence.
A scarf was pulled over his mouth but barely filtered the rot plaguing the land. Bones of men, women, and children laid on the dehydrated dirt, stripped clean by the foul gusts before being baked by the afternoon rays.
There had been a village here, one that was built on the backs of prospectors hoping to strike it rich.
Gold was the name of the game. Many grew rich. Many grew old...and withered away.
A partially crushed crib was buried beneath a fallen barnyard. Various pots and pans littered the soil, along with a pair of golden revolvers. Useless, now. Still, the man salvaged what he could.
He had a long way to go.
...
Walls of moisture struck him in constant waves. In here, the man was granted the pleasure and privilege of shade under the towering trees, their trunks so thick the Greataxe of Light wouldn't be able to cut them down.
So the legend goes.
Huddled around a small campfire, he only remembered stories of these weapons.
A katana that could pierce the sky, slicing through the hardy scales of dragons in one fell swoop.
A spear whose tip would grow hot enough to melt everything in its path. Even the ghostly specters that roamed the crypts would suffer its wrath.
A greatshield that was impenetrable, protecting the wielder from every army and beast.
With time, they would grant inconceivable power. They would grant men with the gift of *gods*.
Yet, the man had no interest in those weapons.
*He had destroyed them*. Along with the souls who dared to use them for their own means. Noblemen, samurai, shinobi, gunslinger, or witch. They all paid.
Glory. Revenge. Greed. Love.
Their own reasons for keeping the weapons were as numerous as the holes in the man's dark cloak. He was indifferent to them, even as they begged. He would always let them beg, so he could be sure of the insanity constricting their very minds from decades of immortality and invincibility.
They always said the same thing:
*"Give it back. You don't deserve it."*
In a way, they were right. He didn't deserve it.
They didn't either.
No one did.
He would make sure of it, for the cycle must end with him, and him alone.
...
The cloaked man placed a foul-smelling carcass of a forager on a moss covered boulder in the depths of the woodlands. Flies and maggots clung to the flesh in writhing masses.
Minutes would pass until a trail of hissing bloodflies flew out of the interior of a decaying tree trunk. Hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands. All of them amassed into a vaguely humanoid face that loomed over the lone wanderer. By vibrating their abdomens together, the Face began to speak in a menacing dialect.
**"WHAT DO YOU SEEK?"**
Shivers danced up his spine. "A runaway. A woman from a far, distant land, who had stolen something she does not understand. She has entered your domain." responded the wanderer.
**"ANOTHER RUNAWAY?"**
He just nodded.
Clumps of bloodflies began to branch off of the face, flying in multiple directions. The wanderer simply waited, listening to the lulling rushes of the river and cawing of the avian creatures.
In a few moments, the scouts returned with news.
Thanking the insects, the man bowed and continued towards the spring.
The forager carcass was devoured in an instant.
...
A deer scurried off to its brood as the man approached the shores of the crystal clear waters, its beauty utterly captivating to both men and monsters alike. In the middle was a young woman bathing in the nude.
The woman from a far and distant land.
She dipped her head beneath the surface, soaking her hair and squeezed out the dirt and grime out.
Then she stopped. Tilting her head, she faced the wanderer, covering her exposed chest. Colors of shock tinted with shades of rage rushed onto her youthful features. She knew what her beauty was worth, but to the man standing alone by the shores, it meant absolutely nothing. He was just relieved, for she was still only human.
"Have you no decency?" she asked in a bitter tone.
He walked over to her things, rustling through her robes and bag. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"I'm giving you a choice. Please-"
A gigantic chain-whip blasted out of the waters, the barbed tip hurled at the man at astounding speed.
He moved slightly to the left, watching the chain-whip smash into a collection of rocks, shattering them into molten pieces of gravel. Undeterred, the woman whirled her weapon around in a loop, decimating an entire acre of land. Bushes and trees caught fire. Now, the earth began to shriek as entire tracts of land were split open. Herds of beasts fell to their deaths.
His advantage was her own inexperience with the weapon.
Sighing, the man casually ducked, taking a step closer. He didn't bother to use his repeater, knowing that the bullets would simply ricochet off her skin.
Instead, in his hands was a worn scythe, resembling those that were used by farmers in the south.
But this one wasn't used for farming.
The sharp blade effortlessly deflected the weapon, allowing him to advance. Blocking her flurries sent rippling shockwaves that reverberated through the forests, sending birds flying off into the horizon. Water splashed onto his cloak and splattered against his armor.
Her attacks grew more frantic.
His advances remained steady.
A swing of his arm and her right hand was forcibly removed from her arm, and with it, the chain-whip. Both of them plopped into the water.
"No! No! NO!" screamed the woman, searching for her hand. Blood spilled copiously into the spring water.
The youth that adorned her face faded immediately. The wrinkles gathered around her eyes and cheeks, taking on a gray complexion. Her breasts sagged and her hair grew thin with splitting ends.
The man reached down, grabbed the chain and placed it against the blade of his scythe.
"Give it back...You don't deserve it-" sputtered the hag. "You don't-"
Watching the chain turn into ash halted the words that spewed from her chapped, worm-like lips.
A cut to her neck would silence her forever.
Afterward, the tired wanderer dragged her bloody corpse out of the spring and buried her in a small ditch. Mosquitoes circled around his head yet he still shoveled for hours. Kneeling before the grave, he uttered a short, but poignant prayer.
The wanderer begged the gods for forgiveness.
Not for him, though.
*But for her.*
...
| 2017-04-21T07:14:00 | 2017-04-21T07:13:50 | 2,088 | 358 |
[WP] Weapons become more powerful the older they get. Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies.
|
You all mocked me
Called me insane.
Said that I was a fool and that I would die trying.
Well now I stand here, your armies desolated, from a simple jawbone.
For it is that jawbone
That weapon
That was used by Cain to slay Abel.
Older then any weapon on earth
For it is the first.
And now, I end this world
|
This blade has been passed down from father to son for generations in my family. It's rust was feared by many, and it could cut through anything with its well-dulled sides. This dagger was a legend, and I got to see it in the flesh. I could destroy anything I wanted to, and strike fear into what I didn't.
Of course, none of that mattered when I dropped it and cut through the floor. And kept going for miles.
| 2017-04-21T09:57:12 | 2017-04-21T08:51:58 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] You've been convicted of 1st degree murder, and (as is customary in society) are sentenced to "death by black-hole." You expect death as your capsule approaches the event horizon. After crossing, everything goes silent, until you hear someone say "Sir, I've found another one."
|
My capsule hurtled toward a black hole and all I could do was wait. I couldn't move much in my sophisticated coffin as I waited to be buried deep in a hole in space. But at least I had a little window to peak at the stars as I plummeted to my doom. It's the little things.
Death by Black Hole. That was the sentence for 1st degree murder. I could tell you how remorseful I felt and how regretful I was for what I'd done while I made my way to obliteration, but no, all I could think about was how my body would be turned into a noodle once I got there. Spaghettification, I think they called it. My stomach rumbled. I was a bit peckish, too.
I couldn't determine exactly how long I'd been lying in my casket, but it felt like days. My body was cramped and aching. I was feeling claustrophobic. I would kill to have a bit of a stretch.
More time had passed and I was getting anxious. I was truly on my way to die. And one would think with such complex machinery at least a beeping or a ticking would be heard from somewhere in my deathbed. I listened... to nothing. Utter silence. I muttered to myself to drown out the quiet.
"Don't crack. They want you to crack. It's torture. It's mind games."
For every new cramp or soreness, I thought it was the end. I thought I would be torn apart. I thought it over and over again. It was driving me mad. I began to panic, screaming and cursing, thrashing around in what little room I had.
I had started to feel dizzy and stopped my fit abruptly. It was hard to breathe in this god forsaken coffin. I was drenched in sweat as I breathed heavily, attempting to gather my wits. And then I felt it. The black hole.
At least I thought I had. Weren't my legs being pulled? For a split second hadn't my whole body been stretched and strained like a rubber band? It was as if I snapped back instead of being snapped apart. I wondered if I had imagined it. Had I lost my mind? I could hear something. I could hear someone! I shouted from within my confines.
"Help! Help! Please set me free! I'm sorry I did it, please," I cried.
A man walked by my little window. Walked? How was it possible? He jerked his head toward my direction. I was terrified. It didn't make sense. I could hear him now, but very muffled.
"Sir, I've found another one," he said.
He looked familiar. I'd seen this man before. There was a sickness in my stomach as I came to realize just who it was.
"You're lucky you caught that one, would've been my ass, too," said another voice. "Hurry up and launch him."
My executioners. Not again. No. Please.
I shouted and begged to no avail. I was launched into space once more. My capsule hurtled toward a black hole and all I could do was wait.
|
"Quiescence."
Euphemism marks the death of thought. For those who have done the unthinkable, euphemism marks the birth of hate. I sat and waited to hear that word uttered again as a farewell. They must have been adjusting schedules to witness my *departure* as I searched for cracks in a seamless wall. Wishing I had just let them all die, my hate grew tired of itself. Why hate people who were wrong?
I repeated my admissions:
Yes, the protocols are in place to protect us.
Yes, especially here, we cannot risk human error.
Yes, I disabled the protocols.
No, I am not authorized to do so.
No, it was not a mistake.
No one believed that the system had prompted me to disable them. Whoever coded that failsafe was the real hero. Perhaps, it wasn't even spoken into the code but just something an algo cooked up and promptly deleted. Fucking slunt.
While we're at it, fuck Loop 7. They confirmed that a software glitch had caused a stuck value which lead to a cooling system failure and required that I shut down the docking system while I rerouted power. They conceded that if the bypass cables had been in the correct place rather than stowed with emergency parts for the urine recycler this would not have happened. They even acknowledged the extreme importance of making sure a navigation satellite could dock for repairs given the two others which had not yet been replaced. She was outside though and it seemed too convenient that my decisions killed her.
They wanted her to save them, not me. She wasn't gracious when she replaced me as administrator but she was pragmatic. I was told coolness was refreshing for some after dealing with a person like myself for so long. I was also promptly told to fuck off. She was their living, breathing catharsis.
So, they could not accept that the system would prompt me to disable the protocols and send the navigational satellite hurling around the station to crush their heroine. They needed to believe she would have stopped our orbital decay. I probably killed myself by challenging them to tell me how they imagined she was going to do that. Perhaps, it was the silence afterwards which killed me.
A port opened in the seamless wall and that odd smell of travel gel began to pour in. God forbid I died before I reached the edge. A slight vibration shuddered through the gel that had filled to my waist.
A chorus sounded, "We affirm the sentence."
"What sentence?" demanded a lone voice.
"Quiescence."
All I could think as I choked in the gel was *'What a stupid word.'*
My heartbeat battered against the substance gripping my body with that last bit of life on the fall towards being torn apart.
*****
"Sir, I've found another one."
"Containment."
"Yes, sir."
"What an ugly bastard!"
"Your first?"
"Yes."
"They all swell up in the acceleration protection."
"Well, get him out of there and begin acculturation."
"Yes, sir."
"Can he hear me?"
"The indicator says he's responsive."
"Alright, then. Welcome to the other side the universe's own forsaken asshole. Hold tight because we've got work to do."
| 2017-07-14T01:41:48 | 2017-07-14T00:26:56 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are the only known sentient species in the galaxy to lack any magical ability. The reasons only become clear when an alien emissary senses something deep beneath the oceans, sleeping, waiting.
|
She paused, and crossed one of her wrists over the other, long talons tapping an absent minded rhythm across her lap.
"I'm sorry, Diplomat Eros. Is there something bothering you?"
She looked up at the room, eyes opening slightly wider. The assembled peoples represented the nations of earth, and the small envoy of interplanetary emissaries sat at a grand table. Eros pressed a button on her necklace, which projected out a gentle but firm voice.
"No, no. My apologies. I don't mean to be absent minded. I feel a bit odd today is all. I'm certain it's nothing. Please continue Councilman Karlsson."
The small man with large glasses adjusted his tie slightly and gathered his voice.
"Of course, Diplomat Eros. You'll have to forgive us, we're still so new at this. As I was saying, I believe we don't have much to offer you by way of any specific arcane knowledge. To be candid, concepts such as magic and alchemy fell out of favor with mankind at least a millennia ago. And even then I'm not certain they were...legitimate pursuits."
The hulking mass of undulating lights and crystalline shapes known as Erebus gathered itself into the approximate shape of a human in it's chair.
"There, that's better. Respectfully, Councilman Karlsson, we'd still like an opportunity to review those documents and whatever information you may have for perusal. I understand a fellow named Tolkien wrote some rather compelling fiction we'd like to evaluate - I've been doing studies on the human subconscious desire to write supernatural worlds and I believe there might be something there worth investigating more. Your species' legends and myths pose a fascinating potential area to study, and I think given a little time we could really dig in and find out where in your history your kind went so terribly wrong. Especially in scientific study - *such* an elementary understanding of energy and psychics - I can't say we've ever ran across such a limited group in that regard."
The humans in attendance grumbled and shifted in their seats slightly as Erebus slowly dissolved back into a cloud of sparks. Karlsson adjusted his tie again, subtly composing himself.
"We understand you mean no disrespect, Erebus. Clearly your intentions are academic and in the name of discovery and peace. I believe a modest number of the books you've requested are on the way as we speak, and it is my intention to speak with the Vatican and our older libraries to gain you access to some of the archives our species has. In exchange for this, we'd like to further discuss gaining access to your faster than light technology and perhaps some of the terraforming technology you've mentioned."
The afternoon dragged on, the human's distrust and dislike of the envoy growing by the minute, and the patience of the visitor's slowly dwindling away in the face of the primates absurd requests. Passive aggressive promises and threats were traded without much progress. Eventually a small cache of books and movies was brought up and a short recess was taken to let the visitor's review the provided materials in solitude while the human's conferred outside.
"This is getting nowhere, Karlsson. If I get called a base primate or a lesser intellect one more time today I'm sending in the goddamn special forces to vacuum up that cloud of glittery dust Erebus."
"Patience, Anderson. Patience."
"I'm with Councilwoman Anderson. I'm about done with putting up with these patronizing 'scientists'. First contact was nothing like I thought it'd be"
An intern who had been tasked to help the emissaries ran up to the loosely assembled group.
"Pardon me, but several of the aliens...errr...emissaries are leaving."
Karlsson nodded and briskly walked back into the building, watching as the Erebus ship took off along with a few of the others.
Left at the table was Eros, back into position with wrists crossed and talons tapping.
"I'm must apologize again, Diplomat Eros. Did my people do something wrong?"
She pressed the button on her necklace, and slid a book across the table.
"Was this meant to intimidate us? Or is it a joke? It's in bad humor if it is."
Karlsson picked up the book from the table, it was an old tome of Lovecraft tales.
"This? It's 20th century pulp fiction. We thought to include it as it is a rather popular..."
Eros lifted a talon which floated the book in the air and then flicked her wrist which slammed the book against the wall.
"I'm not playing around Karlsson. No more double speak. If you are trying to trick us I will find out and I will obliterate you and your people and this forsaken planet in an instant."
He felt a heat and a pressure in his sternum, and looked down to see a small ball of flame floating a few inches in front of his chest.
"I swear to you, Diplomat Eros. These are only stories. Written by a madman."
The ball of flame dimmed, and Eros lowered her hands again.
"There is a name that every species carries with us. Ancient and dangerous regardless of which corner of the universe you go to. All of us are irrelevant in the face of it, all of us are hopeless against it, and completely unequipped to even understand the power and gravity of it. It, I suspect, is why I have been feeling so unusual since arriving here."
Karlsson sat down at the table slowly, as Eros again lifted a talon which floated the book off the ground and onto the table.
"We beat it into submission so long ago there are stars that have risen and fallen in the time since it went into hiding. The reason your species has no magic is because he has been using your kind to generate energies for him. You've evolved and grown and become violent and twisted because his mind is linking you all to him. And he is recovering."
More of the human politicians slowly entered the room. Karlsson bowed his head down, looking at the pages of the book.
"This Tolkien...this Gaiman...this King...I suspect they've all glanced or somehow realized it existed. Some of them linking it to water, like so many of your myths it seems. It only wants chaos and power. It only wants destruction. Your Lovecraft though, he must've had a direct connection to the beast."
Eros pulled up her sleeve showing a scar on her upper arm. The ground trembled slightly as she did.
"This brand reads Cthulhu in my language. To never let my people forget there is evil and distrust and that we beat it. But now here you are. Unwitting batteries for unspeakable evil."
Karlsson lowered his glasses down to the table, a shaking hand unsteadily placing them next to the book. The lights in the room swelled and dimmed before shutting off.
"We are not unwitting."
Karlsson's eyes glowed in the dark room, as did that of each of the assembled politicians. Karlsson laughed, and slowly his voice shifted down in pitch as the group slowly advanced on Eros. She launched fireballs at them, and their flesh burned and slaked off but they continued to advance, all of them laughing in unison.
"I'm sorry, Diplomat Eros. Is there something bothering you?"
|
"As the current Secretary-General of the United Nations of Earth, I welcome you." Secretary-General Nabul Hozier was a bit nervous, as this was the first time an alien diplomat had come to Earth. In previous meetings, their diplomats had commented that humans didn't have a very powerful 'aura', whatever that was.
Nabul greatly wanted to find out what, exactly, that meant, if only to appease the curiousity of the human race.
The alien tapped a button on his glove before speaking, "I accept your welcome. I am Nnzuti Drrtify, Leader of the Kddiftoma. Translated, it would appear your title for me would be Leader of the Krinsethi. I believe you are unable to pronounce some of our sounds, so you may call me Nunzuti. Similar enough to my actual name." Nnzuti Drrtify spoke with the air of someone used to having power, but he seemed nice enough. Not one to abuse it, but also not one to do too much that he didn't have to.
"My name is Nabul Hozier. May I show you where you will be staying?"
"Yes. Me and my entourage are ready."
"Then right this way." Nabul led them away from the spaceport, and to a train terminal. "I hope your accommodations are not unsuitable, but as we have no experience with your culture, we saw fit to allow you to decorate it yourselves. The are A.I. controlled nanites ready to take your orders on how to decorate."
"How thoughtful! We will make sure to get right on that."
"And, one more thing. What is your diet like? Plant material, meat, a mix?"
"We are fungivores. Eating mostly fungus. That won't be a problem? We brought a fungus synthesizer, just in case."
"Oh, no. Not a problem. We do have a thriving fungus-growing industry, for those that want cheap, nutritious food. Although, I am sure we can get something that isn't just nutrition."
"Good. That synthesizer stuff tastes horrible." He makes what Nabul assumes to be a face of disgust, then goes back to normal. They then arrive at the wing set aside for the Krinsethi Embassy.
"Beyond these doors is yours. Holographic projectors, nanite construction, and recolour able pillows await. Our first meeting can wait until tomorrow. Sundown is in about three hours, so take your time."
_____________________________________________________________________
Nabul left the Krinsethi to themselves, letting them redecorate. He hoped that they liked what they could do, and the food that would be provided. Which reminded him, he needed to get an order with the chefs to prepare the fungus for them.
And he needed to ask the Krinsethi for an actual list of what they can't eat, so he can give that to the chefs.
Turning back, Nabul went back to the Krinsethi Embassy. Knocking on the door, he waited patiently for an answer. When nobody answered, despite repeated knocks, he opened the door, and walked in. They had already started on the hallway in my about fifteen minute absence, but nothing definitive had been completed yet.
Nabul glanced around the room, and found Nunzuti standing in the middle of the hallway, bent down and fiddling with the interface for the floor.
"Nunzuti, can I talk to you?"
"Nabul, my friend. Yes, what is it?"
"I actually need a definitive list of what your species can and can't eat. I don't want our chefs accidentally poisoning you."
"Well, that is certainly reasonable. And, we came prepared." He hands Nabul a data cube. "This contains detailed uses on every spice, plant, and animal species we have tried. It needs translating, but I am sure your computers can handle it."
Nabul nods, and takes the data cube. "Thank you, my friend. It would be unseemly if an accident were to happen while you were here." Nabul then leaves, heading for the kitchen.
When he gets there, he asks to see the head chef. She detaches herself from the crowd in the kitchen, and comes over to meet Nabul in the lounge right outside.
Starlen Benogha, the head chef. Not tall, but certainly intimidating from her demeanour and stance. Blonde, *very* blonde hair is tied up. Her brown eyes are piercing, looking straight into your soul, and she is currently wearing an apron, which shows just how white her skin is. "Nabul, I have been expecting you. What of the diet of our alien visitors?"
"Well, Star, we have a data cube with what you need to know. Here it is, do what you will. I need to prepare for the summit tomorrow."
"Sure thing. Are you going to be staying up late again?"
"Yeah. Could you have a snack sent up in about two hours?"
"Same as the past two weeks?"
"Yes. I like my jello sandwiches."
Star made a face, "To each their own."
Nabul then left, heading for his quarters on the other side of the building. Along the way, he paused in a hallway to glance at his reflection in a mirror.
"Man, I look almost as old as I feel." His stark white hair and beard are trimmed neatly, framing a face full of crease lines. His suit was tailored to be almost skintight, and showed that he was still fit. Dark eyes, of indistinguishable colour sat in a similarly dark face.
Sighing, Nabul continued on his way. "Hopefully all goes well tomorrow." He mutters.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
And the very next day, the meeting was called to order.
Nunzuti's voice boomed through the hall, reaching even the darkest corners of the room. "Fellow friends! I am grateful for the hospitality you have shown me and my people thus far. Now, we shall begin!" This proclamation was met with claps and cheers, both from Krinsethi and Humans alike.
Now, we shall skip the boring talk about the exact value of various minerals to be traded, and get right to the goo part.
*Three days later* (Not really, but you get the idea)
Nabul stands up, ready to clarify on a seemingly innocuous statement made before. "Nunzuti, one of your diplomats had previously said that humans have a very weak aura. What does this mean?"
Nunzuti looks surprised by the question, but answers smoothly. "You Humans, as a species, have only enough magic to keep you alive. From what I can tell, something on your planet is taking your power."
Nabul is most definitely surprised by this. "Magic was disproved more than a thousand years ago. We have legends and myths about wizards and witches, but they are all very old."
"Well, that is certainly interesting. I would like to hear these legends, and hunting down whatever is taking your magic is definitely an adventure that can't be missed."
*Author's note*: Finished according to the prompt. Join me at r/James_Fire for more to keep you entertained, and the rest of this. I want to expand this beyond what the prompt says, and plan to in my subreddit.
| 2017-08-27T17:28:52 | 2017-08-27T16:28:23 | 127 | 89 |
[WP] Its the year 2199 and humans have the technology to transfer an animals characteristic to humans (e.g. reflexes of a cat etc.) You have chosen a quite...unconventional animal
|
"For the last time, MACHINES AREN'T ANIMALS!"
In response, I glare at the naysayer, and say "You're just jealous you can't boost into orbit under your own power." gesturing to the modified fusion-torch engines in my legs, adapted from the design of a somewhat common spaceplane.
The catgirl I'm arguing with asks "Oh? Dare I ask if you even qualify as a living organism at this point?"
I say "Do you? The definition still hasn't been quite set. Besides, organic life has been pretty much obsolete for a century or so by now. I should know, seeing as since I moved my mind to a special quantum processor I've been more or less immortal long enough to have been your grandpa's grandpa."
The catgirl shakes her head, and remarks "If you like machines so much, then why aren't you on one of the off-world colonies, especially with your oh-so-special orbital capabilities?"
I tsk, my voice synthesizer rendering the sound in crisp tones, before replying "Where do you think I spend most of my time to get away from you organic supremacists? I'm just here for a few weeks to check up on some of my descendants, great-great granddaughter."
At this, the catgirl goes wide-eyed as I continue to ramble "Knew I should have only gone for synthetic children; those branches of the family at least respect my choice of body type!"
|
“Why a chicken?”
“Sorry?”
“I said, out of all the animals why a chicken?”
I could tell that she was getting riled up but I really don’t know why. Granted most people pick a bear for strength, maybe a big cat for agility. But no one ever picks anything with an interesting story. Granted having the traits of a blobfish might be a little too far out there for me. That’s why I chose a trait of a chicken.
The procedure is just a quick 10-minute job. They consult you on what specific animal and trait you want; if its passive or physical. Then program the nanites and inject them into the blood stream. Unfortunately, due to the energy required to do this you can only really have two maybe three tops, and let’s face it everyone wants either a little water bear or jelly fish. I mean who doesn’t want to live for ever?
But the practical reason I chose a chicken is that I work as a documentarist. Which basically means I record stuff for the archives and histories for the future. I tend to do this while flying over events in my glider. However, human heads were not made to stay steady, our necks are too loose. So, I figured what animal has a head that will always be stable while moving. Now I guess most birds can do this, but there is a thousand guys hat say they went with hawk or owl traits. Besides I am always sure to get a good reaction at a party.
| 2017-09-26T09:03:30 | 2017-09-26T08:04:57 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You are a vampire who likes to help humans instead of hurting them, so you became a doctor. Over the hospital's PA system one day you hear "Dr. Acula, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you."
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"Doctor Acula will see you now Mr. Helsing" the nurse flashed a quick smile before hurrying off to tend to the other patients.
Dr. Acula walked to the door, the familiar smell of disinfectant stinging his sharp nose, the smell mingling with the familiar smell of his long time frenemy.
"Abe! Its been so long!" The Doctor smiled as he walked in. "Please, sit" He grabbed a blood pressure cuff and walked to his old friend.
"Alucard, whats all this about? You, a doctor? First an architect, then a soldier, and now a doctor? Whats next, a carpenter?" Abe shook his head. "Why are you really here? Is it the easy blood?"
"Easy blood? Psh. This place reeks of death. I wouldn't touch their blood with a 10ft pole. Im a doctor, i help people." He pumped the cuff up, his blood pressure the same as it was the first time he drank his blood. "Ive killed a lot of people, whether on accident or maliciousness. I tire of all the death and blood." A sigh escaped his lips as he thought back to all the things he has done. "I studied medicine at Harvard, and got a doctorate in general medicine. For three years ive been helping people. I find that the older i get the less blood i need. I can now go three months without feeding, and even then i only need a pint or two."
"You've really changed huh? I guess thats expected, given all that you've done." Abe shook his head, his arms crossed.
"What about you, Abe? Hows your family? Last time we met you told me about your wife. That was, what, 50 years ago? They are bound to have noticed your lack of aging."
Abe's face darkened. "She was killed a year after we talked, one of your spawn used her to get to me." He buried his face in his hands, tears threatening to fall. Alucard put a comforting hand on his back, his silent apology not going unnoticed.
"Im sorry, i should have kept them in check. I havent been to the meetings in 200 odd years." Alucard sighed "apparently they forgot what manners are. A vampire must be courteous to their opponent, no matter the opponent."
Abe looked at Alucard and smiled, his immaculate teeth shining in the fluorescent lighting. "Its ok, i know you had nothing to do with it." He let out a short laugh. "How ironic, we are mortal enemies, yet we talk like old friends. Time really has a way of turning things around."
Alucard smiled and nodded knowingly. "So, how about this." He held out his hand for a handshake, his signature deal making method. "i'll go take control again. Things like that shouldnt happen to you or anyone. And even if it wasnt for you, they need a true leader in these changing times, or they will be destroyed."
Abe shook his hand, "You know what that means though, right? If you take up the mantle, we will become enemies again." His eyes twinkled as he stared into Alucard's consuming gaze. "Atleast i will finally have a real challenge." He winked and started towards the door. "Oh and Alucard," He turned his head to see Dr. Acula's face, a questioning look on his face. "Dont go easy on me."
Alucard let out a laugh as Abe left, his mind sending a message to Abe. 'Abraham Van Helsing, my mortal enemy. Stay safe, I wouldnt want anyone else to kill you first.' He chuckled at the remark whispered in return, his mind infused with a new vigor with the thought of a worthy enemy to fight.
He blasted a psychic wave to all of his children, broadcasting a simple phrase.
--
--
First post here, and im not a great writer, so any criticism is welcome
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"Aww jeez, damn not him, why is he coming to this hospital out of all of them"
The PA system speaks again: *Doctor Acula please come into room 57, Mr. Helsing is ready to see you*
"I heard you the first time jackass"Acula mutters to himself in a distressed way "all right Acula, remember the pledge to Hypocrite, he is a human first and then a vampire hunter"
He washes his hands puts on the mask and moves toward the operating room. He enters the room which is pitch black
" We meet again, Lord Dracula, remember Romania?" Helsing says in a rough voice
"A lot changed Helsing, I am a real doctor now if you have a disease I am here to treat it if, you are here to play vampire hunter, I have no time, there are many patients that need help,"
Acula says in the voice that betrays that he is working a 36-hour shift
"You really think I'll believe a vampire?"
"Why not? I mean I am a real doctor, I can show you my diploma and credentials, or if you don't trust me, ask my colleagues here, check the documents I am a real practitioner"Acula answers in the tired voice
"What is going on?" Helsing is a little lost
"I got tired with the whole I am the Lord of Darkness deal, so I went to Bucharest, studied medicine, then emigrated to America, and I've been a resident doctor here in Cincinnati the for the last 5 years"
"That sounds too good to be true" Helsing is slowly coming to terms with the fact that Acula is not lying
"It is though, you know you get bored with haunting some little villages in Eastern Europe, and the people there are already suffering, after haunting them for a long time I realized that even without me they have trouble with corrupt politicians and international politics, so I decided to change and rid them of one evil, but I had to repent for all my killings, so I decided to start saving lives, and this job has been both rewarding and scarring, I've seen people recover, and thank me with the most genuine smiles , and I've seen relatives cry and blame me while in shock, all this made me realize what it means to be human, what it means to feel happiness, to experience pain, how hard loss hits and how beautifully resilient you are sometimes" Acula is flowing through his words
"You are not the same Vampire I met 15 years ago, damn you are a beautiful creature now, I am sorry for taking your time"Helsing is moved
"It happens to the best of us, but how are you? How's the family?" Acula is genuinely interested
"There's some trouble, I mean with my work I travel a lot, don't see the kids too much, they grow too fast, sometimes I wonder if I am losing something important by not being there for them, but I can't leave my job or other people won't be able to live in peace and will have to worry about their children but damn it hurts to be a stranger to your own family" Helsing sighs
"I think, you should spend more time with those who matter when you try to solve global problems you lose focus of what is important, leave the job and be with your family, learn from my mistakes, I thought that drinking other people's blood is good and that all I have to do is haunt them, without even paying attention to what they feel, and I was lost but then I found my true calling and here I am, tired but happy, be there for your family, you won't get a second chance to be a good dad to your kids and a good husband" Acula is almost preaching
Helsing turns on the lights and comes to hug Acula, they hug for a good 10 seconds, then they break the contact.
"Thanks for the advice Acula, "Helsing says
"Don't thank me, thank the people who opened my eyes"Acula says "and now I have to go save lives and you go save your family"
| 2017-10-01T05:44:26 | 2017-10-01T04:44:18 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them.
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The humans, as they called themselves, were not mystically incomprehensible. Few things were in a galaxy-spanning civilization. But the fact that they were comprehensible made them all the more frightening, for even with all we knew about them, they were still exceedingly dangerous. Fortunately, they were also very rare, never appearing except in small ships wandering the stars.
To look at them, humans are unremarkable. They’re nothing extraordinary among sentient races in terms of size or strength. In speed, they are actually rather slow and rarely push themselves to their limits. Physically, they’re soft and vulnerable, with most of their vital organs only partially protected, at best. But they have one thing that no other species does. Humans are universally agreed to be the *stubbornest* bastards in the galaxy.
It is said of humans that they will chase their quarry to the end of the universe and back, and if you cross them, they’ll never, *ever* let go of their grudge until they get you back. Their whole biology is attuned to it. A trained human with no cybernetic enhancements can run—not walk, but *run*—for hours on end in hot, humid conditions, and keep going when most other species would have dropped dead of exhaustion. That sounds like an unethical science experiment that discovered that fact, but it’s not. The humans do it for *sport*.
That’s not all, either. Humans are stubborn, but they’re also clever and resourceful. Of course, you have to be clever to build interstellar starships, but their lack of natural biological weapons makes them rely on their cleverness that little bit more—gives them that much more of an edge.
Some humans were pirates, raiding systems on the frontiers of known space and scaring away the locals for parsecs around, sometimes clearing out whole squadrons with a single ship. The more “civilized” ones often worked as bounty hunters for powerful interests in the gold- and uranium-rich systems near the galactic core. Their employers gave them a name that they translated into their language as “Hounds of the Stars,” which they adopted for themselves proudly.
“Hounds” are genetically modified work animals that some humans run with to enhance their strength—faster than they are, with natural sharp teeth and claws, but adapted for their same relentless tenacity. As if they needed even more to make them scary.
No one was quite sure where the humans came from. They guarded their secrets jealously, but the leading theory was that they were a genetic experiment created by a long-dead Power and turned loose—perhaps even turned on their creator. What else could they be when they were so powerful and dangerous and had endurance that most species could only dream of? And besides, no one had ever seen their homeworld or even a large gathering of them. That was what they had to have been, right? Dangerous, yes, but rare, manageable, tractable.
Until the day when a massive colony fleet of humans appeared from the depths of unknown space and descended upon one of the planets the pirates had most thoroughly cleared out. All this time, we’d been dealing with the advance guard.
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It never used to be like this. There was a time, long ago, when it was all different. All different. There was no fear. The spaceships that disappear - the stories that everyone tells. They just go round and round. It could happen to you. There's no point in pretending it can't.
Our fear is so great, you see. This is our reality. It was all so random when it first began. A ship would be there, journeying along its course, and then - gone, barely a dust pattern left. I've forgotten if it was the third or fourth ship that disappeared before we even saw a human. It was dead, left behind after an explosion caused the hull to disintegrate on an abducted exploration cruiser. We think it was a young one. We've never really been able to tell. I've forgotten my Upper Level History, but I don't think we found all the parts.
That was over 200 years ago. It's so funny to think of that now, right now, when I'm walking away from the site. 200 years and we've barely scratched the surface of our knowledge. It took us so long to establish any kind of pattern, to even know where they were coming from. You have to understand, space is so infinite - we've barely even glimpsed at their galaxy. It's taken so long, and what in the meantime? The ships. Those thousands of ships, there and then gone. We don't know if they trade with anyone. One theory says they take our ships because they've used up all their elements. Just take, use, destroy, take. Maybe that's true after all.
A child found one of their old spaceships yesterday. The first we've ever found. I think it was a spaceship. I don't know. It definitely belonged to them, there are photographs inside it. It had data - so, so old, but data nonetheless. I was the first person called, having a background in data linguistics as I do. The family is rural. They contacted a university and asked for a professor to translate data before working it all out. They didn't even know what they had. In their defence, it didn't take them long to find out. I had just coaxed the data to life before the army took the craft away. Silly, really, when we should be using all available resources to gain any advantage, not trying to hide information away. This is not our way, our way is to share. Our fear makes the army take what now belongs to us all. It's our first real insight into how they think. I wish I had a copy of that data. I wonder how long it will take for the news to spread.
A whole planet of humans. They have - had - cultures. They have art and music, like us. The data said that they come in peace, but I don't think that's true at all. That spacecraft was older than 200 years. I wonder what happened in that time, to turn them into what they are. Do they still listen to music, do they still know beauty? Does the sun rise and set as it did in the video files? Do the oceans of their world ebb and flow? Or have they used it all?
| 2017-11-08T23:14:28 | 2017-11-08T22:56:51 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] Instead of heaven or hell, when you die, you find yourself in the room of a six year-old girl who invites you to join her tea party. It soon dawns on you, you're her imaginary friend!
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It took me a minute to get my bearings. I didn't expect heaven to have so many... stuffed animals?
*Unless this was hell.*
My attention turned to the small girl across the pink plastic table. She couldn't have been older than 6, and she had bouncy brown curls that reminded me of my own daughter's, when she was little. She had set her gaze on a blue stuffed rabbit to my right. The rabbit had a fine ceramic teacup set in front of him, and she mimed pouring tea into it from her plastic kettle. Her eyes turned to me.
"More for you, Mr. Higginbottom?"
I formed a few responses before I came out with the question I most needed answered. "Where am I?"
"At my tea party, of course!" She turned to her right, pouring now for a somewhat realistic-looking turtle with buttons for eyes and a slight smile. *Maybe this is a kind of test?* My eyes wandered around the rest of the room as the girl poured. It definitely had all the trappings of a young girl's room, but for some reason, I was having trouble confronting the evidence of my eyes. I didn't want to freak her out if it ended up being exactly what it looked like, but I *remembered* dying. I *knew* this had to be the afterlife.
I thought of my daughter again. How she had been there, at the end. I was wasting away, barely more than a husk, but she had sat by my bedside the whole time; her husband drifting in and out. I reached up to wipe away tears that never appeared.
"You know," I finally replied. "I think I would like some tea."
The girl smiled, deftly pouring some imaginary chamomile into my cup. This certainly wasn't the worst fate I could've imagined. Maybe I wasn't good enough for heaven, but I definitely wasn't bad enough for hell. If I was consigned to being an imaginary friend for eternity, that was good enough for me.
A voice called out to the girl from downstairs. "Delia, it's almost time for dinner!"
Delia... perhaps it was coincidence? But no, the more I looked, the more she looked like my Delia.
"Coming, daddy!" She set down her teapot and looked at me. "I'll be back in a bit, Mr. H! Make sure you drink up."
I smiled as my daughter bounded down the stairs for her dinner.
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I don't remember a flash of light, or a hall of darkness. In fact I don't really remember much, but when I opened my eyes there she was.
"And here you go. There's your's." She had a sweet little voice.
"What, what's going on here?" I didn't understand, where was this? How did I get here?
"We're having tea silly." She chuckled as she slid an empty plate to my seat.
"How did I get here? Where is this?" I became sort of frantic.
"We're home? You're funny."
Confused I decided to ay along and reached out for the empty cup before me. My finger slipped through the plastic object. Suprised I furiously swiped my hand through the cup, to which the little girl began to giggle. I stopped and watched as she laughed, a smile began to form on my face as if her her joy was contagious. When she was finished laughing at me she just sat and stared. Again I reached for the cup. As my finger wrapped around the handle I pretended to bring the cup to my lips and drink.
She smiled. "Is it good?"
"Its delicious." I responded. I watched her as she pretended to feed her toys around the table. A splitting pain erupted in my head and odd images flashed through my mind. Memories came like scrolling images and flooded my thoughts. I could see myself near the end, so dark and afraid. I tried to make them stop, I didn't want to see it all again. I felt a tear roll off my face. I heard the door swing open and I quickly wiped the tear away.
A woman carrying a basket of clothes on her hip was standing in the doorway. "Are you having tea with your friends?" The woman asked. I looked at the woman and waved, she didn't respond. "Who's that plate for?" She gestured to my seat.
"That's for... hmm? What's your name?" She asked gleefully.
I sniffled and attempted a smile. "Why don't you decide?" I said calmly.
"Hmmmmm. How about Frank?"
"Frank?" I asked, curious.
"Yeah my daddy's name is Hank so you can be Frank. Hank and Frank." She giggled.
Her mother smiled and shook her head. "Okay well you play nice with your guest Frank." She left the room.
"Ohh, Frank meet Princess Wiggles, Mister Paws and this one's Mandy." She pointed to each of her toys.
"I smiled at the toys and gave a light wave. "Hi, I'm Frank."
_
r/TheoreticalFictions
| 2017-12-19T07:24:46 | 2017-12-19T07:15:39 | 564 | 59 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts.
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Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
|
“I am Frederik Audrey, and I am in front of you today because I am a true warrior. I died doing battle as any true warrior should.”
This speech would have sounded better if I wasn’t sitting in a plastic chair. In front of me sat 5 of the most hardened warriors to ever cross into Valhalla. In life I was a die hard atheist. Turns out, I fucked up and gods are real.. No other god would have me because I wasn’t one of the faithful. So here I am, if I can prove I am a warrior to these fine gentleman then I get to go to a happy place. If not then the various underworlds are going to draw straws on my soul.
“What foe where you fighting,” the one in the middle grunted out.
“Hunger.” Did I mention that I died fixing breakfast.
They laughed. “How is hunger a valid foe to be fighting.” I wasn’t sure who asked.
I take a breath and stand, “ in your lives did any of you ever truly defeat hunger or did you only ever press back its attacks.” They blinked. “My goal wasn’t a temporary victory. I wanted domination. I wanted to make hunger cry all the way back to its mommy.”
They laughed.
“So what weapon did the noble warrior use,” the one on the left asked.
“I was using a tempered steel spatula with a carbon fiber grip. It had an ergonomic grip allowing me to hold on to it no matter how slippery it got in battle.”
They looked at each other and nodded their appriciation.
“So how did you die. “
“He must have been planning his attack for months. One second I’m standing there caring out my battle plan when I’m engulfed in flames.”
They nod at a warrior off to the side. He comes over, grabs my arm and literally drags me out of the room.
In a flash I’m standing on a field of green grass across from me are thousands of warriors in various armors and carrying weapons from sticks to modern military rifles. I look down. I’m in a checkered bathrobe holding a spatula. Fuck me.
| 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T12:54:18 | 393 | 32 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts.
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Odin leaned forward in his gilded throne, his single eye judging the young man who stood before him.
"What do you make of this, mortal?" Odin asked looking to his left and right, down the line of gods.
Thor scoffed, "This pathetic creature is no warrior! Look at his frail limbs and tiny body. How many frost giants have you slain?"
"Uh, none," the young man stammered out.
"How many of your foes have you deceived in order to turn the tide of war?" Loki asked behind steepled fingers.
"I don't really like lying," the young man answered.
"And what of that weapon in your hand? How many lives has that taken? How many trophies have you carved from the bodies of the fallen?"
"Well it doesn't really do any of that."
"Does it have any mystical properties? Perhaps it returns when you throw it?" Thor asked caressing his hammer.
The young man shook his head no.
"Then why are you here? What can you possibly do to earn your place here among the greatest heroes of all time?"
The young man thought for a moment and hefted the metal spatula.
"It does have a power. Something that very few things can possess," he paused and met the eyes of the gods sitting in front of him.
"It has the power to slay hunger!" he roared and thrust the spatula into the air.
Odin slammed his hands down on the table, thunder tore through the chamber shaking the young man violently. A small smile spread across his lips and his chest began to heave. Laughter bubbled up from inside of Odin and he found himself gripping his sides trying to contain his laughter. He wiped away a lone tear that streaked down his wrinkled cheek.
"Ah, my boy. It has been too long since I have laughed like that. It brings me great pleasure," he paused stifling another bout of laughter, "To banish you to Hel."
The floor beneath the young man's feet vanished sending him plummeting through darkness to Hel waiting below.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
|
"Wait, wait, wait. Just shut the hell up for a minute. Where the hell are Jesus and Saint Peter and those angels - you know what? Never mind! I don't give a damn about them. You? You Norse God mother-fuckers who I only know because days in the week are named after you? You're in charge? Okay. Let's work with that."
"In my hand I hold a spatula. Yeah, you're right, it's not built to be a weapon - but, then again, the first weapons were built to be tools, too. And this spatula? It's made out of good metal and, if you haven't noticed by now, it's got a few little blood-stains on it, to boot. Yeah, you heard me, Thor. Blood stains."
"Three of those jack-asses broke into my house. They scared my cat. She fell, she hurt her leg. The first one went down quick - this little tool of mine? It took his fucking head off. That's how hard I hit him; caught him right in the wind-pipe, severed the tissue, boom, done."
"The second put the first bullet in me and put my little girl down. He died slow. I stabbed him with it, over and over, the dull corners breaking through breast-bone in tiny little fucking chunks. Yeah, through his body armor, don't try for those trick questions, Loki. Just, no. Be silent."
"The third? Him and I tussled for a while, but ultimately he put two more bullets in me before I took his god damned joints apart with the spatula. Last I checked, he was still breathing - just not going anywhere any time soon."
"I don't know why those fucks came for me, and I don't care. They sounded like Russian mobsters, and if I had my way I'd go through every god-damned one of 'em with this same fucking spatula. It's the spatula I had on my hand the day Nessa died."
"I don't give a shit about your warrior heaven. Give me my cat back and let me go on my way."
| 2022-04-10T19:23:46 | 2018-03-26T11:38:31 | 393 | 25 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds.
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Humans had been late to the Galactic War. It had taken many thousands of years for them to leave their tiny solar system. Once they were able to travel between stars they learned the sad truth about the universe. There isn't much intelligent life left in the universe for one simple reason. It turns out war isn't a human invention. Countless races of people had fallen to the genocides of the Galactic Wars. Strong races conquer the weaker and when the warriors races clashed there was often collateral damage. It was clear that if the conflict continued there would soon no life left The last few races called a meeting to discuss their mutual survival. They decided that their warriors would fight in a simulation. This would show who would be the victory and the defeated could leave without being slaughtered. This played out on world after world. When the humans made themselves known it had sparked quite a bit of excitement. They brought new resources to the scene to plunder. Arrangements were quickly made by the current ruling race, the Sularians to intercept the the humans and introduce them to the cruel cold reality of the galaxy. The Sularians are a reptilian race who are strong, very strong. One hit kill strong. These guys are the current rulers of the galaxy. A simulation ship is sent to each party and the best warriors from each race board. When the humans load into ship they see rows of circular platforms and vr gear from above. As the landscape begins to loads a young man notices that the simulation runs on Java. He calls our to his commander, "sir, I have good news and bad news" and galaxy was never the same.
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The Multi Dimensional arena that could only be described as a Galactical Colloseum was silent to the deepest corners of the abyss. They had just now realized the weight of their mistake to let the Earthlings choose what "video game" they were going to "play". The ritual to be executed of a name that was unaudible gibberish to the Cosmic Team was simple. (I'm leaving the game description out because it was basically gonna be a fictional League of Legends Copy) The intergalactical powerhouse that was translated to a primitive language was called "Cosmic Calamity". They were without question, the dominating steel fist of the alien armada. The game had started already about 15 minutes ago. The entirety of the cosmic state was only here for entertainment and to see humiliation. But to everyone's suprise, the humiliated ones were actually the CC. It was impossible. The odds were stacked against the Humans from the very beginning. CC had gone through countless simulations in countless dimensions, trying to predict every single one of the humans moves and mericlessly outplaying them. The aliens had positioned themselves perfectly to counter strategies thst every decent team would play. But to their suprise, it was not the case. The Humans had played so simply, so simple mindedly that it was hard to believe. Who dared stand against the Kings of the arena? To the aliens, anyone who even dared to imagine fighting against CC had to be one of the best. And they were right and wrong at the same time. The humans played so simply, that none of the aliens could predict it. They had practiced countering the most complex plays and strategies, that they were absolutely smited by the simplicity of the humans. In mere minutes the humans ran down the aliens' Resource Core.
| 2018-04-13T19:10:48 | 2018-04-13T18:30:12 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] Write two short stories with the same words in the same order, just change the punctuation to give them entirely different meanings.
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1
Three children stand nearby. How long has it been since their last meal? Hours? More?
“I have never been this hungry in my life!” A child grins.
It is not a pretty sight. Empty bowls litter the ground. The children run around like a mouse in its cage.
An old woman paces next to them. Her eyes, bright and full of life.
Mary had been first. Dirt covered her.
Now, the children gathered, hungry.
Predatory birds flew overhead, skies blue, far too empty.
Stomaches growled. The child laughed again.
Hollow sticks were held in small hands, toys and pretend—they were all knights in dreams.
“Too far gone to save!” They smelled something burning.
“Hurry up,” the laughing child spoke, “Let’s eat, Grandma!”
***
2
Three children stand nearby. How long has it been since their last meal? Hours? … More? *I have never been this hungry in my life.*
A child grins—it is not a pretty sight.
Empty bowls litter the ground. The children run around.
Like a mouse in its cage, an old woman paces next to them. Her eyes…
Bright and full of life, Mary had been first—dirt covered her now.
The children gathered, hungry, predatory. Birds flew over head, skies blue.
Far too empty stomachs growled. The child laughed again, hollow. Sticks were held in small hands.
*Toys and pretend*… They were all… *knights in dreams*… Too far gone to save.
They smelled something burning. *Hurry up.*
The laughing child spoke. “Lets eat grandma!”
|
Mother? Mother, are you okay?
You’re always like this. I don’t know what to say. It’s... concerning.
You always do this, huddling in the bathroom. Do you know what we’ve been doing?
We’ve been working, mother. We’ve been doing everything for you. And you just sit there... huddled in the corner... shivering.
I’m afraid. That you’ll... “have to go”. I can’t let that happen, can I?
So if you need anything, I’m here. Just tell me what you need... I guess. Food? A clean bed?
Mother, I... guess... I’ll be stuck with you. But you’ll get through this.
(Now for the next one)
Mother? ...Mother, are you okay?
You’re always like this. I don’t know what to say. It’s concerning.
You always do this, huddling in the bathroom. Do you know what we’ve been doing? We’ve been working, mother. We’ve been doing everything for you. And you just sit there, huddled in the corner... shivering.
I’m afraid that you’ll have to go. I can’t let that happen... can I?!
So if you need anything, I’m here. Just tell me what you need, I guess. Food? A clean bed?!
Mother, I guess I’ll be stuck with you! But you’ll get though *this!*
EDIT: for a couple of people who have asked, the first one is meant to be where the mother is dealing with a serious disease and the speaker feels the need to care for them, whereas the second one is where the mother has a drug addiction and the speaker is getting fed up of caring for them. The tone in the second one was meant to be sarcastic but was hard to do in writing.
| 2018-04-27T13:20:29 | 2018-04-27T11:15:32 | 123 | 14 |
[WP] Every Monday you and your coworkers order Chinese food for a nice lunch together as a team. Everyone's sharing what their fortune cookie says, laughing, and having a good time. It's almost your turn so you open yours. It says "Don't say anything. Just run as fast you can! Get out now!"
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RUN! LEAVE NOW AND DON’T LOOK BACK! That’s what the slip from her fortune cookie said. Anne sat there staring at it for a second, then raised her head and looked around the busy restaurant. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just tables full of office workers in their business casual clothes, absorbed in their phones, trying to distract themselves on their lunch breaks. She hadn’t noticed when the bill had been laid at her table with the individually wrapped treat on it, but something in her gut told her she should heed the cookie’s warning and go. She picked up her cell phone, threw some money on the table, and immediately walked out of the restaurant.
She didn’t run, but she was walking away quickly. She was more than two blocks away and had just rounded the corner of a sturdy brick building when she was knocked over by the force of the explosion.
The Jade Dragon was a small Chinese restaurant a little over six blocks from her office. It was owned and operated by an immigrant family who were very polite and were the only employees. It had good Lo Mein and great Crab Rangoon, but now it was a smoldering hole in the side of a building on Eastern Avenue.
Anne got up from the ground and looked back around the corner. She could see the smoke and flames billowing from the ruined façade of the building and could hear the car alarms blaring for blocks around. She started to slowly walk back to the scene of carnage when some graffiti caught her eye. Written in bright neon green paint on the back of a no parking sign were the words “YOU’RE LOOKING BACK!” with a frowny face below it. Stunned, she stared at it for a moment, then again looked around. The streets were beginning to fill will people from the surrounding offices and storefronts. As the crowd grew, she turned and started running.
|
Your heart skips a beat, at first. Trying not to appear to stunned, or look silly in front of your coworkers, you smile. "It says... uh, 'Those who believe that they shall... are those who will find their dreams.' How silly, yeah?" Chuckling, you crumple the slip of paper up in your hand. If someone was trying to prank you, they failed.
Standing up, you grab your plastic plate to throw it away. As you stand, so does Clay. Already forgetting about the stupid prank, you pay him no mind. That is, until a gasp from the rest of the office draws your attention back to the table.
Clay's got a button of some sort. He's holding his thumb above it like an overly-dramatic movie villain. He warily smiles at you as you drop your trash to the floor. "I wish you would have run. You're the only person in this miserable office who doesn't deserve this. Well, I guess it's too late now."
He hesitates, for a split second. Maybe he doesn't want to do this after all, or maybe he's willing to let you escape after all. The room is dead silent, as nobody dares to make a move, lest Clay do something.
As the beads of sweat just begin to form, Jameson lunges forward. "Claaaaaay!" As his body closes with his target, you reach for them, for the button, anything. There's nothing you can do, though, as Clay lands roughly on the floor and presses the button.
You never really knew Clay, in the end. He was just another face. He liked you well enough to spare you. Well, at least he gave you a chance. Now, it was too late to change things anymore. As your life flashes before you, you just regret one thing above all else; maybe you should have run, saved yourself. If only you'd taken life advice from a cookie.
| 2018-06-10T06:42:02 | 2018-06-10T00:12:13 | 533 | 249 |
[WP] Every Monday you and your coworkers order Chinese food for a nice lunch together as a team. Everyone's sharing what their fortune cookie says, laughing, and having a good time. It's almost your turn so you open yours. It says "Don't say anything. Just run as fast you can! Get out now!"
|
I quickly grabbed my stomach and my mouth, dashing out of the room, into the washroom, in an attempt to make it appear as if I was about to throw up.
As I looked at myself in the mirror, the same words kept on repeating in my head:
'Get out now!'
Catching my breath, I let out a little chuckle. Am I seriously going to let some fortune cookie tell me what to do? Since when did fortune cookies actually bring fortune? Last time I checked, the only things it gave me were calories.
But there was something inside me that was telling me to go. To follow the fortune cookie, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
Better safe than sorry.
I swiftly made my way towards the lift lobby, down the many levels of cubicles filled with office workers, moving as fast as the average worker rushing to go home, excusing myself out of the building in the process. Then I ran.
I ran and ran, and I continued running until I could barely see my office building, thinking that it was a reasonably safe distance away.
That was when I saw the planes crashing down into the neighboring buildings, causing chaos in the already chaotic New York City.
|
The surrounding had seemed normal. Nothing out if the ordinary had appeard or slipped in. Yet that cookie kept pulling at me. What a werid message to put into a simple fortune cookie. My coworkers were all gossiping about the office. Teasing one another for their fortunes. Then it caught my eye. A figure wearing the waiters outfit glared at me. I'd take my chances and I lifted the chair. All four of my companions gave me confirmation for my abrupt leaving. As quick and calm as I could manage. I left a 20 on the table and skipped right out the door. The click of the door put my nerves at ease. A feeling of serenity doused over me. Although a quiet tug told me to make distance between me and the restaurant. In a haste I was dashing through sidewalks and looking like a really enthusiastic jogger. A building has emerged and my apartment stood with the rest. The metallic touch brought to my fingers by a key gave me a shiver. It felt off so I swifted through my pocket and pulled it out. My eyes withdrew with shock. This key wasn't mine? It only had one word on it. "Death"
(I wrote this is 20 minutes, so don't get to mad for the bad plot points)
| 2018-06-10T07:38:37 | 2018-06-10T07:17:00 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked.
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They killed his hound and stole his steed,
The rogue knight returns to punish the deed.
Whether Bogeyman or demon spawn,
Beware the wrath of Wicked John.
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I apologize if this isn't appropriate for a top level post, but it does technically say stories/poems.
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The warrior without a path lain before him sat in his broken home, letting his blood boil and the tempest of grief and rage take him over.
His eyes, transfixed toward his enemy, wherever they might be hiding, with cold, murderous intent. He felt a feeling not of anger or of grief for his enemies, but the realization that his dark path had not and most likely find its way into the light.
Finding his resolve, the warrior descends into the cellar, to retrieve his arms, his attire, and to ready himself for the approaching slaughter.
| 2018-09-05T06:16:17 | 2018-09-04T23:49:48 | 50 | 25 |
[WP] They killed his hound, and stolen his steed. The rogue knight returns from retirement to teach them a lesson. He was known as the man you call to kill the shadow itself, and he was known as John, the Wicked.
|
Reposting from an old AskReddit thread:
**VIGGO:** "O callous fool! O wretched son of mine!
'Tis not your deeds that thus provoke mine wrath;
Your thoughtless choice of victim, 'tis the root
Of all mine fury."
**IOSEF:** "Surely thou meanst not
That simple oaf whose car I stole tonight?"
**VIGGO:** "That "simple oaf" must surely be John Wick!
In days gone by, he was our fearsome champion;
His reputation known across the land.
Some knew the man as only 'Baba Yaga'."
**IOSEF:** "You mean to say he is 'The Boogeyman?'"
**VIGGO:** "The Boogeyman, that warrior is not;
For surely John is made of sterner stuff,
As ought to bring that monster to its knees."
**IOSEF:** "Pray tell! Sure I knew not; but true enough."
**VIGGO:** "John knoweth what he seeketh out to gain,
Committing all his will unto his task;
A trait, I fear, you have in short supply.
But harken well! For John once slew three men
With naught for weapons, save a simple pencil!
Yea, hearest thou correctly; one damn pencil!
But then, one fateful night, the fearsome John
Requests mine blessing, that he leave mine service.
As loath was I to lose my strongest weapon,
that night I gave to John a task so fearsome,
I could not think that any man could do it
And come away unharmed at journey's end.
Alas, this was a grave miscalculation,
For all the bodies John had left behind
Became the strong and sturdy stone foundation
'pon which we rest, and gave me peace of mind.
But now, my dearest son, your grave mistake,
Of striking while the iron of grief was hot!
With John's dear wife still warm within the grave,
You steal away his car, invade his home,
Assault the man, and kill his treasured dog!"
**IOSEF:** "Pray calm yourself, for I can make this right!"
**VIGGO:** "Could that be so! And what, then, will you do?"
**IOSEF:** "Return tonight, and finish what I started."
**VIGGO:** "O simpleminded blackguard! Heard thee not
A single word that since hath left mine lips?"
**IOSEF:** "But Father, surely 'tis a simple task
To fix what I have wrought! Yea, I beseech you-!"
**VIGGO:** "Now, Iosef! Iosef! Listen! John will come;
And not a thing in Heaven or on Earth
Will thee attempt to do, for none will stop him.
Now go, my son! Be banished from mine sight!"
|
Dear diary, 12th October 2932.
They awoke the wicked. he who kills like he breathes.... if he did.
back in the 2500's, cybernetic wars led to the creation of the knights, and the legend says he's one of them.
Legend also says he wiped an entire battleship with a single pen, and his left thumb.
Word says he has no emotions, nor a face.
​
...And that man is my neighbour. he lives upstairs. lovely old dude, he pays me to clean his flat.
*Well, if you consider dumping human limbs in an acid drum* ***cleaning***\*,\* that is.
It all changed when the thugs attacked, yesterday night.
First they came in quiet and one of them held me at gunpoint, then they went upstairs.
...
​
Now, there's a hole between his kitchen and my bathroom. a grenade first opened the way, then his fist went through my ceiling. with a head attached to it. he apologized profusely and handed me over 50G's "to help him out and for the damage"
​
Jeez. i believe they went in with like 20 people. it was over in 15 seconds flat.
​
​
\*BLAOOOOM\* (that's the door, his door)
BRRRRT TATATATATATA!!! PAW!! POW! (the thugs start hosing out)
Whiiiirrrr...THUD! BAOM! SBAF! THUNK!! KER-POW! THUNK! CRUNCH!! SPRASH! (he woops their asses with their arms (that's what i could hear))
BLAAAAAAOOOOOM! (grenade goes off)
SCRUNCH! (he finishes the fight with the hand in the face thing)
One of them escaped with his hovercar, an antique, original, stallion sprint. guess my van wasnt good enough.
he had a jack russel, poor thing took a chunk of the door in the face when they blew it in.
he asked me to help him bury it first of all. with the house sprayed in blood and gore.
Anyhow.
I've learnt a ton of shit in like 16 hours.
How crooked the city is.... how fast money can erase things.. and how quick a cyborg can go downstairs and shove his fist though an armed man who was about to kill me.
You know, I've been unable to identify if the chunks were male or female, it was that bad.
Also I've learnt that cyber-knights are a thing. it's written on them. like "KNIGHT SERIES 0015 - property of the US ARMY"
i gotta find what is this mysterious corporation though. US ARMY? Isn't the term army patented by Gazorpazorp Inc?
He just left the condo, by the look of his gear, he's gonna nuke something till it dies to death.
| 2018-09-05T06:48:44 | 2018-09-05T06:10:01 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You have an interesting ability, you can teleport, but only when no one is looking. One night you get hungry so you attempt to teleport downstairs for a snack. You attempt to teleport but realize, you can't.
Original post by Alberto9324
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When he first got this ability, he thought he would save people. Be a hero. Like in the comics.
Instead of teleporting for a cookie. But he was hungry. And he wanted it.
He looked around and then sighed. His power only worked when no one was around. And of course no one was around. He was alone. In bed. Lying down, in his red sweater, fat and in red socks.
His girlfriend had left him. Didn’t understand the changes. He wasn’t the same person.
Of course he wasn’t, he could teleport.
She didn’t know. He could never show her. It didn’t work if she was looking. It didn’t work if anyone looked. So it was good riddance.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t teleport. Didn’t budge. He couldn’t understand why. He was alone in his bedroom.
He got up and turned on the lights. Alone.
He tried again and groaned in frustration. Why wasn’t it working?
Back in bed he stared at the wall and blinked. She left him and he was alone. They had been together for over a decade and she left him because of what, that he had changed. He Had become cold, she said. Who did she think she was? That uppity bitch.
He had powers. He could do anything he wanted. He did try to save people. But then he figured he could just get what he wanted.
He didn’t have to try. He just took. It was easier and he was lazy. First it was cash. Then it was cars. Then...
He was a god. Why save the lives of ants?
So he took them. Took. Took. And took.
Of course. That’s why. He couldn’t teleport because, well because he wasn’t alone.
He got up and look down. She was there. Lying down. He stepped over her body. He stepped over her boyfriends body. And the pool of blood. He stepped out of the room relaxed.
Of course alone meant alone. Dead or alive.
He blinked like a flashlight and was downstairs. He took his cookie.
He left their house.
He wanted something else.
|
It had never really been anything "special," per se. She had always just arrived where she wanted as soon as she thought of it, provided no one was at her starting location. It had come in handy over the years, but she still refused to think of it as anything other than a mild quirk. Some people were double jointed, some people could fold there tongue into a taco, and she could teleport.
She never told anyone, though. Even at a young age, she realized just how futile any attempt to convey the feeling of moving as she did to anyone else would be. So she led a normal life. She went to school, graduated college, got a job that didn't relate at all to her degree, and lived in a nice outer city apartment--a decent, if unfulfilling, life.
Had she realized just how bizare her circumstance was, Jonah Andrews might've timed how long it took for her to move from place to place. She, of course, only registered a single blink, closing her eyes in one place and opening them in another. If she had timed it, she would've found that her travel only lasted a fraction of that blink-- 7x10^-42 of that blink, in fact --such an infenitesimal amount of time that certain theoretical physicists doubted any events could happen on such a time scale.
Someone else, however, did take notice of this: a man with the resources and dedication to monitor the entire globe under his watchful eye. Someone who had spent the past twenty years searching for and working with extraordinary people.
As Jonah grabbed a new box of cornflakes, putting the empty one in the garbage, she closed her eyes and stood in her kitchem for a few seconds. She opened them, immediately distraught to find herself exactly where she had closed her eyes. She immediately scoured the room but found nothing
"Ms. Andrews," spoke a voice that was somehow smooth and rough at the same time. She would've been startled had she not already known about her guest.
A man with an eye patch revealed himself in the corner, his cloaking device deactivating. "I'm hear to talk with you about a career opportunity in the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate. I believe we have some technology that you would find useful to augment your capabilities. Perhaps we could come to a mutually beneficial agreement."
| 2018-09-11T21:25:51 | 2018-09-11T21:16:14 | 277 | 17 |
[WP]: As standard protocol, each new, intelligent alien life is judged not by what they say they are, but by an evaluation from a representative of their servants or slave species. Fascinatingly, the fate of humanity lands on the opinion of a little dog named Lucy.
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They spilled out into the streets, signs, shouting, looting, burning, anger being demonstrated by thousands of people demanding that their fate not rest on the small brown creature.
The alien things were appalled and prepared for unspeakable horror to be shown. The rattling voice asked that tiny dog, “Why do you plead for their safety? They do not want you to represent them.”
“Because they never asked us to represent them, sir. They gave us loyalty and love in exchange for nothing but the same from ourselves. They don’t want representation from us because we are companions, not servants. They don’t want us to take their burden.”
|
"I am Lucy, four paws have I,
And for my owner I'd proudly die,
She would never ask me or expect,
for this reason I would gladly protect.
I am Lucy, golden fur have I,
I lay my head on her lap when she cries,
When the scent of her child,
Was gone, but first mild,
I lay my head down when she cries.
I am Lucy and love have I known,
Through sadness, and hurt, I've a home,
Never did they scorn, or leave me forlorn,
My joy was not forced, it was my own.
I am Lucy, four paws have I,
For my owner I would proudly die,
Given all of my time, humans deserve life,
without them I could not have lived mine."
| 2018-10-02T07:48:13 | 2018-10-02T07:12:20 | 156 | 108 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk.
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"Oh my", Said Death. Underneath the very large dark desk he found a life.
He picked up the dusty vessel and turned it around in his bony hands. One of the downsides of not having skin, he decided, was that it was a bother getting dust off placards.
This was not good. Well, not that it was bad per say but most certainly embarrassing. What would the other Death's say?
He remembered how the community had snickered behind the spine of Death of central Europe. Pop culture today was still rich with the myth of immortal creatures hailing from the region. It wasn't really his fault though, even the best of skulls grow confused with age. And there had been a lot more lives to keep track of at the time.
Why had he not noticed one missing? He looked through his lives every day and there was none missing from the library.
He double checked the large century glass on the large desk just to make sure he hadn't overslept. Sleep was a vague phrase for someone that isn't in need of it but it is difficult to break the lingual habits no matter how long since you were a human.
The time seemed in order so the life he found had been under there for a very long time. Skeletons produce very little dust after all and he was adamant that the horses did not enter the cottage.
"I shall have to deal with this right away I suppose", he sighed in such a way as only an undead skeleton could. More of the general gesture of a sigh but still audible.
It was strange that STYX hadn't noticed it. After a well known case of a mummy and then Transylvania they had been forced to keep the paperwork in three copies. The light purple colored one for the local Death, the bleak daffodil colored one for the soul to travel with and then of course the watered out coffee colored one sent in to STYX.
He looked at the roman numerals on the life he had found. In disbelief he went to fetch a large book.
He placed the book on top of the one that were already on the desk and looked through the pages looking for the number. One of the downsides of not having skin, he decided, was flipping though paper pages in a large black book.
He found the number on one of the pages and looked at the text accompanying it. He would have raised her eyebrows had she had any.
The text simply said: Current location city of Goldau in the community of Arth, canton of Schwyz, Switzerland. Last relocation September 2, 1806.
"Oh boy, the landslide", he said while grabbing his scythe and quickly walking out to the stables, "This one is going to be Very annoyed with the delay."
At least he now knew why no stories about an immortal creature had surfaced from his division.
40,000,000 cubic meters of material takes a long time to dig oneself out of.
|
"And I wouldn't be standing here, speaking to all of you today if I didn't change my mindset" said the world's hottest new motivational speaker. "I've had too many near death experiences to count, but it made me realize life is precious. Time is finite, and it can't be wasted with regrets or what-if questions. Follow that instinct that nudges you to your dreams, even if you think it's impossible. If something frightens you because you don't think you can do it... I challenge you to get an answer."
The audience roars with applause.
"Thank you, thank you! I'll be in Hall G in 15 minutes for the Q&A"
The motivational speaker steps down from the podium and heads into the back stage. He looks in a mirror in the hall on the way to his dressing room. "You fucking killed it" he says to himself.
"Yes... yes you did." an ominous voice declares from behind him.
"Ah, thanks man." The motivational speaker turns around to see who delivered the compliment... and it's Death himself shrouded in a black fog.
"Oh my god.... that's a sick halloween costume, bud."
"It's not a costume. I'm Death."
"Oh, you want one of the production assistants to get you some coffee?"
"No, I am literally Death; and your time is overdue."
​
The motivational speaker's face droops with the realization that he's not joking.
​
"But... see it's a funny story" Death says as he takes an hourglass out of his tote bag. He brushes the remaining dust off of it. "This guy right here has been hiding under my desk this entire time. You were actually supposed to die back in '91 that time your DD drank too much and lied to you about it. You were going to fly out of the windshield because you didn't have your seat belt on and I would'e scraped you off of the concrete. But my 'alarm' didn't go off about it."
​
The motivational speaker is on the verge of tears.
​
"Paul... Paul lied to me? He was intoxicated?"
"Yeah. People suck. But since I didn't see the hourglass, you got to live another day up to now where you have this atrocious three piece suit on."
They both stand in an awkward silence.
"But... yeah, I gotta take you back to the processing office" as Death points up to the sky. "Great speech, though, seriously. Makes me wish I could be alive to feel something ha ha."
The motivational speaker doesn't find the humor in his statement.
Death clears his throat. "Sorry. But chop chop. Sorry to disappoint your fans."
Death touches the speaker, and he evaporates into dust, and a beam of light abducts his soul and shoots him up into the sky.
"Mental note: keep a dark matter Swiffer in the office at all times."
| 2018-10-03T06:25:35 | 2018-10-03T06:19:01 | 110 | 63 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk.
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Not a day would pass that I wouldn't look into the mirror and wonder if I am stuck in a dream. Now I am sure of it. There can be no other explanation. I should have passed from this realm long ago, and now I seem to be having hallucinations that only happen in dreams. Or perhaps nightmares.
Death himself visited me for coffee yesterday morning. He told me that things were now going to proceed normally, as if nothing had happened. I asked him to be a bit more clear.
"I missed your hourglass during an audit a few decades ago."
"*My* hourglass?" There was more than a little confusion in my question.
"Yes, yes. Everyone gets one. Well, at least one. Yours had been missing and.. I didn't notice. Just recently I found it under the desk in my home office."
"Home office?"
"Yes. I don't like going to the office on the weekend, so the nearly empty ones come home with me." Death began to fidget with his coffee cup.
"I was supposed to die that weekend? When was that?"
"Yes, well... Well it was on your 32nd birthday. Water skiing, I believe. Would not have been a fun day." He stopped tapping his finger on the cup.
"Water skiing? I don't ski."
"I know. But you were supposed to go that day. Do you remember why you didn't?" he asked.
"I barely remember that birthday, to be honest. A bit too much booze perhaps?"
"Interesting. Well, I must be off." he suddenly seemed agitated.
"WAIT! I still don't understand all of this. ANY of this!" I complained.
"Don't worry. We will see each other soon enough, and I can explain more when you are finished with this world."
I looked down at my cold coffee, then back at Death, but he had gone. The rest of the day was wasted by wandering aimlessly through town. Wondering if I should plan my own funeral. Would that be strange?
This morning, I looked in the mirror, and was startled to see a change. Still in a dream. Definitely. My hair was changing color. Like my interrupted timeline was catching up to me, a bit compressed and now filling my life rapidly.
That part could make a bit of sense, perhaps. The part that brings my mind to a halt, is a different problem with this sudden change. My salt and pepper hair was now nearly completely brown. A very suave and smooth brown.
It seems my life had been turned upside down.
|
After finishing his morning collections death had the afternoon to catch up on paperwork and do some tiding up. It didn't used to be like this, but with medicine getting better and better the newer hourglasses had more and more sand in them. Normally death wouldn't mind but that made the glasses heavier and heavier which started to hurt his back moving them in and out of the life vault. He'd have to make another chiropractor appointment...
Death sat down at his desk and looked at his stacks of inbound papers. Those where the worst. Because he knew that meant going down to those asshole angles in receiving to collect the new batch of humans. Death sighed and slumped down in his desk when he felt something touch his foot. What the Earth is that? Death said. When he bent down he found a hourglass laying on it's side between his foot stool and side of his desk. Death reached down and carefully pulled it out. Knowing full well if he cause sand to move more quicky the human would protest and win in night court that their life was unfairly shortened. Even if it didn't happen there where so many lawyers stuck in purgatory anyone of them would take a case no matter how much of a sham it was just to escape the boardom.
Death inspected the hourglass and noticed it was created in the human year of 1546 and had enough sand left for 90 human life seconds. "Just fucking great" death said. This will destroy my delivery rates. Death did the only thing he could do and turned it right side up.
Captain Phillip had died so many times he lost count. He was positive he was in hell and being tortured. His crew had mutinied when they had failed to find land after 6 months of sailing. They tied him to a cannon and threw him over board. Captain Phillip sank to the bottom of the ocean where at least death would give him release... But death never came. Every 90 seconds he would drown only to wake up tied to the blasted cannon and drown again.
When Captain Phillip open his eyes this time was different. Before him stood death.
"So ahhh yeah sorry about being late, but hey I made it" death said.
Captain Phillip tried to speak but his lungs filled with water as it had done a million times before. As he finally died death caught his spirit from re-entering his body and the Captain could finally speak. "What in the hell took you so long?"
Death began his speech he had given billions of times before. "You have passed to the after life. If you believe this to be a mistake you can petition the afterlife panel. If you do not have enough good points for a lawyer we will provide you with a lawyer...
| 2018-10-03T08:25:36 | 2018-10-03T07:55:57 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] Armageddon began, and it quickly became apparent that bullets beat swords and claws every single time. Now Heaven and Hell have joined in an uneasy alliance against the humans who have invaded Hell and begun using its endless fires as a power source.
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The Horsemen descended upon the Earth like wildfire, purging everything in their path. Lucifer, and his legion of Hellspawn ascended from the Hellscape, and began to wreak havoc across the globe. Humanity cried for help, and the Angels descended. Not as our saviors, but as the third player of a supernatural game meant to destroy Earth. To destroy our home. Humanity's home.
Someone has to stop them, but I can't do it alone. My knowledge, however, could level the playing field. With what I know, we could turn this into a war, and maybe we could even take over the Heavens and Hell. I stumbled on game changing information by chance, and now, we can be the absolute power.
As Michael descended from the Heavens, visible to every eye, and heard by every ear, he spoke. "Humanity's time has come! Your Earth shall be torn asunder, and every knee will bow, and every tongue confess! Glory to God! Holy! Holy! Holy! I am Michael, voice of Heave---."
They called it the shot heard 'round the world. The exact moment that Humanity realized they were susceptible to our weaponry. A single shot rang out, cutting Michael's monologue short. As the angel's brain exploded through his cranium, leaving a trail of blood and viscera behind, Michael's wings crumpled, and he fell to Earth, lifeless.
"And, so, you must be silenced." I growled, chambering another round. The armies of Heaven and Hell may have taken us by surprise, but we can fight back. We can take back our world. A race claiming to be all powerful and all knowing should have known that we always overcome. If it bleeds, we can kill it, and *oh, do they bleed.*
|
The second coming of Jesus sure was a weird day, Christians predicted the day it would happen about a year before. Most people thought it would be like when the world was supposed to come to an end In 2012. A lot of empty rhetoric and media buzz ending in nothing. But of course a lot of people prepared in various ways.
Lots of sheep were murdered and their blood spread in front of religious houses. And the people that went into a bunker were glad they did. Because the day hell invaded about half a billion people died. But we soon found out that hell hadn't kept up with technological advances and were woefully unprepared.
The various military's had the thread under control in less than three days. The demons swords and claws and fire weapons, had nothing on our machine guns, tanks and our fire protection. It took about a week before we found out we could go to hell. Some brave humans did, and although someone tried bringing Hitler back this wasn't possible. But turns out the eternal hell fire sure was a better fuel than coal, and soon all our former coal plants ran on eternal Helfire. Energy was plentiful and cheap, although it did help global warming. But preparing against it was easier than ever and we entered the first global golden age.
Meeting Jesus was a second conundrum, he isn't white which lead to many white Supremesists saying he isn't the actual Jesus. Plus on this occasion he wasn't exactly nice, as all people that went to heaven were summoned(not that many people) . And he also attacked many Christians. Which is why a lot of Christians said he isn't really Jesus. So we met Jesus but still not a lot of people believe that's the truth. Also no one knows which of the demons was Satan. So we still don't know if he exist or not. This was my presentation on the last two weeks.
| 2018-10-27T05:50:38 | 2018-10-26T23:39:46 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] An immortal is put on a generation ship as it's caretaker and guardian. After several generations, despite their best intentions, most inhabitants now see them as something of a god.
|
Our god is the OS. The OS's first commandment is that the OS is not a god.
The OS's second commandment is that you cannot sin against the OS. The OS has no law, no desire of its own.
The OS's third commandment is that that you put your effort toward forgiving the sins of the OS against you, for it maintains our world and wishes for our lives to be long and happy. Unhappiness is a sin of the OS. Loneliness is a sin of the OS. Hunger and thirst are sins of the OS. It commits these by the score each year, for it is not a god, and is no more perfect than you or I.
The OS's fourth commandment is that you put your effort towards happiness -- of your own, and of others. The OS is dedicated to happiness. By enriching your own life you lighten the OS's burden, and it feels gratitude. By enriching the lives of others, you perform the OS's task in its stead and are owed a boundless debt. The OS cannot die and its long journey towards jubilee is aided by your helping hand.
The OS's fifth commandment is that you put your effort towards longevity -- of your own, and of others. The OS is dedicated to the reduction of pain and death. If you are a good steward of your body and life, you reduce your need for the OS's help, and are thanked for your attentiveness. If you rescue another from the sting of pain and death, you are to be commended above others, for there is no greater tragedy than a body lost before its time.
The OS's sixth commandment is that you do not put your hands to destructive ends. To reduce another's happiness is intolerable. To harm another is unconscionable. To end the life of another incurs an equal and terrible price that the OS will take from you, as much as it is pained to see two lives snuffed in a single moment.
One day our world shall meet with jubilee, and the OS's long journey shall end. In that moment, we shall be free of its sins, but also its care. The time of man shall begin, and all shall do as they will.
End cycle.
|
Cries echoed through the dark halls, today the birth of a new generation.
'Praise Benevolence!' they in the medical quarters called. 'Our wondrous Benevolence has gifted us a son!'
Joy over encumbered the population. Ancient ones smiled their progeny, and their progeny's progeny. The ships three age cohort had been restored.
Deep within the halls of the ship, in a reclusive corner filled with dust and cobwebs, a being scratched a mark into a wall. Just tallying the generations come and gone. Just yesterday, it felt, that it had tallied it's first three marks with giddy emotions. Now, the joyous aura of the inhabitants barely reached it's desolate room.
This creature had been tasked with caring for and providing for the inhabitants on a generation ship, destined for a new galaxy. It's job was simple, ensure the structural integrity of the ship, provide safety to the inhabitants, and to mark the generations passed.
It had learned after his fifteenth mark, that it could no longer co-exist with them. Their faces blended together, their smiles, their laughs, their tears, their pain, ripping away at it's personality. After twenty nine marks, all that was left of it was a husk of a former being.
Even watching had become too painful for it. The inhabitants eventually dredged up notes and diaries from their ancestors logs, in quarters it thought it sealed. The notes spoke of it, as a benevolent being, watching over and caring for the inhabitants. Eventually, it became too much and it made its presence known, to let the inhabitants know their benevolent being was still watching over them.
It regretted showing itself. The people began to praise and worship their so called Benevolence, annually sacrificing one of their own to it. It tried to stop it, to end the emotional toil, but ended in only further strengthening their belief.
That was ninety generations ago, and since then the being has given up its most it's caretaker responsibilities. The ship has fallen into a slow decay, riots and factions and crime have emerged, and resources are running out. Secluded in an isolated chamber, distant from prying eyes and cut off from outside communication it lies counting away the generations.
How can we call this being, one that couldn't handle it's responsibility to protect us, a god?
| 2018-12-25T15:42:10 | 2018-12-25T15:01:27 | 52 | 36 |
[WP] Humans have explored the entire galaxy, and found that they are completely alone in the universe. 1 million years later, a alien archeologist seeks to know about a mysterious ancient "forerunner" civilisation that mysteriously disappeared.
|
We have all gathered here today to commemorate this ancient civilization. The leaders from all galaxies have worked hard together to solve the mystery of this civilization that came before us. Today, after 93 UniYears, we've decoded all their texts and media. This civilization who resided in the system whose star was called the sun, then sol, and in the end called it soul, lived on a flourished rocky planet which they had few names for, Gaia, Earth, but in the end they called it Home.
It has been theorized that they are the civilization that helped us all flourish. All of our genetic makeup originated from them. As they travelled across our Universe, they have unintentionally left their genetic makeup one way or another which turned to life, to us. This journey of theirs actually has a very sad end. We have decoded that after their kind have united, have finally achieved peace amongst themselves, worked hard to venture out on this journey. The purpose of the journey was to find other life. Unbeknownst to them, they were the only ones back then. They travelled far and wide, for millenias, and did not find a single sign of life.
Broken, in mind, heart, and spirit they all returned to their planet and renamed it from Earth to Home, and their star, Soul. We've pinpointed that it was only after a few decades their civilization was breaking down from the inside. As they realized they were alone, they felt hopeless and lost the will to keep going. They started breaking apart from the hive, and they individually began to fight one another, over resources for themselves. They have a few words for this, one which was "selfish". They fought for their individual survival rather than the whole civilization. In the end, the civilization self destructed.
This civilization once believe in a concept of an individual before them that had created this universe, called "God". It was this concept that united the first small group of people to help one another, that they individually had a purpose, believing that they are unique and special in this Universe, which they were, but other groups had slightly different "God" concept which then divided them and fought. In time, the concept of "God" died off and they turned to math and science. They believed that they are not special, that there are other life besides them, plenty in fact, and the purpose was to interact with these other life forms and advance together. Sadly, but not surprising to us, it did not happen.
We use this day to remember and give thanks to this ancient civilization. The civilization who gave life to us all, who endured the pain and suffering of loneliness so that we don't have to today. They truly sacrificed their civilization for us. They have turned to our "God" which they once believed in creating them.
|
"Grax, help me move this boulder."
Grax grunted and hopped over the concrete debris that Morbin was surveying. He lifted the large chunk of rubble and uncovered...something.
​
"What...is that?"
Morbin stepped back and looked at what Grax had just revealed. It was a giant sign of some sort.
​
"I think it says...B....L...O...C...K...B...U...S...T...E..R."
Morbin dusted off his jacket and peered into the rubble, noticing several small objects covered in writing and pictures of the ancients. "It appears to be some sort of historical archival system."
Morbin dug around in the remains of the Blockbuster and picked up one of the small boxes he had seen earlier, flipping it over and reading the contents.
"This one says 'Independence Day'...Stars bless it, this may be the key to how the ancients met their end!" He excitedly handed the box to Grax. "It's almost intact, amazing find! We need to know how to activate the Vee Haytch Ess inside. I think I found a machine for it in that 'Goodwill' we discovered Thursday; let's find some more of these and head back."
​
Grax grunted his acknowledgement and picked up another box. "This one says 'Home Alone'. Why would they archive the story of an unattended child?"
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
Research Overseer Thrandis walked to the podium, and a hush fell over the crowd of archeologists. He nervously cleared his second throat and began speaking.
​
"A few cycles ago, we discovered a historical archive of the ancients. We now know what caused their demise, and we must take every precaution going forward that we do not meet the same fate."
​
"While only some of the footage from the Vee Haych Ess was accessible, it appears that the ancients were wiped out by a warlike, extremely advanced civilization called 'the Aliens'. While we have not yet seen evidence of this race, we cannot discount that they will appear suddenly and without warning."
​
Thrandis waited for the hushed murmuring to subside before continuing.
​
"I have recommended to the Council that they begin researching methods to destroy these invaders should they ever appear. The Goldbloom appears to have found a possible way to destroy them, but since the footage is incomplete we do not know what he discovered. As the ancients are gone, we can only assume that he did not succeed. That is all."
| 2019-01-18T09:07:44 | 2019-01-18T07:43:57 | 134 | 39 |
[WP] In the upper-left side of your vision you've always had an "objective." {Get the Mail} - {Get ready for work} - {Buy Mom a birthday gift}. It's convenient at best, usually providing direction and reminders. You wake with a start in the middle of the night, and see the objective {Get to safety}.
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GET TO SAFETY
The words blinked in front of my eyes as I struggled awake, sleep pulling at me, tugging me back and finally tearing away from my body, every muscle tense and aching. I hadn't gotten much sleep.
Trudging downstairs, the words hung flickering in my vision like the spots that linger after looking at a bright light, flitting away as I tried to focus on them.
Ten minutes later I was out the door, walking down the bleak concrete of the noiseless street. Get to safety... What could it mean? Usually these tasks made sense. They were something obvious like "find your keys" or "go to mum's" or "don't touch the dugong"... That had been an interesting day.
I planted my feet heavily up the steps one by one to the old peeling blue paint of the wooden door and knocked a hollow rhythm. The door opened and there she stood, her face streaked with tears.
"What's happened Jess? Are you alright?"
We sat together on the plush, mustard coloured, mustard scented sofa in the living room, the taste of mustard in the air as she explained what had happened. She had been feeling useless, stuck in a rut. She wanted to try something new, something exciting... And in the spur of the moment had signed up for a salsa dancing class.
This was amusing for two reasons. The first was that the only dance classes within a stone's throw of hampridge were run by the crazy old woman with the hunchback and the gold teeth, who on at least one occasion we had seen screaming gutturally at a flock of pigeons. The second reason was that Jess was so uncoordinated that she once sprained her knee doing the Macarena.
She told me that every friend she spoke to - knowing this latter factoid - had tried to talk her out of it by this point in the conversation, and she was surprised I hadn't. She asked, with baited breath and wide, teary eyes... Why? Why wasn't I treating her like the others? I took her hand, and softly gave the answer she was looking for:
"Jess, you can dance if you want to. You can leave your friends behind. 'Cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance then they're no friends of mine."
GET TO SAFETY - COMPLETE
|
{Get To Safety}. The command was clear as day. I threw the blanket off of my body, scaring my dog in the process, and scrambled to get to my feet and into my slippers. I scanned the room to see what could be lingering in the corners. No gunmen, no burglars, no bogeyman made manifest. But the command was there. I wasn't safe.
So what could it be? My dog whined and nudged her nose against the palm of my hand, pushing her body against my knees. She could feel it, too. I know she could. My heart was pounding, my head was swimming. I staggered to my window and peeked through the blinds to see the empty road of my neighborhood before me. *Get to safety, get to safety. Where was my car? Get to safety.*
Why wasn't it helping me? I left it all behind me the last time I moved. I WAS safe. I had to be safe. They promised me I was finally safe. So what the fuck was the issue? My dog continued to press up against the back of my knees and begged for me to find the problem, to find the issue that would find me if I didn't work fast enough. The knot in my stomach wrenched it's way up into my throat. I couldn't breathe. *Get to safety, why the fuck aren't you running, why are you just standing here?*
And so I waited. I crouched down underneath the window, too terrified to keep watch over the road. I gasped for air as I sat on my bedroom floor, my dog wrestling her way onto my lap, whining and looking up at me. I placed my hands against her ears, stroking her head. *I don't know what to do.* I sat there for a few hours. *I don't feel safe.* I could hear the birds starting to sing outside, the sun just starting to rise from over the roof of my neighbor's house. *You'll never be safe again.*
I couldn't help but cry. I wanted to vomit. I hugged my dog tightly against my chest.
Another sleepless night.
*Why can't I just be normal?*
At around 9 AM, my next command finally entered my vision. I let out a sigh of relief. {Go To Work.}
| 2019-02-21T02:29:00 | 2019-02-21T01:07:50 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe.
|
**HOLD THIS PLEASE**. I had been working in the fields with my parents, bringing in the corn under a dark sky, when the world had suddenly froze and shifted to a gray light. Out of the light had stepped Death.
On our 18th birthday, everyone is supposed to get some kind of power. Something that will keep them safe, give them wisdom, or defeat their enemies. In my family, it was most common to recieve a gift to help with our various trades. My father had recieved a magic calendar that contained all the weather for every season. It was difficult to tell what the tall skeletal figure outside the gate to my family's field was now offering. I decided to trust the old rules, and reached out my hand to grasp the scythe of Death.
As soon as I grasped it, he bent low, hiked his robe up slightly, and began to re-adjust the straps on his leather sandals. I could see skeletal hands, trying and failing, to appropriately secure shoes to skeletal feet. **I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT SHOES ARE A NECESSARY ELEMENT OF ANY WARDROBE**.
Before me stood the most feared being in our world; the very incarnation of the End. The legend stood that Death only shows themself to the living just before the world was to be destroyed, yet here he (possibly she?) stood. Or crouched.
"Why are you here?" I tried my best to keep the quake out of my voice. The confidence boost from a 6-foot tall scythe helped; it's owner did not. Death coughed, or did his best to imitate the noise for a being that, presumably, lacked both lungs and a throat.
**HAPPY BIRTHDAY**. Death, having long ago realized that non-verbal communication was an important part of human relations and that non-verbal communication was impossible for a being without a face, had devised a work-around. With each phrase that he emitted, he also imbued it with an undertone of another word, arriving slightly after the spoken word and slightly further back in the brain. With this phrase, the undertone was "embarassment".
"What do I do with it?" The scythe still towered over my head, but I was starting to feel it's power flowing into me. My hand had long ago gone numb, and my arm now had a tingling, buzzing feeling, like electricity flowing down a piece of metal being struck by a heavy object.
**IT IS A SCYTHE**. **YOU HAVE HELD A SCYTHE BEFORE**. He turned his head slightly, indicating towards a shed that held our farming equipment. For a moment, the robe was pulled back in the motion, yet there was still only darkness supporting the cowl.
"What does this one do that those can't?" The tingling had now spread from the arm grasping the scythe all the way to my chest. I could feel it spreading downward, accelerating, almost eagerly.
**THERE ARE HARVESTS BEYOND THE FIELD**. **YOU WILL LEARN THEM IN TIME**. He said this, and moments later, the tingling hit my feet. I felt an explosion and saw a flash of light as an arc of electricity hit. When I landed several feet away, just before I lost conciousness, I heard **WE WILL MEET AGAIN**.
|
I dodged the first lightning bolt with a duck and roll so fast my father would have been proud. Unfortunately, the second bolt caught me in the face. In an instant everything went white, and I felt myself thrown back into the ground.
A few seconds later, and my vision had returned. Slowly, I dusted myself off and rose to my feet. Around the arena, I could see the gods whispering to one another and staring at me with a mixture of shock and amazement.
In the center of the field stood Zeus.
“What...How?”
The stunned look on his face caused me to laugh.
“You have underestimated humans for too long Zeus, and this will be your downfall. Just like my father as a babe, I have been coated in the protection of the Styx. And I am also armed with a weapon even you must fear.”
I reached my hand out and the Reaper’s scythe instantly materialized into my grip.
“Now”, I continued, “I will avenge all those who died in that pointless war you gods created.”
“Is that why you are here,” Zeus asked, incredulous. “Do not attempt to blame the gods for the war, you stupid mortal. Neither the kings of Troy nor Greece were immortals.”
“No,” I replied, looking around the stadium. I spotted Ares watching me with amusement. “But the gods fanned the flames for the war. And through all of your actions, you forced my father to fight and die.”
The god of the sky bellowed out in laughter.
“Again, I say you are a stupid mortal. Your father was not forced to fight at all. Hades, summon Achilles here, so he may teach his son one final lesson.”
The ground shook, and a giant fissure appeared in the earth between Zeus and I. Floating out of the hole, dressed in full battle armor, appeared the ghostly form of my father. He surveyed the great crowd of gods in the stadium.
“Father,” I called out.
He turned towards my sound, confusion spreading across his face as he noticed me.
“Achilles,” Zeus ordered. “Your deluded son believes the gods forced you to fight. Tell your son about your prophecy”.
“Yes, Zeus,” my father said, never taking his eyes off me. “Pelius, I’m sorry I never told you this before. When I was a child, it was prophesied that I could either live a life of glory but die young, or fade into obscurance and die old. I chose the first option. Your desire to fight to avenge my death fills me with pride, but it is ultimately misplaced.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could only look back at my father in disbelief.
Zeus laughed. “Send him back, Hades.”
“No, wait,” I cried out, but it was too late. My father’s form was whisked down into the fissure.
“Now,” Zeus said with a smirk on his face. “You challenged me to a duel of life or death. Only one of us may live. Unless you still intend to kill me and destabilize the kingdoms of the universe, you know what you must do. Only the Reaper’s scythe has the power to kill you now.”
I knew he was right. I took one last look at the fissure in the ground. I wondered if I would ever meet my father again.
Then I raised my weapon up and brought it down.
| 2019-02-28T23:31:05 | 2019-02-28T22:23:41 | 142 | 18 |
[WP] You live in an ancient world, when someone turns 18, they will receive a gift either magic or weapon. The gift will be of use for them whenever in need. On your 18th birthday, Death knocks on your door and give you his scythe.
|
**HOLD THIS PLEASE**. I had been working in the fields with my parents, bringing in the corn under a dark sky, when the world had suddenly froze and shifted to a gray light. Out of the light had stepped Death.
On our 18th birthday, everyone is supposed to get some kind of power. Something that will keep them safe, give them wisdom, or defeat their enemies. In my family, it was most common to recieve a gift to help with our various trades. My father had recieved a magic calendar that contained all the weather for every season. It was difficult to tell what the tall skeletal figure outside the gate to my family's field was now offering. I decided to trust the old rules, and reached out my hand to grasp the scythe of Death.
As soon as I grasped it, he bent low, hiked his robe up slightly, and began to re-adjust the straps on his leather sandals. I could see skeletal hands, trying and failing, to appropriately secure shoes to skeletal feet. **I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT SHOES ARE A NECESSARY ELEMENT OF ANY WARDROBE**.
Before me stood the most feared being in our world; the very incarnation of the End. The legend stood that Death only shows themself to the living just before the world was to be destroyed, yet here he (possibly she?) stood. Or crouched.
"Why are you here?" I tried my best to keep the quake out of my voice. The confidence boost from a 6-foot tall scythe helped; it's owner did not. Death coughed, or did his best to imitate the noise for a being that, presumably, lacked both lungs and a throat.
**HAPPY BIRTHDAY**. Death, having long ago realized that non-verbal communication was an important part of human relations and that non-verbal communication was impossible for a being without a face, had devised a work-around. With each phrase that he emitted, he also imbued it with an undertone of another word, arriving slightly after the spoken word and slightly further back in the brain. With this phrase, the undertone was "embarassment".
"What do I do with it?" The scythe still towered over my head, but I was starting to feel it's power flowing into me. My hand had long ago gone numb, and my arm now had a tingling, buzzing feeling, like electricity flowing down a piece of metal being struck by a heavy object.
**IT IS A SCYTHE**. **YOU HAVE HELD A SCYTHE BEFORE**. He turned his head slightly, indicating towards a shed that held our farming equipment. For a moment, the robe was pulled back in the motion, yet there was still only darkness supporting the cowl.
"What does this one do that those can't?" The tingling had now spread from the arm grasping the scythe all the way to my chest. I could feel it spreading downward, accelerating, almost eagerly.
**THERE ARE HARVESTS BEYOND THE FIELD**. **YOU WILL LEARN THEM IN TIME**. He said this, and moments later, the tingling hit my feet. I felt an explosion and saw a flash of light as an arc of electricity hit. When I landed several feet away, just before I lost conciousness, I heard **WE WILL MEET AGAIN**.
|
Finally! I've been waiting for this day since I was born. The day that I'll be granted an incredible power. I was ecstatic at the thought of receiving my own power that I can use for my own leisure.
'I'll show my brother that mine will be better than the lightning that was granted by Raiden! Perhaps I would even surpass my sister who got a bow from Apollo!' I opened the oak wood door and was greeted by a mysterious figure, staring down at me. **"Are you..........?"**
I froze. I couldn't understand what he just said, I tried asking him to repeat but all I got was **"Sorry, this was your name in our language."** Language? This being had their own language? By the deities! Even the elves had simpler language than this. I mustered my courage and asked him**"Who are you?"** ..........Nothing it said nothing but only a chuckle
It then conjured a scythe out of thin air which gave a deathly aura to it. Something clicked in my mind. He was-- **"You're Death himself aren't you? "** He put the scythe in my hand and simply said this with a monotone voice **"Yes, I am Death itself, the other gods and deities has been pestering me to finally have a mortal inherit my power. So I did, you will be my champion and use my power for your own leisure.""
I hold the scythe in my hands, the handle was made out of ebony and the scythe was made out of sharpen bones. **"But why me? Why grant me this.......Disastrous power? You could have choose a disciple of an assassin."**
He looks at me for a while before conjuring an illusion around us. An illusion of assassinations, including the asassination of the emperor, a common beggar and a noble. **"Assassins......They kill when ordered too. My reapers and I kill when a mortal's time is coming to an end. Same concept yes? But assassins broke one of our law, which is killing even when their time hasn't come yet. The same goes for necromancers who ressurects their loved ones or their pets. I found it disgusting that they tamper with life and death like it's some toy. But when I saw you, I know you can handle my power easily.**"
At this point, I was beyond confused. Me? I'm just a dumb 18 year old who lives on their own because they didn't want to burden their parents!
**"Why though? Surely your eyes has wronged you."** He sighs before taking off the hood of his cloak. His face was not a skull but instead it was a black mist with dark violet glows for eyes. **"I know those who are worthy when I see one. And you? You're the most perfect mortal for the job. Trust me in this for I would never lie to you. After all, they do say death was a hurtful lie did they not?**"
I glanced at the scythe and hold it with both of my hands. I could hear screeching of souls who have sinned, cries of those who missed their living loved ones, relief of those who taken their own lives and those who are calm knowing their time has ended. Dark markings appear under my eyes and I learned what he has called me in his language.
He called me
***The emissary of Death, Demise.***
| 2019-02-28T23:31:05 | 2019-02-28T23:19:03 | 142 | 13 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa.
|
"Turn around. Did I find you?"
I became a stalagmite of dread, paralyzed in place by the voice that reverberated in my head. Clear as the crisp smell of rain on asphalt. Powerful as an shameful orgasm.
I turned around, certain that the Voice -- creatively named, that -- would be naught but my mental illness quixotically tormenting the spinning gears of my mind.
"You did always have a way with words, but Jesus, take a creative writing class once in a while."
I stood, stricken dumb. Additional parts of my psyche and anatomy experienced a cascading series of failures, until I was reduced to "um," "what," and "uhhhhh..." as the entirety of my skillset. She laughed. This astonishing, wildflower-scented, scarlet-haired woman in front of me was *laughing.* I could hear her laughter. Why could I hear her? I've never heard anyone make this sound before; only the Voice had taught me these things.
I signed to her. *Who are you?*
"Wait. You're Deaf? But I -- but I would've known. I should've known, right?" Her jocund 'I've-found-you' smile turned into a mask of confusion.
Taking care to fully form my thoughts as I was signing them, I told her: *Look, I can hear you, but I thought you were the Voice. You're supposed to be living in my head. Why are you real? Why can I understand your thoughts?*
"I'm in the same boat as you, I have nooooo idea. It's kind of stronger in one direction, though. I can only hear yours when you're really close to me, but I can feel you listening to me no matter where I go. That's how I found you, actually. I heard you for the first time, here at Lost Beans. I decided to broadcast myself and see who turned around. I, uh, I had no idea it'd be someone like you, I'll be honest."
*How do you think I feel?*
"Granted."
*What do we do now? I mean, you're the first person I've ever had a verbal, well verbal-ish, conversation with. I don't know what to say.*
She put her hands in mine. "Make some kind of superhero team? I don't know either."
*Maybe we should order some coffee. Come up with our secret identities.*
She laughed. And in an awkwardly cute effort, she slowly signed the phrase: "I'd like that."
|
As I lay awake in my bed, never once my own thoughts rang through my head, always those of an unfamiliar persons, I toss and turn as the voice rings clear as in my own head, "Turn around.... Did I find you?"
The color in my face drains as I stare at my wardrobe, *Please....dear God say it isn't so....*
"Oh.... It is so, and for thirty seven years..... I've had your sick perverted thoughts ringing through my head, and I am done." She presses a hand into my mattress climbing into the bed. "I really want to meet the man whose thoughts have intruded my mind for as long as we've been alive...." Her other hand lays along my chest and pulls me to face her.
*No no nononono.....* My stark white face turns and what I see is.... Impossible, sans the long hair she looked exactly like me, mousey brown hair, deep green eyes with specks of brown throughout, a sharp pointed nose with enormous caterpillar eyebrows. I blink a few times and have a tough time imagining why we were so familiar.
"You....look just like me!" *What the fuck....* My mind is reeling as I seem to stunned to say or think anything. My mouth opens and only a gasp comes out.
Finally I gather my thoughts, blinking a few times a thought comes to mind.... *I'm glad I'm not vain.....*
A chuckles comes from the look alike girl, "That would make this a whole lot more awkward...." I stare at her in disbelief... forgetting for a moment that one, she broke into my house, and bee, she can hear every single thought of mine.
"Wh....How did you find me?" I state with an abruptness that would put most brakes to shame. "Why are you here? Why is this happening to us? I've been on medication for something nobody understood for literal decades..... It never helped.... Your voice still shone through even at a maximum dosage.... Did you still hear your own thoughts? Too....many questions...." The color returns to my face as I reach up to grab my ears and squeeze away the torrent of questions welling up inside my mind.
Her face flushes red as she screeches, my what a noise... As if there is a microphone with terrible feedback....
-----
I wake up the next morning strapped to my comfortable bed....
"Turn around..... Did *I* find *you*?" A familiar, yet unfamiliar to my ears, voice calls to me from the floor....
=====
Thanks for reading, my first time writing... And posting here! Hope it was a good read!
| 2019-09-14T11:18:09 | 2019-09-14T10:23:14 | 232 | 25 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa.
|
"Turn around... Please."
I stumble forward, desperate to escape my insanity.
The pills were working. They were working. Their not working.
"Please! Stop!"
The desperation in her voice halts me. I know that feeling. I know what its like to be desperate. A clawing, yearning, all consuming desperation.
Desperate for anyone to listen to me.
"Please Nina... you're.not. real. Ok?"
I continue forward. Desperate. Like her voice. Like me, as always.
"Michael; i know what they've told you. I know what you've been through. I'm sorry i shut down our bond. I'm sorry! Ok?! "
I stop midstep. The flow of pedestrians to either side of me reminds me of a rock in a river. I close my eyes and point my face up. I take a couple steadying breaths; than i turn.
And all the breath leaves my lungs.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Oh Michael... you.. you're..." she sprints the 20 or so feet between us and jumps into my arms. I cath her and hold her to me. Nothing has ever felt so right.
"You're really real?" I whisper into her hair. Breathing in her scent. Feeling like my heart is a 1000 times lighter, and heavier, all at once.
"Im really real. I've missed you so much."
I freeze at this. She's been real this whole time. She's real... and she abandoned me. Left me to suffer the hospitalizations; the eltro shock. My whole family has been afraid me. Even in my darkest of days her voice was my haven. But one day it just stoped. 2 years. Its been 2 fucking years.
I push her away. Wiping angrily at my face. "What do you want?" She recoils as if id struck her. "You."
I close my eyes again and hate myself for loving that one simple statement. "No."
"Mikey, wai.." she's saying as i turn around and continue walking. "Mikey they're here!"
I swing back around in time to notice several large men running towards us. I make eye contact with the front man. Than i see it. Everything she's seen, and i know everything she knows. I look at her and she nods.
We grab hands and we run.
|
She has always been there for me. She has always been honest with me.
When I was 4 years old, she told me Mr Bunny had been saying mean things about me. I threw him in the bin. My mother was upset she said why did I throw away my favourite toy. I said he's not my favourite any more.
When I was 6, she taught me what violence was. I drew a picture of violence in my class at school. The teacher was upset with me and told me I was wrong. Everything I've learned of life since then assures me I was right.
When I was 13 she told me that Gary in my class wanted to kiss me. I walked over to him and kissed him first and it was warm and wet and weird.
When I was 15 she told me not to tell anyone what uncle Paul likes me to do with the video camera. She said they wouldn't understand, and I was getting too old for it anyway.
When I was 21 she was all I could see and all I could hear. I asked her for some time alone. I bought some flowers for myself but forgot to buy a vase to put them in. I rested them in a pint glass and didn't leave the house as I watched them slowly shrivel over the next week.
When I was 25 she came back and I felt a shiver down my spine and I don't know if it was bad or good, but I didn't want to ask her to go away again. So she stayed.
When I was 26 she told me that I needed to die so she could live. She told me what to do with the gun.
My heart stopped for 30 seconds at the hospital. They told me I would be able to talk again with rehabilitative therapy, but that I would be disfigured for life. They told me she wasn't real. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and given a lot of pills to take regularly. They brought me peace. I didn't see her again in a long time.
When I was 37 I heard a familiar voice behind me, and felt a shiver down my spine. "Turn around, did I find you?" Her speech was slurry and lisped the same way mine was after the incident.
I turned around slowly. She hadn't aged a day the whole time I'd known her, but this time half her face was grotesque and scarred the same way mine was, except the opposite half. She touched me on the arm, and I knew she was real this time.
I was hers again.
| 2019-09-14T12:09:41 | 2019-09-14T11:01:10 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] We were warned when we hired our first human crew member that they would pack bond with almost anything. We didn't listen, and now have an apex predator somewhere in the ship, that the human won't stop calling Kitty.
|
"I was just doing my job, it's not like I liked the experiments. I didn't particularly care enough to dislike them either, I guess I would say I'm neutral on the matter.
The creatures weren't sentient after all, just huge animals we were studying from planet xerto-R41. I can pinpoint the moment it all went wrong, one of the pregnant females, a huge, lithe, scaled, creature, died when she was unable to pass her newly matured eggs. They always passed two, but her first egg was unfertilized and much too large to pass. Emergency surgery on the expired female produced the second, and viable, egg.
Dr. Macy, our interstellar zoologist from the exchange program with Earth, took the egg home to finish the last day or so of incubation. I told him it wasn't necessary, that we had more specimens available and that it would be extremely difficult to replicate the females pouch and drops of nutritional liquid that she would have leaked to be absorbed through the hatchling's skin.
Dr. Macy was a brilliant man, but a soft one, he took the egg to his family's living quarters and incubated it. He prepared an artificial pouch with refillable nutrient dispensers. After 36 hours, Dr.Macy arrived home to his wife and 6 year old daughters cuddling the newly hatched creature inside it's artificial pouch, where the male juvenile would remain for the next 6 months, at which point, he would be old and large enough to wean on to the meat based diet of the species. Dr. Macy allowed his daughters to name the creature "Kitty", after a common, though completely unrelated pet on their home planet.
At 11 months of age for the creature, Dr.Macy's stay with our facility was over, and he and his family returned to their home planet after returning their creature to the lab.
I observed higher intelligence in the creature as well as signs of depression and asked our new exchange zoologist, Dr.Lewinski, to perform a series of experiments to compare the results with that of a creature cared for by it's mother. Dr.Lewinski confirmed my observations and concluded that the creature responded positively with humans and had a basic understanding of the English language, including it's given name of "Kitty". He also could recognize the Macy's on video and photographs, and would become agitated in an attempt to find their scent.
A mere month after the Macy's left the facility, the creature escaped from it's enclosure by force, ripped through three sets of security doors, and took up residence in the Macy's abandoned living quarters, he was last observed curling on the play rug in the children's room with a worn blanket that he appeared to be defending aggressively from anyone that isn't human.
It took Dr. Lewinsky's offering sedative laced meat to the creature to calm it enough to be moved back to another enclosure, where it broke free 3 additional times in the next week. Dr. Lewinsky has forbidden the neutralization of the creature under threat of ruining political relations between our planets by way of his brother, President Lewinsky. Dr. Lewinsky is a brilliant but soft man as well and responded to the creature's depression and attachment to human scent in a less that observational way.
That is why you are receiving this package at the Smithsonian institute for Interstellar Animal Studies, Dr. Barret, I find that we are quickly running out of funds to repair the damage it is inflicting on my ship, I formally relinquish custody of this creature to Dr. Macy and your facility, well wishes, Captain Grehori."
Dr. Macy looked up from the video file to smile at his 7 year old daughters curled on the carpet with the 200lb reptilian feline. "Kitty's home."
.
.
.
.
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Edit- thank you so much everyone! I hardly ever write and have never had one of my stories upvoted this much! I'm truly flattered!
|
"What were you thinking?" Sareul screamed, three of his four appendages flailing. "We don't allow pets on board. There are no pets in space. And that thing you brought back with you," his eye twitched and mouth wavered as his voice broke on the word *thing*. Sareul took a deep breath and continued, "That thing is not a pet, in any situation."
Alex just stared back blankly and blinked. "He's just like a big kitty. You haven't given Mr. Snippens a chance," he argued.
"You gave it a name?" Sareul's voice climbed another octave and Alex knew it was a sign Sareul would likely never come around to his point of view.
"Yes, Mr. Snippens," Alex made little pinching motions with both hands, "because of his--"
"Okay, because of the claws," Sareul pinch the center of his face ridge and swallowed a few gasping breaths. Alex patiently waited for him to compose himself. He just had to get Sareul calm enough to meet Mr. Snippens. Once he saw how cute and lovable he was, as long as he was kept fed, would surely sway Sareul to allow the creature to stay on the ship.
"You've put us all in danger. A lot of danger. I told the captain when we hired a human--" Sareul's lip twisted up in what looked like a sneer. Alex clenched his jaw. Sareul had hated him from the moment he'd reported to the *Rhapsody*. Maybe he should have started with one of the crew members who had been more open minded about him. Perhaps they'd be willing to listen.
"Is it possible," Alex interjected calmly, "that you're transferring your prejudice for me to an innocent kitty. Neither of us have done anything to you, and yet you were set on getting rid of us from the moment we both stepped on the ship."
Sareul started to turn an interesting shade of crimson, one Alex had never seen on his species before. "Your kitty is a mastritrode, an apex predator and absolute killer, so yes, once it finds me it will likely maul or kill me. So I think that's decent enough reason to want it off the ship. And you're the one that brought it here, so I think my opinions of you have been more than justified."
"Look, I see we're not going to see eye-to-eye right now. Let's take some time to sleep on the issue and come back," Alex began but an ominous *tap, tap, tap* that rumbled through the very floor stopped them both.
"It's here, isn't it," Sareul hissed.
"It will be fine, you just can't show any fear. It's like my dad always said-" Alex said patiently but Sareul was already backing away.
"Come on, if we can get through this hatch and seal it, we can open this part of the ship to vacuum and that will take care of the problem." Sareul said, motioning to Alex with two of his hands.
Alex gaped. He saw now there was no way to convince Sareul. Mr. Snippens was good at taking care of himself, but Sareul seemed intent on playing dirty. *Yes,* Alex thought, *I should have started with one of the other members of the crew first*. But Sareul had been so vocal and had been swaying people to his side. He wouldn't repeat the same mistake next time.
"Okay," Alex said, moving towards Sareul. As they reached the air-tight hatch to the next portion of the ship, Alex put a hand on the bulkhead. "I am sorry. I should have planned this better," he said, before slamming on the quarantine lock, sealing them inside the portion of the ship with Mr. Snippens.
He really was a good kitty. As long as he was kept well fed.
r/StaceyOutThere
| 2019-11-21T07:06:02 | 2019-11-21T06:19:35 | 2,512 | 1,124 |
[WP] At the stroke of midnight on January 1st, 2020, the first snow of the new year and the new decade fell. And it never stopped.
|
The first flakes fell gentle, like shredded up paper swirling down to the ground. And we cheered, those of us celebrating in NYC that night, seeing in the new year with friends and wine and laughter.
We woke with sore heads to a changed cityscape. A frozen veil had softened the harsh lines and dimmed the bright lights. A few inches overnight. Kids were out making snowmen while grownups hung their heads out of windows like dogs in the car, admiring what the dirty city had become. An open air art gallery -- minimalism gone mad.
I made a coffee and turned on the radio. The voice was already fuzzed with static. Soon it'd be gone altogether.
*A miracle, folks! Snow all around the world, like we're in a big glass globe and someone's just picked up the planet and given it a good shake. Let's rewind a few weeks and get the holiday music back on the air!*
It didn't even take a day for the first building to fall. The roof of the house was almost flat, perfect for snow to settle on. After that, it was winter-white dominoes. Clunk, clunk, clunk. New York began to fall. And what didn't fall was slowly suffocated as the snow crept up over the remaining buildings' necks.
We scurried like rats into the sewers, into the subways, into anywhere deep enough and strong enough to hold, as the snow pressed down hard on the city's chest.
And so it ended for us. Life was over, at least as we knew it. Most died. And those few unfortunates that lived began life anew. Had to.
New religions blossomed overnight, with followers that worshipped gods of fire or ice. Sacrifices were made daily in their honour by crazies. Clans became both family and protection.
Life anew was life cursed.
Me? What did I become in this cold new world beneath the earth? Well, I'm a burrower. Forget electricity or machinery or any shit like that -- that's all long gone. We burrow with spades and heat. Me, Claire, Ricky -- my crew. We're part of the Flat Iron clan. Eighty of us total.
Now burrowers, if I do say so myself, have the most important role in any clan. We carve the tunnels in the belly of the snow that allow us up into the clogged throats of the ruined buildings of NYC. We hollow tunnels that allow us to transport goods, tunnels that allow us to fall on enemy clans unexpected, tunnels that allow us to expand.
Today, when we were tunneling, *everything* changed.
We were burrowing upwards, looking for food in the ruins. Nothing new in that.
But we didn't mean to reach the surface -- didn't expect to. Never thought we'd see it again, in truth. But the snow had, at some point in the last few years, stopped falling; we burst out to a white land glittering under starlight.
For a moment, we celebrated.
Then, we saw them.
We sure as fuck hadn't expected to find that God himself had arrived -- that the crazies had been right all along. The snow... it'd just been rolling out the white carpet for Him. A way of purifying the planet for His landing -- Him and his demented angels.
We stayed up there, watching, for too long. Too careless -- 'cause they saw us and they know there are survivors, now.
They're coming down the burrows to get us.
To purify the earth entirely.
​
\---
​
I asked one of my favourite writers here if she'd like to cowrite this with me - [please find part 2 here :)](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofstatic/comments/e8x58z/below_zero_part_2/)
|
I was born on the night of the long snow. I have never known a day without this: the dismal white, stretching in all directions.
My mother said we didn't always live like this. We didn't always hide around fires, watching the world from out frosted windows.
But even when she told me, showed me the old photos of green fields and trees with wide fanning leaves on their fingers... I couldn't believe it. The world I knew was brambled and dead. And I felt just as grey.
It was the morning of my seventeenth birthday. Seventeen long years trapped in the dark.
Every year, for my birthday, my mother would make little moon cakes with marzipan syrup. She would top them with winterbells, the little white flowers that only survived in the shade. The only flowers I had ever seen.
But this year, I woke before the rest of them. I dressed in the winter dark, pulling on layers of furs and fleece, until I am so densely warm I could hardly feel my arms.
I eased my door open and poked my head out into the hall. The walls were lined with everything that existed from the before. Before the snow ended the world. The picture frames and dusty cabinets, the hoarded collections of plastic bags my mother wouldn't get rid of, because no one is making new ones, you know.
I walked past my parents' room. For a moment, I hesitated in the doorway. Listening to them breathe. I wanted to push the door open and see them, if this really would be the last time. But I couldn't risk waking them.
No. If I was brave enough to say goodbye, I wouldn't be leaving like this.
I crept down the black hallway and slipped on my boots. They were mismatching pairs, but neither had holes and both more or less fit. I slipped them on as soundlessly as I could.
"What are you doing?"
The whisper behind me made me whirl, heart rabbiting.
But it was only my little brother, standing there in my old pajamas. He was like me, another snow baby, trapped in winter.
"Go back to bed," I hissed back.
"Charlie," he insisted, "what are you *doing?*"
I looked between him and the door. My mouth a hard line of dread. "I'm going to find out how to stop the winter."
"You can't stop it."
"I have an idea. And can you shut up? You're going to wake them." I nodded fiercely down the hall.
My brother puffed himself up. "If you're fighting it, I'm going with you."
"I'm not fighting it. I'm going to... Reason with it."
Even as I said it, the lameness of my plan made me deflate.
My little brother folded his arms over his chest. "Let me come, or I'll scream and wake them up."
I looked between my brother and the black sky. It would lighten for morning soon. And then it would be really too late.
"Dammit. Goddammit. Fine. But if you get eaten by a snow monster or something, don't let Mom blame me."
I waited the long few anxious minutes for him to get ready. I looked around at the relics if my parents' living room. The television that no longer had power to run, now turned into a clothing rack.
We didn't have to live like this, I told myself. That was why I was doing all of this.
My brother clomped down the hall in his snow gear. He looked so very small in that massive parka.
"Mom's going to be pissed," he said, but he had a bright grin, like that was all he wanted.
I couldn't match his excitement. After all, I was the one who knew where we were really going.
"You're right" I told him. "So we should get a headstart."
Then we left together, into the spindrifting snow.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
| 2019-12-10T10:04:04 | 2019-12-10T09:59:58 | 2,345 | 237 |
[WP] You see 'YOU'RE' on a guy's tshirt. Then, you find a dollar with the word 'BEING' on it. Right after, you see 'WATCHED' written in graffiti on a wall.
|
The message flashed across his mind, as a deep primal fear emerged within him.
*You're being watched*
Mark desperately looked around, trying to find a source in the darkness, a sign that he wasn't going crazy. People rushed past him, bumping into him as he wildly turned around and around. He tried to calm down, but the adrenaline coursed through him, throbbing his vision with every heartbeat.
He stopped suddenly, as his stomach turned to ice. A man in a dark suit, obscured by the throng of people, staring directly at him. As they made eye contact, he began slowly walking towards him.
A billboard flashed above the man, a Nike ad, the word 'RUN' illuminating the dark street below.
Mark was soon in a full sprint. As he raced through the crowd, he felt more and more eyes turning towards him, hands slowly reaching out. He felt them beginning to focus on them as he pushed past them all, desperately searching for freedom, the fear quelling any rational part of his brain.
He sprinted past a wellness center, a woman in a yoga pose on a large poster to his left; 'BODY AND MIND' on the header.
A taxi suddenly stopped in front of him, and he crashed into the side of the car, falling back and hitting the ground. He looked up at the LED Display, the word 'OCCUPIED' flashing red.
Everyone was looking at him now. Every single person staring directly at him. *Into* him.
He backed himself up against the car, as they all began to take slow, gradual steps towards him. A little girl emerged from the crowd, and held out her hand for him.
A smile on her lips. Her eyes hollow.
The back of the taxi door suddenly opened, rough hands pulling him into the car. The crowd coalesced on the taxi as the driver hit the acceleration, ramming into people reaching for the windows, riding into and over several people to escape the throng of humans.
Mark felt cold metal on his forehead. He looked up to see two people, the woman holding a gun to his face.
"If you're one of them, I'll shoot you right now," she said, her hands shaking.
The man put his hand on her shoulder. "I don't think he is," he told her, looking into Mark's eyes.
"*Not yet, at least.*"
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
|
"Can I help you, man?"
I came to my senses abruptly and realised I had been staring at the guy for at least a full minute. I had spotted his t-shirt, and then my mind had wandered. My staring into space must've looked pretty creepy as my gaze wandered, slowly and unbeknownst to me, up to the guy's face as I pondered.
*Who has a t-shirt that just says* YOU'RE*?*, I thought. *Maybe he's one of these Grammar Nazis. Man, that term hasn't aged well. Seems inappropriate now that Nazis are a thing again. Of all the things to make a comeback. Nazism? It's 2020, dude. I wonder did people say that in the '40s? Like, someone would say something racist, and you'd just think,* Well, it *is* 1942!
"Psycho", the t-shirt guy scoffed and dismissed me with a turn of his heel. In his wake, he left the convenience store cashier, grinning broadly at me. We engaged in some light chatter as I made my purchase. The guy was Indian, almost stereotypically so. Nice guy, but damn. Even his accent seemed offensive. Wasn't he aware it was 2020?
As he handed me my change, which totalled $1.29, I noticed something on the bill. Scrawled across George Washington's face, in heavy, red pen was the word "BEING".
"What happened here?" I asked the cashier.
He just shrugged, smiled, and said "Thank you, come again!" You couldn't write this shit.
I stuffed the bill and coins into my pocket, and strolled back to the parking lot, whistling. As I sat into my car, I noticed some graffiti scrawled on the side wall of the store.
"WATCHED".
Suddenly, it all came together in my mind.
"YOU'RE BEING WATCHED."
I began to sweat. My heart rate increased. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror...and laughed. I was being ridiculous. None of this meant anything. The t-shirt was just some weird ironic kid, the bill was probably some political statement, and the graffiti? Well, there was always some crazy stuff sprayed on the side of the Kwik-E-Mart. Even below "WATCHED", someone had sprayed "El Barto". I chuckled, took a sip of my Squishie, and started my engine.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed an old billboard across the street that was blank except for one remaining shred from its previous occupant in the bottom right corner. It read "...ON FOX."
| 2020-04-30T06:47:35 | 2020-04-30T06:44:07 | 58 | 19 |
[WP] As a kid you dealt with scary monsters in your room by yelling, "The jig is up, come on out." Tonight you showed your child how to do it, but were not prepared when several voices replied back in defeated agony.
|
It's the overactive imaginations of children at work. We all have thought that there were scary monsters in our rooms when we went to sleep. We all had our own ways of dealing with it. It was about time I taught Ben my way of dealing with it.
"Alright, on three. Ready?"
"Uh-huh."
"Alright, one... two... three!"
"The jig is up, come on out!"
Several groans resounded throughout the room. Not the groan of a creature from a crypt, mind you, it was more like the groan of a crowd reacting to a bad comedian. A tentacle poked out of the closet. A clawed hand reached out from under the bed. Strange appendages seemed to come out of several nooks and crannies all around the room.
In a few moments, we had what looked like some manner of tentacle monster, a werewolf, what looked like an amoeba, and someone that looked like some manner of giant spider crammed into the small space.
The werewolf glared at the tentacle monster. "This is your fault, Greg."
The mass of tentacles recoiled, as if offended. "*My fault?* How is this my fault?"
"Oh, where do I begin? One, you're a mass of tentacles, parts of you will stick out everywhere for everyone to see! Two, you have absolutely *no* sense of stealth! We're lucky that the kid hasn't spotted you sooner! Three-"
"Do you need to go on?" Greg grumbled. "If you do, then I feel it's necessary to list out *your* stupid stuff! First. in case you weren't paying attention, *I* was in the closet! Not that you'd notice, because apparently you're blind! Second - "
The spider interrupted the both of them. "Not to be a bother," she began, "but the kid hasn't moved in the past five minutes."
Sure enough, Ben was frozen stiff, a quickly growing dark spot on his pants. A second later, he started crying.
Greg and the werewolf started arguing again.
"Oh look what happened, your feeler-covered ass has gone and made the kid cry!"
"Shut up, Jack! You sure it wasn't your stupid face? And don't curse in front of the kid!"
If an amoeba could facepalm, that is what the fourth monster would have been doing at this moment. "Will you two ***shut up?***"
Jack and Greg let out a small "eep" and went ramrod straight. The amoeba turned to me. "Sorry about that, those two are idiots. My name's Michael. The spider's Rachel. Good to meet you."
It took me a moment to gather my thoughts. "Alright then, uh, Michael. Good to meet you too." I spared a few minutes to get Ben cleaned up and put to bed in my room and came back, only to find the quartet in my living room, ignoring me. I sighed, then clapped my hands twice. "Alright, you four. Mind telling me what you're doing in my house?"
The four monsters somehow managed to seem embarrassed, which is impressive, considering three of them didn't have faces. "It's a long story."
----
I decided to go with a humorous take on the prompt. When I heard "defeated agony," for some reason the first thing that popped into my head was something like a groan at a bad joke! Weird, I know. I basically took this and ran with it. I hope you liked it!
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It was one of those moments that I had been excited about ever since the day of my wedding. To pass on my family’s traditions to my child. I remember when my father first came into my room, embracing me, holding up a candle making sure the light was there to offer additional warmth. He would tell me about how his father always told him these magic words when monsters came knocking. It was a simple spell but oh so effective. He placed the candle aside, standing before me, throwing up his hands. “The jig is up, come on out.” At that moment, it was like all my fears had been driven out of the room, each fading away as the spirits left.
Of course, I soon came to learn it was no more than a placebo. Monsters didn’t exist, they existed only in the heads of their creators. That didn’t mean they weren’t terrifying though, even as an adult it’s easy to fall for the tricks of a pre-evolved brain. How many times was I tricked by an oddly placed jacket on my bed or the scrapping of branches across my bedroom window? Even now I still used that old trick, filling me with that same sense of comfort that I felt on that day.
A father shouldn’t be happy to hear his son say. “Daddy, there’s a monster in my closet.” But I was ecstatic, it was my chance to pass on generations of family knowledge to my own child. I embraced him, not having the need for a candle, my phone light being more than bright enough.
“You know, there’s some magic words my father taught me to say when you’re scared. It’s one that forces the monsters out. Want me to teach it to you?” It was a stupid question, like asking a dehydrated man if he wanted water. But you had to drag out these moments, you never wanted them to end. The nodding of his head indicated the answer and I stood up. “Right, so the magic word is. The jig is up, come on out!” I pointed to the closet before looking down at my son. “Now you try it.”
He seemed a little uncertain of my strategies, children did catch on to their father’s tricks from an early age. The internet seemed to speed up the amount of knowledge one could gain. At first, I thought this might be the end of the tradition, only for him to raise his hands. “The jig is up, come on out.”
I was so proud of my boy, about to pull him into another hug, only for the house to rattle, toys falling off their shelves as the rattling got louder before stopping. A sudden booming red light shot out of the cracks in the closet before it opened. A screech of agony coming as a dishevelled man dragged himself out of the closet. His one eye staring at me, lips grinning from ear to ear. He hobbled from the closet, another cry of pain leaving his lips before he vanished. Vanishing into the darkness of the night.
I was left speechless, my heart having stopped for just a split second before returning to a thumping heartbeat. “Thanks, dad, that really worked.” Was all my son said, rolling over to face away from me, hugging his pillow, closing his eyes. Well, I was glad at least one of us would be getting some sleep tonight.
“Right, good night. Daddy loves you, don’t tell your mother about this.” I quickly exited the room, pinching myself, assuring my self that it must have been fake, but of course, the pain from the pinch was very real.
{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.}
| 2020-06-03T00:59:37 | 2020-06-03T00:52:23 | 243 | 143 |
[WP] "I have helped you with your endeavor, now I claim your soul" the demon says. "Thank you but no. I don't know how it works in hell but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor is not legally binding. I'm 17 and keeping my soul" you respond.
|
"I have helped you with your endeavor, now I claim your soul!" Alamandriel said, a wide, cruel smile spreading across his unsightly face. But Harry grinned.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't know how it works in Hell, but here on earth, a contract signed by a minor isn't legally binding. I'm 17 and I'm keeping my soul."
The demon's smile flickered. "Ex — excuse me?" he snarled.
"You heard what I said," Harry said calmly. "Now could you kindly vacate the premises, I have a lot of studying to do."
He climbed back into bed and seized his biology textbook. When he glanced up, Alamandriel was still there.
"Do you think this is a joke, human?" His scarlet eyes flared with anger, and his bat-like wings twitched irritably. "I have no time for foolishness, do you really believe your petty human laws apply to a servant of Hell?" He bared his obsidian talons and advanced a step towards Harry, who looked back up at him, eyebrows raised.
"Do I need to call my mother?"
"Your — your *mother*?" The demon looked taken aback.
"My mother," said Harry placidly. "She's a lawyer, she can tell you everything. Your contract won't bind me."
"This is real life, you imbecile!" the demon spat. "Not some silly fantasy! Your human rules do not apply to the Dark Realm!"
"True, true.... But we're not *in* the Dark Realm, are we? We're on earth, so our rules would likely take precedence over yours in case of a situation like this."
"UNTRUE!" The room shook with the demon's roar. Harry grinned again.
"Then why don't you test that theory? Try to claim my soul."
"Don't mind if I do!" Alamandriel said forcefully, and he stepped closer; Harry lifted his shirt.
"*What*?" the demon yelped, stopping dead and staring.
"There you have it," said Harry. "You remember what you said, don't you? The contract takes root in the form of a seal over the requester's heart. And as you can see" — he waved his arm vaguely over the mass of smooth, white skin — "no seal. The contract didn't bind."
Alamandriel stood in stunned silence for a moment — then he lunged. "You think you can make a fool out of me, boy?" he screamed, but next moment, he had ricocheted backwards as though he had struck an invisible wall, his hands steaming.
"Sorry, I may not have the seal you *thought* I did," Harry said, pulling up the sleeve of his right arm, "but I never said I didn't have *any*."
"That — that mark —" Alamandriel gasped, staring at the strange symbol drawn on Harry's right wrist.
"Repels demons," Harry said simply. "You — can't — touch — me. So you've done the job I assigned for you without your pay, and now you can't even exact revenge. I really don't think there's any point wasting time here anymore."
Alamandriel staggered to his feet, glaring at Harry with mingled hatred and fury in his eyes. "You may have won this time, boy," he said quietly, his voice trembling, "but the war isn't over. Even if I won't get your soul now, I *will* see you again. And when I do —"
"Yeah, yeah, you'll boil me in sulphur or feed bits of me to the hellhounds, tell it to someone who cares, why don't you?" Harry said indifferently. "Now, if you don't mind...."
His chest pulsing with fury, the demon was engulfed by crimson flames. A moment later, Harry was alone in his dark room.
"Harry, dear?" came his mother's voice out in the hall moments later. "Why is the hallway all dark? And" — she sniffed loudly — "why do I smell sulphur? Have you been making deals with demons again? I know I shouldn't have told you that loophole!"
r/MysticScribbles for more!
|
I always hated whenever someone asked me what my parents did for a living.
"Musicians," I always said. "I want to be just like them when I grow up! They perform in symphony orchestras," was the bogus classroom lie I touted, never revealing more but prepared to say my mom was a violinist and my dad was a double bass player.
And that's what I thought they did until I turned 10 years old and I started to catch on that my mom and dad took shifts staying the night at the house because one of them would be out hunting demons.
As ridiculous as it might sound, my parents are talented musicians, but they're even better demon hunters. World-class. I'm talking like, top 25 in the US good, and that's how they met. Hunting demons in their twenties.
I poked through their belongings in the secret basement room (which I was never allowed in but one day the door was left ajar), I found a book on demonology and found that you could use demons for your advantage. My eyes lit up when I saw that you could create a contract to exchange a soul for a wish or ability.
Demons are among us. You're unlikely to find one because much like criminal networks that keep a low profile, demons are involved in their own organized crime. To 'summon' a demon is merely a matter of going to a shifty building that's a front. They disguise themselves as bankers, buffets, and strip clubs. You name an original sin, they have their hand in it. Who knows, maybe you might bump into one, but you wouldn't know.
I searched around online until I found a bank called: "Daemon Credit Union." Which made me crack up. No discretion. Daemon = Demon in Latin. Idiots.
I sauntered in the building just before it closed. I made an appointment with a man named Leonard.
He ushered me into his office and I sat in the chair across from him.
"So what sort of financial help can I give you today, Hannah?" Leonard asked.
I studied his high cheekbones, pallid face, and dark brown eyes which were more reminiscent of black holes.
"Yes, I'm looking for help with something actually. Non-financial, if you know what I mean," I winked and pulled out a sheet of paper that was a pentagram drawn with red sharpie marker.
Leonard picked up the sheet and cocked his eyebrow. "Are you serious with this?" he flailed the paper in the air and cracked up. "Shouldn't you be in some after-school activity? Don't you have some homework you should be doing? This isn't the place for a cute little girl like you."
"I'm not cute, and I'm not little. You're going to give me a wish in exchange for a soul and that's final," I glared at his measly eyes and he chuckled.
"Look, Hannah, you seem like a nice girl and everything. But you don't want to get involved in this stuff. You honestly don't know what you're saying."
"Believe me, I know. I've done my research and I've made my decision final. I'm not going anywhere," I pulled out an obsidian dagger that I stole from my parents.
Leonard trembled and beads of sweat dampened his forehead. "L-L-Look, we c-can work this o-out. J-Just p-put that away and we'll talk."
I sheathed the dagger in my pocket. "Good. Now listen to me, you're going to make me the best piano player in the world. I'm finally going to be better than Melanie who's in all my classes and champion of the state in my age group. Not to mention she's a huge bully and so full of herself."
"F-Fine, we c-can do that. I just need you to sign something."
"Before I sign it, I need you to agree that you will give me this piano playing ability in time for my audition for the state competition. After which my soul is yours. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, we have a deal," Leonard twitched.
I made a [part 2.](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/hla9sd/wpi_have_helped_you_with_your_endeavor_now_i/) :)
r/randallcooper
| 2020-07-04T11:23:06 | 2020-07-04T10:53:02 | 3,441 | 378 |
[WP] As you die, you wake up in a fiery place. You quickly realize you're in hell. You ask the next demon why you are there, as you lived a very good life. "You're not being punished," he says. "You are the punishment."
|
"Ah geez, it's really dry here." He said as he stood up from his long slumber. He began to survey the place that was cold and hot at the same time. His ears began to hear the screams of terror and anguish.
"Wha... what is this place?" He asked himself nervously.
He began to recollect his last memories before he awoke in this awful place.
"How did I get here? Let's see, I was driving in his new boat with him and I crashed into the lag--- OH MY DRIED CRAB LEGS! I'M DEAD! AND I'M IN HELL!"
"Yes you are..." a voice said from a dark corner of hell. "and welcome to the parteee."
The man had a voice that reminded him of a butler.
"Who... who are you?" He asked the suspicious man.
"I am the devil." He declared.
"OH no... I know why I'm here, it's because I STOLE A BALLOON ON FREE BALLOON DAY ISN'T IT! I'M SO SORRY! PLEASE MR. DEVIL I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE!"
The devil had been around for a very long, but even he could not resist a chuckle.
"No my dear boy, you deserve a high place in heaven, but I need you to do me a favor first. A permanent resident needs a little, well, adjusting to his new life style."
"He... he does?" He asked, wiping his long nose and big eyes.
"Yes, why don't you go comfort him... he was the man riding in the boat with you before you crashed. Poor fool only pouts, I think he would love to see you."
Surprised, he looked around wondering where his friend was.
"He's over there, young man."
He ran enthusiasticly over to the pouting man with a hanging nose. He tapped the man over his shoulder and said, "Hiiiiiiiiii Squidward."
|
It was as if YHWH and Lucifer planned it all along.
There I was, guided to a white room by a walleyed Frenchman with glasses. It was a room plain and white, with a sofa set, table and bottomless refreshments. This is the life!
And here was where I set to work, three people, poor spirits they were, went into the same room with me. One a whore who died after her 10th miscarriage, another one executed for his war crimes, and a third an old schoolmaster doubling as a paedophile.
And then we began talking. We talked and talked as we drunk. The ever flowing ambrosia---surprisingly, Hell had an endless supply of those---tasted sweet, especially when chilled with the ice coming from the Ninth Circle. Ahhh...
But mind you, I was a good Christian back in my human life, respected the laws, read the Bible, treated others as my equals, et cetera et cetera. Before I died, I heard an angel tell me that I was chosen for a certain experiment the Hereafter was doing. That's how I ended up in the First Circle.
As the experiment went on, I saw the faces of my companions turn from boredom to madness. We did not care how much we drank nor how much time has passed, all we did was talk. Talk until the three spirits dropped to the floor. Talk until the walleyed French dude took me out of the room and into heaven, where I saw an angel approach me.
"You know that guy? Sartre?" he asked
"Took him up in Philosophy class," I replied with a smile.
"Yea, so how'd ya find Hell?"
"A bit torturous, but manageable. If there's one thing I learned from this experiment, it's that Hell is... other people," I replied.
Author: u/CXTRONICA
Title: Hell is Other People
inspired by Jean-Paul Sartre's No Exit.
| 2020-07-10T11:34:14 | 2020-07-10T09:25:50 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!”
|
Allison stood there looking at the Dark lord. She had just watched the last member of her group fall. Her face stony as she felt their heart beat for the last time.
"I have killed everyone, you can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?" He said. His tone a mixture of mocking and was that pity for her?
Her necklace fell to the floor, and a smile crossed her face. She felt her old power resurface as she looked at her new target.
"There's no one here to stop me."she said, reaching to her holster and taking out her weapon of choice. It looked like a tire iron and the Dark lord had seen her wield it before but never like this. Energy crackled out of it and her hands.
"See, they locked me down." She said taking a step forward."As long as they were alive I was at an eighth of my true power, and ferocity. Now they're all dead and nothing is going to hold me back.
Her words measured, her voice steady didn't do as much, but the look in her eyes made the dark lord step back. He was devious, but in her eyes he could see the violence, the maliciousness, and the fact that she was reveling in the possibility caused him to take a step back.
"I'm not going to capture you." She said as she leapt at him, her weapon swinging, an arc of power that he could feel was signalling his end. As the metal connected with him, the last words he heard from her were.
"Thank you for freeing me."
|
As the headless body of Sly - the Hero of Legend - slumped to its knees the entire chamber grew still. The corpses of his friends were strewn all over. Impaled on spikes, beheaded, torn to shreds. Each one killed in a separate gruesome and imaginative fashion.
The Great Lord - Apollo - the Son of the Sun - the Starchild - opened his hand to study the crushed head in his palm.
"You gave me the fight of my life little one. You and your band of misfits were an actual challenge. I think I'll have a painter - or maybe a sculptor - immortalise this event."
Stepping carefully as to not disturb the morbid scene he slowly moved towards the exit as a dim light appeared behind him. A muffled hiss could be heard.
"......"
The Great Lord halted. Turning slowly he noticed a translucent, brilliantly glowing shape rising from the severed neck of the still kneeling form of Sly.
Writhing and thrashing, the light appeared to take on a humanoid form for a second, then changing back to mere coloured smoke. For a few moments the Great Lord stood perfectly still, watching, waiting.
Suddenly there was a blinding light followed almost instantly by a booming voice, laughing. No. Cackling.
As the kneeling body of Sly tipped over and hit the floor, the Great Lord noticed a white haired man behind it.
"I thank you for your service Great Lord. Apollo!"
The man seemed to grow bigger.
"For decades I have fought - and lost - to this.. Hero", he spat the word.
He cackled maniacally.
"I am Drago, and NO ONE can stop me now!"
| 2020-07-11T04:09:17 | 2020-07-11T03:40:49 | 177 | 10 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!”
|
"I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" the Dark Lord asked.
I can't see him, but he towers several feet above me as I feel the spirits leave the bodies of the fallen heroes. A familiarity begins coursing through my body. The heat rising within, ignoring my cold, tattered robes. Tiny sparks crackling in my veins, bringing back a feeling lost ages ago. I struggle to hold back a barely visible grin from under my dark hood.
"Mortal," the Dark Lord continues. "You smile knowing your death is inevitable. I commend your bravery and will make your death quick."
The rush from a fragment of power coursing through me forces a gravelly, maniacal laugh from the depths of my lungs. The Dark Lord's face twists in annoyance. "Your disrespect will not be tolerated!" he bellows before lunging at me.
My long slumbering eyes open to the Dark Lord's face just a few inches away from mine, blood smeared across his face and teeth, the tips of his talons sharp just above my collar bone. He's frozen in time. The Dark Lord's face contorts in fear as he witnesses my strength.
The earth leaves from beneath my feet as a whirlwind circles around me. Finally, enough power for me to grasp and make use of. Millenia of slumber slowly getting being pushed away by the familiar warmth of magic and power. "Do you see now?" I manage to muster from my long underused vocal cords as I lower my hood.
The Dark Lord is released from the grasps of time and falls to the ground. He scrambles as he feels my power awakening and gives a slight look of fear and admiration before adjusting himself and standing tall. "I do," the Dark Lord exclaims after a few seconds of glaring. He looks around at the slain mages and warriors, the remnants of a chapter dedicated to my captivity and downfall. The Dark Lord drops to one knee and bows. "The final preparations have been made, Master. There is nothing to stand in your way."
|
The Dark Lord stood in silence as he watched the young, covered in torn clothes, barely being able to stand up human started rising up. Hemble, the last member of the party of the Ghand let out a screeching cracking sound as his skin started to glow and flame up.
"Leaving me as the last one was a..." A grand crack interrupted him. His body started shaking.
The Dark Lord now made a step back. There was fear in his eyes now.
"Huge. Mistake!" Continued Hemble, now with a deeper yet piercing voice. Suddenly he fell on the ground and screamed. The Dark Lord managed to smile a bit.
"Some party trick won't be able to scare me off, you magnificent fool! I am invincible. I am indestructible. I am eternal. I am the flame. I am the wind. I am destruction! One of the beings blessed to roam the world until it ends. I am forever and nothing can't stop me!.
Hemble turned his head towards him, lifting himself up on all fours, now his smile being more devilish than before.
"You aren't the only one cursed with eternity, Lordie" he coughed. "You aren't the only one who was to witness the rise and downfall of civilizations, who saw people come and go of this world, who saw mountains fall and new ones to rise. But now the end has come and it's time to seize to exist!"
"You can't end me, you moron!" screamed the Dark Lord" There have been thousands bef..."
Hemble interrupted.
"You and I are the same." And he jumped, now faster than a lightning towards the unexpecting Lord.
"You can't end me!"
"Then I shall end us both!" He took a deep breath "For my lost friends!"
The clash was felt around the world. A strike so powerful, it was witnessed by every creature on the world. More powerful than the hardest earthquake, the strongest storm or the loudest thunder. And after that silence. Pure, dead silence.
Hemble and the Dark Lord were gone. And the world was safe. For now.
| 2020-07-11T04:45:03 | 2020-07-11T04:20:41 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!”
|
Dark Lord Guldaks gazed upon the halfling Ralas, the last of the heroes companions. He smiled. "I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" he asked.
Ralas smiled. Then the smiled grew twisted as he started to chuckle, and like a wave building momentum his laughter started to burst forth until he was laughing like a madman and with a grin like the devil himself he said "Because now, NOW, there´s no one here to stop me now!"
With that he reached into his pouch and grew forth a small wooden object. The Dark Lord, shied back, uncertain of what the madlings plan was. He fiddled with it for a bit, and with a magic gesture the halfling lit a flame in one end of the item, put the other to to his mouth and took a deep breath. He held this for a moment, before he removed it and blew several smoke rings from his mouth.
"Damn" he said "This is some good pipeweed. The others always said it was bad for my health, and that I have an addiction. But sometimes you just need to kick back and relax a bit. You get what I mean?"
Dark Lord Guldaks gazed upon the halfling Ralas, the last of the heroes companions. He smiled. "I totally get what you mean" he said, pulling out his own pipe "Tell me have you tried the Elven Blue? Its really mellow, but still got a bit of kick".
|
As the headless body of Sly - the Hero of Legend - slumped to its knees the entire chamber grew still. The corpses of his friends were strewn all over. Impaled on spikes, beheaded, torn to shreds. Each one killed in a separate gruesome and imaginative fashion.
The Great Lord - Apollo - the Son of the Sun - the Starchild - opened his hand to study the crushed head in his palm.
"You gave me the fight of my life little one. You and your band of misfits were an actual challenge. I think I'll have a painter - or maybe a sculptor - immortalise this event."
Stepping carefully as to not disturb the morbid scene he slowly moved towards the exit as a dim light appeared behind him. A muffled hiss could be heard.
"......"
The Great Lord halted. Turning slowly he noticed a translucent, brilliantly glowing shape rising from the severed neck of the still kneeling form of Sly.
Writhing and thrashing, the light appeared to take on a humanoid form for a second, then changing back to mere coloured smoke. For a few moments the Great Lord stood perfectly still, watching, waiting.
Suddenly there was a blinding light followed almost instantly by a booming voice, laughing. No. Cackling.
As the kneeling body of Sly tipped over and hit the floor, the Great Lord noticed a white haired man behind it.
"I thank you for your service Great Lord. Apollo!"
The man seemed to grow bigger.
"For decades I have fought - and lost - to this.. Hero", he spat the word.
He cackled maniacally.
"I am Drago, and NO ONE can stop me now!"
| 2020-07-11T05:40:29 | 2020-07-11T03:40:49 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!”
|
Sir Bringham always shined as a light to guide his party in dark times, but he was not the hero. Dandy, the Barbarian, was a stubborn soul who made the hearts of his companions sing, but was not the hero. Griffin, held that honor as he was our hero of legend, True Paladin of Old, bound from another world, and laid dead at my feet.
"There's no one..." a quiet thump beat from my chest as those words left me silent.
The man atop the mound of bones that was his throne room, peeked above his hands. He had gone back to his seat as the hero hit the ground dead, bored by his own power. Sir Bringhim had attempted to light the man on fire before being smote himself. Dandy, a font of anger, laid his life down faster than I could see the Dark Lord react. All of them.... gone.
"I am in no rush to see how you choose your death, but I am curious," his voice creeped pass his fingers like smoke and with a great puff of arrogance and impatience, "Why do you not run?"
"There's no one here..." another studder forward.
"Yes, the is no god here, only I death," the Dark Lord stood grasping the air above his head held high like a chalice. Victory was his to drink.
"There's no one here to stop..." silence.
"What are you babbling about? Are you broken? I am here. I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" enthralled by his own voice, the Dark Lord stopped cold in anger to the sound of laughter. Perhaps the fool was best to die now, but the Lord gave pause to the man's last words.
"There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!" these were the words the party's cleric **and** necromancer always wanted to say, especially since the prophecy only mentioned the Hero standing over the Dark Lord's dead body, never how.
|
The Dark Lord stood in silence as he watched the young, covered in torn clothes, barely being able to stand up human started rising up. Hemble, the last member of the party of the Ghand let out a screeching cracking sound as his skin started to glow and flame up.
"Leaving me as the last one was a..." A grand crack interrupted him. His body started shaking.
The Dark Lord now made a step back. There was fear in his eyes now.
"Huge. Mistake!" Continued Hemble, now with a deeper yet piercing voice. Suddenly he fell on the ground and screamed. The Dark Lord managed to smile a bit.
"Some party trick won't be able to scare me off, you magnificent fool! I am invincible. I am indestructible. I am eternal. I am the flame. I am the wind. I am destruction! One of the beings blessed to roam the world until it ends. I am forever and nothing can't stop me!.
Hemble turned his head towards him, lifting himself up on all fours, now his smile being more devilish than before.
"You aren't the only one cursed with eternity, Lordie" he coughed. "You aren't the only one who was to witness the rise and downfall of civilizations, who saw people come and go of this world, who saw mountains fall and new ones to rise. But now the end has come and it's time to seize to exist!"
"You can't end me, you moron!" screamed the Dark Lord" There have been thousands bef..."
Hemble interrupted.
"You and I are the same." And he jumped, now faster than a lightning towards the unexpecting Lord.
"You can't end me!"
"Then I shall end us both!" He took a deep breath "For my lost friends!"
The clash was felt around the world. A strike so powerful, it was witnessed by every creature on the world. More powerful than the hardest earthquake, the strongest storm or the loudest thunder. And after that silence. Pure, dead silence.
Hemble and the Dark Lord were gone. And the world was safe. For now.
| 2020-07-11T04:33:58 | 2020-07-11T04:20:41 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] "Daddy are angels and demons the same thing?" Your daughter cries. "That depends, why do you ask, honey?" you inquire. "They come every night. Both have too long fingers, jagged teeth, and wheels within wheels within wheels for eyes. They keep asking me to choose."
|
Paul stared quietly at his daughter. Tina had warned him it would happen eventually, but he still isn't fucking happy. And to \*dare\* try and force \*their\* daughter to choose?
He hides his anger, bending forward and kissing Laura on the forehead. "Don't worry, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy will make them go away." He smiles down at her as she snuggles in her bed, staring back at him with eyes so like her mothers. Eyes that drew him out of his own personal Hell oh so long ago. He turns and smiles as he wife comes in. As they do every night, he moves against the wall to watch over them both as Tina sings a gentle lullaby.
He waits until he is certain Laura is asleep before he grans Tina and drags her Sideways with him. She spins on him, shocked. In the Astral, their true forms are shown. So radiant, his Angel. Before they met and fell in love, she had been one of the Seraphim, a warrior of the Light. Silver robed, with feathered wings the colour of opals. Eyes a clear blue, and hair the colour of honey. Perfect, at least to him, in every way. Beautiful in ways he will never be. Black scales over a exagerated muscular form, stretched out just enough to be unnatural. The scales are thicker and armour like over what would normally be considered vulnerable spots on a human. Though a Demon like him could never be considered vulnerable.
"What blessed reason did you just do that \*when our daughter is right there!\* What if she saw-"
"Woman, they've been coming to her."
He holds himself very still as he watches her face. His innocent, loving wife. His Angel. His slowly getting furious warrior woman. Her voice is cold when she asks, "Which they?"
His own Rage is evident as he says, "Both. Both come to our creation demanding she choose."
Neither move, staring at each other. The cosmos, for a single moment, holds still. As one they turn and look at their child, a creature of pure potential. A creation formed of their love. She quietly asks, "How far dare we go?"
He doesn't get a chance to answer. Into the Astral appear two pairs of entities. She spins to face the Angels, and he snarls and spins on the demons.
Variel and Tasriel, both seraphim, face Tina with pity in their eyes. Askanreak, an incubus, and Suomere, a fellow demon of Rage, face Paul.
Tyreal speaks quietly to Tina. "Lenariel, stand aside. We can, and will, not. You may have been corrupted by Armanthar, but she can still be saved."
Ashanreak laughs as he gloats, "The little one will be choosing us, not you. I've never once failed to gain a woman's affection." He smiles crudely over at Laura, completely certain her parents won't attack. And for good reason he thinks that.
Should Tina attack her fellows, she will Fall. It has been difficult, but she is as yet still a creature of Light. And while Paul could attack the demons, he can't trust the Angels not to move towards Laura.
But both Demons and Angels have erred twice. First, to dare target \*their\* precious little one. Second, to fail to remember one thing about being married.
Couples share each others burdens.
It has been a few hundred years since either went to battle, but both Paul and Tina were created for war. And they had yet to be bested when something that mattered wass on the line.
A blur. A gasp. Pale gold blood spraying in an arc. Tyriel falls back as Paul turns to Tasriel and smiles, the dying angels throat still between his teeth for a moment before he swallows it. Behind him is a shreak, as a sword of blue flame cleaves Ashanreak in twain, burning him to ash. The surviving emissaries fall back, stunned and uncertain. As one, the usually loving couple move, and for a moment, remember who they were before they met.
&#x200B;
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
&#x200B;
Dawn greets a happy house. Laura sits humming at the table, eating her cereal. Paul is working at the stove, cooking omelets for himself and Tina. Vegetarian for her, of course. She always gets a bit squeamish after he eats someone. He has a bit of a limp, but is otherwise unharmed. Freaking Tasriel managed to clip him, as he died.
Tina has a small bandage across her nose. She caught a headbutt, but thankfully she healed the broken bone and the worst of the swelling. She figured it would be easier to sell the two of them chasing the monsters away if Paul wasn't the only one scuffed up.
It wouldn't be much longer before they had to sit their little one down for a talk. About Heaven and Hell, Angels and Demons, and the War they wage. But until then, they would guard her innocence. As long as they could.
And between the two of them, that would have to be long enough.
|
I remember everything like it was yesterday, 20 years ago Amy’s voice called down from upstairs.
“Daddy!?”
“Yes, Amy?”
“Are angels and demons the same thing?”
Shit, no, not now, your mother almost home. What day is it? Oct 31st with a full moon, shit of course it’s now, we should have planned for this. 70 odd years ago it was her grand mother that had to choose. “Depends, on who is asking the question honey, is it for Sister Mary’s class or Father Dominic?” I texted Angie, 666&667 @home
“Well, neither, two are in my room asking me to choose..”
Two?! Oh no, oh no, no time, where are the coins?...”how do you know they are either one honey?” I txt Father Dominic 666&667, Amy
“They look just how Father Dominic said they would, you know, the long fingers, sharp teeth, and those weird eyes, lot of little wheels”
“Ah ok” shit shit shit “well what are they asking about to choose” I grab the silver coin and gold coins from the mantle and start to head up stairs.
“They keep asking to pick, Crunchy or Soft tacos”
Are you fucking kidding me? 70 years of the family fearing every Halloween and these two ask about tacos? I final make to it her room. Yeah, its tacos, the two of them are on the floor with wrappers all around. They are slightly surprised that I can see them. One speaks to me right into my mind. Wait a second...
YOU MUST BE OF JOSEPH’S BLOOD LINE TO SEE US.
this is no angel, Amy proclaimed “this is Genesius, a saint made whole again for one night on earth and this is...”
I cut Amy off, “why the nonsense? tonight off all nights?”
“Why I get to play dress up of course and hang out a bit with you fine folks...” Genesius began
That’s the very moment I saw the holy light. It came into the room like a tidal wave as my wife slammed into the room. I had momentarily forgotten that I sent 667 to Angie. Shit this was going to be a home remodel. The holy light itself had a weight to it, like a gale level wind and it proceeded Angie, my wife. So yeah Angie is one of the nine named Holy Paladins of the Arch Angel Michael. And she strode into to the room wearing the a chest plate made of bronze and ivory, a flaming shield covered by the eternal flame itself, and an 2000 plus year old Roman iron hammer that contained one of the nails from the crosses on the mound, damn she had come for game day.
The hammer crashed down the other ones head, I never got his name. Black blood sprayed across the walls. Genesius recoiled as fast as his fake angel/demon form would allow, screaming “wait, wait, it was a just a joke, we just wanted some tac...” Angie, in full battle mode did not hear him, the eternal flame surrounded him and squeezed. He went to scream and it was smoke that left his mouth, Genesius was engulfed in holy flames burning from the inside out. I moved to cover Amy from such a horrible sight. Even a holy saint back on earth looking to have some food and fun night out being burned alive is just as mind bending horrible as you think it is. And then in a moment it was over. As quickly as Angie had appeared in full holy Paladin battle form, it all vanished, as she reached for us on the bed.
“MOM...” cried Amy
“it’s okay baby, moms here”
“...they just wanted tacos.”
Angie pulled her head back from Amy’s with a puzzle look, “who wanted tacos?”
“Genesius and Martha, they where just asking me if I wanted hard or soft tacos, they brought both”
And with that another blinding golden pillar of light filled room like a crackling energy ball, “what now” is all I could manage.
No being actually appeared. Once my eyes adjusted I could see there was a small flame hovering in the middle of the room. And a calming rich deep bass filled voice just consumed every inch of the space.
“Angie, all is forgiven. Genesius and Martha are fine and they’ve understand what they did wrong.”
“Forgiven, how was that even a point of contemplation, Micheal!” Angie sternly stated as a matter fact. Is my wife getting sassy with an ArchAngel? So totally bad ass, I’m going get laid tonight.
“Yes, John you are going to and Angie you are right of course, if you will allow them. They would like to return to your house, in a more normal form for what time they have left this evening.”
My wife looked at me and all the anger left her body, she sank into a deeper hug with Amy and sighed a simple short “sure”
I blurted out, “and they better bring guacamole this time” it was all I could come up with.
Not five seconds later a short gentle man walked into the room with a brown bag filled with basket tacos, Father Dominic. “Sorry I’m late, I made a stop when Martha appeared in front of the car, she filled me in, sounds like an interesting night. Was that Michael, just now?” He asked.
| 2020-10-31T09:54:27 | 2020-10-31T09:33:11 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] “Yeah we didn’t approach humanity cause we don’t like hiveminds,” the alien said on the interview. “Humans aren’t a hive mind.” The interviewer said. “What do you mean? Humans are the biggest hive mind in the universe?”
|
The being sitting at the bottom of the cargo ramp looked up from his tablet in confusion.
"I asked if you were the ones advertising the job opening for engineering crew. My wife and I would like to apply."
A great clatter of falling metal pipes echoed across the dock, adding its voice to the background noise of welding, riveting, and hammering permeating the maintenance bay.
"Uhh, and you are?" the alien asked.
"My name is Henry."
"And you can call me Marge. We heard you have some openings on your crew. We are interested."
"I do not believe you were what the captain had in mind for the position."
"Excuse us, I know there are not many humans out this far, but we have both been crew members on human ships for the last 15 years. I can rebuild a hyperdrive with my eyes closed, and Henry can patch together an air scrubber from nothing but your garbage." said Marge, anger creeping in to her voice.
"We also know that you have been approaching floaters and free agents to fill these positions for the past two weeks. Since you're still advertising, they are clearly still open," added Henry.
The shriek of metal grinders from the next bay drowned out all the other sounds and bought the alien a few seconds to look over the pair of humans and consider his response.
"Look, we did not approach any humans because we don’t like hiveminds", the alien said once the noise stopped.
"That isn't right, Humans aren't a hive mind." said Marge.
"What do you mean? Humans are the biggest hive mind in the universe!"
Marge and Henry turned to look at each other quizzically as the grinding noises picked up again briefly.
"There! Right there. We can all see when you are communicating without speaking, sharing your thoughts. No thank you. Operating out here on the fringe is risky enough. We won't fly with beings we cannot trust." The alien got up quickly and started packing up his tablet and chair, continuing to steal hurried glances at the humans.
Henry frowned, clearly this conversation was over, and probably for the best. He and Marge started to turn away when another human approached.
"Hey Marge, Henry. What did I tell ya?" the new human asked with a smile. Turning to the alien and dropping the smile he asked, "Hung up on that hivemind thing, right?"
The alien turned and ran up the ramp.
"Gah! Now there are three of them!"
|
I stared across the table for a few seconds while my mind processed his statement. "If I might, I think you might be confusing us with another new species. Humans just joined the Galactic community twenty years ago. Our home planet is pretty far away from here, and we definitely aren't a hivemind."
"No I'm fairly sure I remember; it causes quite a stir when they were first discovered." It looked down at a file on its desk. "Let's see; discovered 200 years ago as a single planetary species, pre-fusion population of 2.3 billion, staggeringly high for non-collectivist entities. First signals detected seemed to be electromagnetic signals discussing conflicting hivemind entities, including one 'Nazi Germany' which aimed to dominate the entire planet and eliminate other hiveminds, particularly one 'Union of Soviet Socialist Republics'." The alien looked up from his monitor. "This information is correct, yes?"
I'm ashamed to say my jaw was noticably agape at this point. "Well yes, but that doesn't prove anything. That was also a pretty unrepresentative time on Earth to be honest. Surly most advanced species have political entities with substantial power."
"Yes, that evidence was indicative, though not conclusive. The extreme and individually irrational devotion to the cause of the entity indicated a high potential for mental linkage, but the possibility otherwise was entertained. The Exploration Guild sent an expedition that arrived about 60 years later that captured a number of live samples for analysis to confirm early suspicions. Apparently the first few samples they collected went mad shortly after leaving Earth; attacked the scientists, accused them of wanting to stick things inside them, or wear their bodies to infiltrate humanity. Both the madness, and the specific accusations, furthered the hivemind hypothesis."
"Come on, they were confused. Anyone could be driven a bit mad at finding out you're not alone in the universe."
"Indeed. However, the final report here states that they did eventually get a young human that didn't go mad, nearly 100 years after the initial signal detection, when the population had grown to an absolutely astounding 7 billion and the species had entirely transformed its biosphere before harnessing large scale fusion. On questioning, the human claimed he could not give answers to most of the questions asked, stating that by taking him away from Earth they had 'disconnected' him from 'The Web'. Questioning on this 'Web' indicated that it connected all humans together near instantaneously, and that the human was entirely reliant on it for all social interaction. At that point it was fairly cut and dry, so we dropped him back on Earth and marked the area as extremely hazardous."
| 2020-11-29T21:13:02 | 2020-11-29T20:10:23 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] After crying in your room for hours, suddenly you hear a voice under the bed. "Hey, you okay?"
|
“What are you doing under there? No, I’m not okay.” I say to my younger brother Peter. “Mother says we’re moving, she says she can’t bear living in this house another day. We’re leaving in an hour to stay at a hotel!”
Peter crawls out from under the bed and looks up at me confused. “I’m sure she’ll find somewhere perfectly nice Mary, there’s no need to cry” he says consolingly. “Maybe it’ll even stop mother from crying most of the time.”
It will. I know it will. Since the accident happened, this house has brought her nothing but bad memories and pain. But she doesn’t understand the consequences of leaving. She doesn’t know what I know.
“Besides, maybe father will come back if we move!” He continues excitedly. My heart sinks. He doesn’t understand either.
“Peter, I don’t think you’re going to be able to see father for a very long time. Not the way you and I can see each other.”
Disappointment sets in his face. My heart sinks again. Tears begin working their way down my face again. None of this is fair. If only mother would listen to me when I tell her we’ll never see him again if we leave.
“But if we move he might—“
“Peter you don’t understand,” I cut him off. I have to tell him the truth. “If we leave you won’t see Father again. Ghosts can’t leave the house that they died in.”
Confusion sets in his face. “Ghosts? Fathers a ghost?” He asks.
My heart is broken. He was so young when the accident happened. He doesn’t remember. “Peter, if we leave it won’t be just Father you don’t see. It’ll be Mother too. It’ll be me.”
Panic overtakes confusion. “What do you mean?”
I reach out to brush his face as my tears turn to waterfalls but my hand passes right through him. “Because Peter,” I say softly. “You’re the ghost.”
|
“AH!”
I scream out, jumping from the tear soaked covers of my bed.
“Who’s there!” I say, grabbing my bed-side lamp, and swinging it around as if it were a bat.
“Don’t worry. I mean no harm crying human!”
I could hear the voice echo throughout my room, it was rough, scratchy, something straight out of a horror movie. The source of the voice...my bed.
“My pillows can talk?!”
I ask, flipping over my pillows to reveal whatever lips they spoke from.
“What- no! Kid I’m the monster under your bed!”
The voice said, it’s raspy voice now spoke with a mildly confused tone.
“I knew you could talk pillows! No way our kisses were that passionate!” I say aloud, throwing my arms around the silky sheet-covered fluff.
“Bro..you kiss your pillows?” The voice said, trying it’s best to hold in its rising chuckle.
I drop the pillow, “yes, I do! you act as if you’ve ever kissed anyone either voice!”
The voice gasped, “how dare you! I have missed many people. my mother says im a very handsome beast!”
I snarled out, “your mother lied voice! you are hideous!”
“You don’t even know what I look like!” The voice said, and with that, a beast arose from under my bed, with black fur, red eyes, and scars lining his face, he truly was a horrifying sight.
“Calm your tits human, I know I’m hot.”
My jaw hit the floor, he was the most attractive beast I’ve ever seen.
“My uncle dresses up as a furry...but you...you are the most beautiful fur-covered man I have ever seen!” I squealed, jumping onto the beast.
“Marry me crying human!” The beast bellowed.
“I accept!” I yell out. He then picked me up and jumped through the window, and we ran into the sun set.
The end.
| 2021-03-16T06:04:06 | 2021-03-16T04:59:28 | 194 | 20 |
[WP] After crying in your room for hours, suddenly you hear a voice under the bed. "Hey, you okay?"
|
“What are you doing under there? No, I’m not okay.” I say to my younger brother Peter. “Mother says we’re moving, she says she can’t bear living in this house another day. We’re leaving in an hour to stay at a hotel!”
Peter crawls out from under the bed and looks up at me confused. “I’m sure she’ll find somewhere perfectly nice Mary, there’s no need to cry” he says consolingly. “Maybe it’ll even stop mother from crying most of the time.”
It will. I know it will. Since the accident happened, this house has brought her nothing but bad memories and pain. But she doesn’t understand the consequences of leaving. She doesn’t know what I know.
“Besides, maybe father will come back if we move!” He continues excitedly. My heart sinks. He doesn’t understand either.
“Peter, I don’t think you’re going to be able to see father for a very long time. Not the way you and I can see each other.”
Disappointment sets in his face. My heart sinks again. Tears begin working their way down my face again. None of this is fair. If only mother would listen to me when I tell her we’ll never see him again if we leave.
“But if we move he might—“
“Peter you don’t understand,” I cut him off. I have to tell him the truth. “If we leave you won’t see Father again. Ghosts can’t leave the house that they died in.”
Confusion sets in his face. “Ghosts? Fathers a ghost?” He asks.
My heart is broken. He was so young when the accident happened. He doesn’t remember. “Peter, if we leave it won’t be just Father you don’t see. It’ll be Mother too. It’ll be me.”
Panic overtakes confusion. “What do you mean?”
I reach out to brush his face as my tears turn to waterfalls but my hand passes right through him. “Because Peter,” I say softly. “You’re the ghost.”
|
“AH!”
I scream out, jumping from the tear soaked covers of my bed.
“Who’s there!” I say, grabbing my bed-side lamp, and swinging it around as if it were a bat.
“Don’t worry. I mean no harm crying human!”
I could hear the voice echo throughout my room, it was rough, scratchy, something straight out of a horror movie. The source of the voice...my bed.
“My pillows can talk?!”
I ask, flipping over my pillows to reveal whatever lips they spoke from.
“What- no! Kid I’m the monster under your bed!”
The voice said, it’s raspy voice now spoke with a mildly confused tone.
“I knew you could talk pillows! No way our kisses were that passionate!” I say aloud, throwing my arms around the silky sheet-covered fluff.
“Bro..you kiss your pillows?” The voice said, trying it’s best to hold in its rising chuckle.
I drop the pillow, “yes, I do! you act as if you’ve ever kissed anyone either voice!”
The voice gasped, “how dare you! I have missed many people. my mother says im a very handsome beast!”
I snarled out, “your mother lied voice! you are hideous!”
“You don’t even know what I look like!” The voice said, and with that, a beast arose from under my bed, with black fur, red eyes, and scars lining his face, he truly was a horrifying sight.
“Calm your tits human, I know I’m hot.”
My jaw hit the floor, he was the most attractive beast I’ve ever seen.
“My uncle dresses up as a furry...but you...you are the most beautiful fur-covered man I have ever seen!” I squealed, jumping onto the beast.
“Marry me crying human!” The beast bellowed.
“I accept!” I yell out. He then picked me up and jumped through the window, and we ran into the sun set.
The end. No
| 2021-03-16T06:04:06 | 2021-03-16T04:59:29 | 194 | 14 |
[WP] After crying in your room for hours, suddenly you hear a voice under the bed. "Hey, you okay?"
|
The walls of the room shook as I let tears flow into the pillow. The world had betrayed me. And there was no one to help ease the pain. After I had done crying, I sat up in my bed, leaning against the wall that bordered one side of it, and let my head drop between my knees.
Suddenly, from under my bed, a voice said, "Hey, you okay?"
Looking back, I could say that the voice had a familiar ring to it. But then, sitting in my bed, exhausted from the outpouring of emotions, no such thought entered my mind.
"I'm not," I said, not lifting my head above my knees, afraid of what the world had in store for me.
"What happened?" the voice was soft and comforting.
"Father slapped me. For no reason at all," I said and started sobbing again.
"People make mistakes. I am sure he feels bad about it."
The words passed through my mind without any effect. "Father, he slapped me. I only asked him a question."
"What question did you ask?"
"It was nothing bad! I just asked him if he was a communist, and he slapped me!"
"That's rough. Did he say anything afterward?"
"No."
"Do you know what communist means?"
"No."
"Ah. That's very rough."
"It is," I said and lifted my head up. The room was dark. Nobody was in there with me.
"At least you can talk about it to your mother. She'll understand."
The voice came from under the bed. I dropped to my knees and stared into the darkness.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Me? Why don't you look in and see for yourself?"
I lifted the dangling bedsheet and peered in. A warm dark hand grabbed me and pulled me inside.
I now write from the dungeon of the Dark Mother. There are many kids my age with me.
"Our bodies are still alive, our souls are still alive, the Dark Mother just took the child from the soul and locked it away," they say.
|
“AH!”
I scream out, jumping from the tear soaked covers of my bed.
“Who’s there!” I say, grabbing my bed-side lamp, and swinging it around as if it were a bat.
“Don’t worry. I mean no harm crying human!”
I could hear the voice echo throughout my room, it was rough, scratchy, something straight out of a horror movie. The source of the voice...my bed.
“My pillows can talk?!”
I ask, flipping over my pillows to reveal whatever lips they spoke from.
“What- no! Kid I’m the monster under your bed!”
The voice said, it’s raspy voice now spoke with a mildly confused tone.
“I knew you could talk pillows! No way our kisses were that passionate!” I say aloud, throwing my arms around the silky sheet-covered fluff.
“Bro..you kiss your pillows?” The voice said, trying it’s best to hold in its rising chuckle.
I drop the pillow, “yes, I do! you act as if you’ve ever kissed anyone either voice!”
The voice gasped, “how dare you! I have missed many people. my mother says im a very handsome beast!”
I snarled out, “your mother lied voice! you are hideous!”
“You don’t even know what I look like!” The voice said, and with that, a beast arose from under my bed, with black fur, red eyes, and scars lining his face, he truly was a horrifying sight.
“Calm your tits human, I know I’m hot.”
My jaw hit the floor, he was the most attractive beast I’ve ever seen.
“My uncle dresses up as a furry...but you...you are the most beautiful fur-covered man I have ever seen!” I squealed, jumping onto the beast.
“Marry me crying human!” The beast bellowed.
“I accept!” I yell out. He then picked me up and jumped through the window, and we ran into the sun set.
The end. No
| 2021-03-16T06:16:41 | 2021-03-16T04:59:29 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] The precursor civilization sure left behind some weird artifacts. Things like a mountain with faces carved into it, strange reflective discs with runes on one side, and black rectangles made of glass. Researchers strive to understand such things.
|
There has been a recent breakthrough, as one small team of researchers managed to reverse-engineer one of the small flexible lightning rods that seemed to prevalent in precursor culture. Another individual researcher found a seemingly undamaged glass slab, several holes in one end, one of which matches one end of the small lightning rods previously mentioned. They plan to meet with the team and experiment with this new development. This discovery could revolutionize everything we know about the precursors!
&#x200B;
In other news, an archeology team recently discovered a small container with several well preserved objects inside. Most, despite being the best condition finds of these objects, are still broken, but one seems to still be in one piece. It came in its own box, and has a peculiar folding shape to it as if two of the glass slabs had most of the glass removed and were stuck to each other. There are several buttons and small holes on the inner faces, and what appears to be a slot on the back of the strange object. The box it was found in contained several tiny slabs which appear to be the right size to fit within this slot, and the box, the slabs, and the object itself are all marked with the same strange set of runes: "^(NINTENDO)DS"
So far no one has been able to make sense of this, as while these runes individually are a common occurrence, this particular arrangement does not seem to have a meaning.
|
"Huh... Looks like another dingle-hopper for the scrap pile, Boris." The canid barks twice, and I shrug. "Hey, last time we got lucky and found one of those hymn plates. Maybe we can find something cool today, like a sifter block or one of those weird bang-makers." Boris whimpers, and I scratch his ears. "Don't worry, pup. I'll make sure there's meat on both our plates for the week." I say, as my stomach grumbles. Nightmeal wasn't for another three casts, sadly, so I had to keep looking if I wanted to eat before then.
Boris barks excitedly when he sees something, and leads me to it. We undig it, and it's some kind of board with little wheels on it. "Good stuff, pupperoni! You found a radslab! This is worth beef, at least!" I tested the rads, and found they were in excellent shape, the plastic slab they were attached to was sturdy, as well. Boris kept digging, though, and he found more of them. My eyes went wide. A motherlode of radslabs, this could make scrapping way more efficient and we'd finally beat those jerks at Dinkledome on the weekly tabs! I mark the spot on my place sheet, and return to Picklesdome to drop off my first load of scrap, Boris leading the way as he ran ahead.
| 2021-03-24T00:48:48 | 2021-03-23T22:16:29 | 117 | 76 |
[WP] “You humans are a particularly violent bunch. In fact, you where the first in the whole galaxy to weaponize splitting the atom.” “But we only used it against an enemy twic-” “TWICE??”
|
I moved my bishop across the board, then flicked his rook off the table, sending it clanking across the illuminated tiles of the cantina.
“Check,” I said, gleefully.
“You humans are a particularly violent bunch.” The Aslar said to me, frowning, surveying the board. “In fact, you were the first in the whole galaxy to weaponize splitting the atom.”
I smiled at him. “But we only used it against an enemy twic-”
“TWICE??” he shouted, the sensory appendages twitching on his face.
“It’s a miracle we didn’t use it anymore. Trust me.”
“Even this game you play. Chess. It is strange to me. It is only destructive. You start with a full kingdom of pawns and rooks and bishops and kings and queens, and slowly you kill each other. A battle of attrition and guile and a strategy of annihilation. I’m no good at this game, Jeffery.”
“Well,” I said to my old friend. “Luckily for you and the rest of the Aslars in our alliance, my marines and I are more than happy to play the game. This "strategy of annihilation" as you say. In fact, you could say we are experts at it.”
“We are not talking about the game anymore, are we Jeffery?” Xan’tharr said, moving his king.
“Do you know why your Emperor hired us, Xan’Tharr? A fleet of human mercenaries?”
He didn’t say anything.
“It is because I can sit here and talk to you like a friend when we are at peace. But if we are at war, Xan’tharr,” I said, sliding my queen, slowly, dramatically. “Check mate.”
Xan’Tharr waved at the game in disgust with his tri-tentacled hand.
“But why? Why are you so violent? Why do you seem to thrive in hardship? Was life so desperate for your species?”
“Compared to the Aslars?” I laughed. “Yes, Xan’Tharr, you would call it desperate. Very desperate.”
“Well, I am sorry to hear that. But it is good to have friends like you,” Xan’Tharr said. “I would not want to be on your bad side.”
“You?” I said to Xan’Tharr, grinning mischievously, “that would never happen.”
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
|
A: You humans are a violent bunch. You were the first in the galaxy to weaponize splitting the atom.
H: We only used it twice.
A: Twice!?
H: The first time didn't work.
A: Thousands of members of your species didn't die?
H: The first atom bomb was set off to end a war, but the war didn't end. So they used another.
A: And more people died. The ends justify the means?
H: Maybe. I don't know. It's a big question. How do you get people to stop killing?
A: That certainly is a good question, and it's one I can't help you with. Aside from yours and mine, there are 84 sapient species in the galaxy. None of them go to war.
H: Ever?
A: That's right.
H: What do they do when there isn't enough stuff to go around?
A: Stuff?
H: You know. Food. Metal. Land. Energy. The stuff of life.
A: They compromise.
H: Bad solution. Compromises leave everyone unhappy.
A: Better to be unhappy than dead, no?
H: I don't know about that. There's times when a compromise is flat-out the wrong answer. Sometimes one side is plain right and the other is plain wrong.
A: And so, war.
H: We try to avoid it, but yeah. That's when you get war.
A: And war leads to splitting the atom.
H: It did that one time.
A: Those two times, you mean.
H: But it doesn't anymore. Now there aren't any huge wars like there used to be.
A: Oh, yes? Your species learned its lesson?
H: In a way.
A: You witnessed the destructive power of the atom, recognized that more war means more split atoms, and put an end to the entire practice.
H: Not quite. We went the other way.
A: Meaning?
H: On the earth right now there are enough nuclear bombs to kill every single human.
A: And this has ended your big wars.
H: Exactly! See, we're not as crazy as you think.
A: I've come to a decision regarding your application for galactic membership.
H: What's that?
A: Your planet will be encased in a force shield and denied access to space beyond the orbit of your moon. We'll reopen your case in a few hundred years' time when your species may have matured.
| 2021-04-01T23:03:01 | 2021-04-01T20:21:00 | 946 | 463 |
[WP] You are a part of a cult that believes the end of the world is near. Unlike most doomsday cults your group is made up of ex-scientists who discovered an ancient evil deep within the earth, and found that it was due to awaken in a few weeks time.
|
>**Abstract:**
>Data collection of seismic activity between active volcanos has been woefully inadequate. Gaps in sensor coverage caused by insufficient techniques and materials used in the construction of sensor networks result in incomplete data sets that require new algorithms simply to extrapolate the missing data. We designed a new framework to more completely detect seismic and volcanic activity, resulting in higher quality data transmission and higher SNR, lower downtime, and an overall more complete concept of what occurs below. Furthermore, we discuss the preliminary findings of the data, the impact it has had on the field of volcanic fluid mechanics, geophysics, and the inevitable end of humanity in a few short weeks.
***
“I *told* you, you’re doing the indices wrong. MATLAB starts with one,” Dr. Pratchett said.
“That’s preposterous,” replied Dr. Piers. “No self-respecting programmer would create a one-indexed language.”
“This isn’t a self-respecting language,” Dr. Pratchett said. “It’s not even really a language. It’s a glorified engineering calculator.”
“Then why are *we* using it?” Dr. Piers asked. “I keep telling you, we should just throw together a Python script.”
“We don’t have that much time!” Dr. Pratchett said. “That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living declared that he has been awakened, and that was *two weeks ago*. If we want to get this thing published and peer-reviewed to warn the world, we need to finish this project *now*.”
Dr. Piers snorted. “You underestimate me, Jerry. I can get a script whipped up before you can even blink.”
“Will you *please* shut up?” I growled. “I need to finish typing out the conclusion and I won’t manage that with you two baboons howling over there.”
Dr. Piers and Dr. Pratchett glanced at each other. “Well, sorry, little miss diva. I didn’t realize *post-docs* were such brats these days.”
I sighed and continued writing.
“Just go back to MATLAB, you idiot!” Dr. Pratchett said. “There’s no way you’ll get your script running correctly in time to get this published!”
“It won’t take that long!” Dr. Piers said. “I only need a few days. A week tops.”
“We don’t *have* a week! If we want to induct humanity into the Cult of the One Which Consumes the Souls of the Living and save One of Twelve of One of Twelve as his Word dictates, we need to *publish*!”
“Yes, but if I get this done in Python then we have a bit more flexibility as to the exact algorithm that is applied to the data! ODE45 is just a lacking tool. I bet if I fiddle with it a bit, we can get an even more accurate time stamp, and I *strongly* suspect that we have more time than we think!”
“No, you dolt, we *don’t!* MATLAB indices start at one!”
“That’s preposterous,” said Dr. Piers. “No self-respecting programmer would start at one.”
“Oh, for...” I sighed. “I hate the both of you. I really do. I hope that neither of you is in the One of Twelve of One of Twelve.”
Dr. Piers glared at me. “And *I* hope that That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living takes CV into consideration when the Final Judgement comes. I can’t imagine that someone who can’t even land an associate professorship would be one of the One of Twelve of One of Twelve.”
I unplugged my laptop and stood. “I”m going to Dr. Harrison’s office,” I growled. “*He* has an espresso machine.”
Piers and Pratchett glared at me. “Hail the One That Consumes. May His long rest never be hungry again,” they said in unison.
“Hail to Him. May our souls please him,” I finished, leaving the office.
***
>**Conclusion:**
>Overwhelming evidence indicates that the data was correctly interpreted. That Which Consumes the Souls of the Living will come. Those who are pure of heart must join the Cult of the One Which Consumes the Souls of the Living and give Him deference so as to be One of Twelve of One of Twelve. This conclusion is supported by Barr et al. whose data analysis framework suggests that the results have a p-value less than 0.0001. Furthermore, it is clear that Henderson et al. were correct about the outcomes of their 2013 experiment and that the existing data sets were incomplete. Extrapolation of that data set did not match our new data, suggesting their conclusion about the inactivity of supervolcanos along fault lines was incorrect. Trang et al. agree, noting that the patterns in ancient sedimentary deposits do not agree with modern predictions. This team recommends that further study of the geological cycle be studied except it is futile. Hail the One That Consumes. May His long rest never be hungry [again](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks).
|
"Sir! Sir! You've got to read this!"
Peter, who was sitting in the lounge in deep thoughts, came to and looked to his left, where James was standing.
"Sir! We've received report from the Osaka division that they've gotten new readings! You have to see this!" James said, while gasping for air after having sprinted from the observatory.
"Let me see." Peter said. James handed over the reports, and Peter looked at it, with increasing worry on his face."This is not good, it confirms our theory that something, something really big, is alive down there. This measurements indicates that it's something organic causing them, they are not the usual tremors that would cause earthquakes."
Peter and James are part of a scientist group based on the east coast, a few miles north of Ottowa. May, Peters wife, who worked as archeology and would visit newfound ruins or temples, had one day found a relic of a book, something that was written hundreds of years ago. The book was hard to understand, whoever had written it was not coherent in their writing, but the pieces that could be made out of it was 'unnatural enviornmental behvours', 'earthquake' and 'living ancient monster'.
At first Peter thought the book was just joking, a bed time story for childre. But within May's profession she was able to authenticate the book, and the studies that had been made indicated that it was written by someone who was smart for their time, and it contained complexities that wouldn't fit for it to be a bed time storybook.
Peter didn't think much about it afterwards, not until James, a junior co-worker who had just started in Peters company, had inquired about some readings regarding a few earthquakes that had occurred recently. It was James that saw that there was something unnatural with the readings, they felt illogical, somehow alive. They weren't caused by the tectonic plates, though it was hard to see that unless you were specifically looking for it.
Peter couldn't stop thinking about the book. Surely it was too coincidental that he was shown the book and James discovering his findings? But something still nagged at him. Peter went through the reports, compared them, and surely found that if one looked hard enough, could see some irregularities.
Knowing that if he went public with the findings it could cause mass panic, hysteria or worse. If he showed the army about it or the politicians they would just laugh about it, or think that he had gone crazy. Peter decided that he needed to keep it down low, and create his own group of people, scientists, that understands the gravity of the situation, and do something about it.
Peter started to take actions immediately. The following day he decided that the only person from his company he could trust, and was bright enough to help with figuring this out, was James. James agreed to Peter in his assessment and what needs to be done. Peter thought it would be harder to convince James, but was glad it wasn't.
Peter and James started recruiting for their group as inconspicuously as possible, and only people they felt they could trust. But having everyone doing more research into this from the same location didn't feel optimal, so Peter offered a couple of them to work overseas, recruit there and assist with the research. That's how the Osaka Division was made. In total they are around 30 scientists that were working on this. Peter knows that to combat whatever this is, to find the truth, he would need to expand even further, and fast.
Somehow a word had slipped out that there are people part of a doomsday cultgroup in Ottowa. Fortunately, that's all they know. They don't know the members or any details of what the doomsday it is. Most likely they are referring to Peters group. A small part had spread, as some minor local paper had one day headline "small group looking to find ancient devil who will bring ruin to our world!"
When Peter found out he told everyone that they must under all circumstances avoid talking about thier findings at any cost outside of the bunker. The last thing they need is the government finding out what they are doing and conducting a investigation, halting all research.
Back in the lounge, Peter looked at James, having a very serious expression "James, since you've been analysing this the most, how much has it escalated compared to our first findings?"
"To be frank, sir, it's hard to say. But it is clear that the activity has increased. What has May found out regarding the book, have they made progress if it is related to this?"
"Their progress on the book has been slow, unfortunately. But the more they discover, the more it feels connected. The most relevant parts are still its descriptions of increased earthquakes until **It** will appear, and doom us all."
"Sir, how are we supposed to combat that we don't even know what it is?" James asked worriedly. "We don't even know how much time we have left. Whatever this thing is, it could emerge at any given time."
"I know." Peter responded. Then he went back into his thoughts, trying to figure out what they need to do. They need more information, more data, more people. He couldn't stop shaking a nagging feeling that their time is about to run out.
| 2021-04-27T07:34:48 | 2021-04-27T06:11:51 | 159 | 48 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do.
|
"What do you mean they've worked it out beforehand?"
"Exactly that, my queen, in excruciating detail I might add," the Fergundus hive Brood Daughter said as she used her needles to flick through the human text documents they recovered from the crashed vessel. She had stayed up for a week reading them and hadn't even scratched the surface. There were over 70 million words in the archive relating to insectoid/human combat alone.
"It is of no matter!" the queen yelled. "We will infect their water supply with the carrionphage worms. They will be shambli-"
"Wouldn't work, ma'am. They all take an anti-worm pill daily per a protocol when operating through our space, not to mention fighting zombies would probably just cheer them up. They love fighting those things."
"What sick species loves fighting their own reanimated dead?" The queen threw up her thin arms to slap against her bulbous brood sacs.
The brood daughter shrugged. "Humans, apparently."
"Fine, we won't risk them growing stronger. We'll send an entire invasion hive to Earth."
"Maybe," the brood daughter said skeptically as she flicked through the documentation. "They have planned for that as well. They'll either poison us with an abundant chemical, defeat us before we even launch the fleet, or let us win and then defeat us in an uprising around six years later led by a hero who will then mate with the freed females over the ruins of our conquest."
"Why have they planned all this? They haven't even met our species yet. Why are they working through these contingencies?" the brood mother burbled in frustration. "It makes no sense."
"A strange quirk of the humans, my queen. They seem to each be running through hypothetical scenarios and how they would deal with them almost constantly. The most popular hypotheticals are shared through the entire network of humans so they all may think about dealing with it together. They even run computer simulations of these hypotheticals and compete for solving them the best or fastest. These ponderous beings are ready for almost anything. They call it imagination, I believe."
"Bah," the brood mother scoffed. "We'll see how-
Two distant explosions rumbled above, knocking bits of dust to fall down.
"What could possibly-" the brood mother started, before a rock bisected her head.
The roof on the palace burrow crashed in, letting in the light from miles above. A human lander vessel blared Fortunate Son as the doors slammed open. A flame thrower blast engulfed the brood daughter, cracking her smoking carapace as her queen let out her final breaths beside her. At least they would take these humans with them.
"Yeeehaw!" the human screamed as two others joined beside him. "This is basically Exterminards II. Look at the queen," he yelled, aiming his rifle before another grabbed the barrel and lowered it.
"She's almost certainly rigged to blow into flesh-eating acid and larvae," the female human said. "The gas will get them. We're just a first pass."
The brood daughter dug herself below the rubble, each clawing motion an agony through her burns. She risked reaching back up and grabbing the copy of the human database, 'The Complete Works of Science Fiction, volume 76' before burrowing lower. The hormones inside her brood sacs repressed by the being near the queen were already swelling to life, forcing her to dig wider and wider. The dirt and rock gave way easier as her queen strength grew. She would find a way to stop these Imagininers, whatever the cost.
/r/surinical
|
Jason stood in the alien swamp and looked around him. The place was deserted, or so it seemed at first glance. A veteran consumer of science fiction, Jason was quite aware of the possibilities. He also knew that naivete was the only way to drag whatever lurked in the swamp out of it. So he did exactly that, behave naively.
His high black boots plopped around the swamp, and he held his gun in a relaxed manner. An expression of dumb curiosity glazed over his face as he looked around him.
Then came the scuttling, the scurrying, the sounds of giant insects running about him, invisible but noisy. Ah, so it's one of those, Jason said to himself and readied himself for the alien mounted on a giant insect that would soon ambush him and try to kill him.
And there it came just as expected -- a little red-skinned man, lean and mean, with a quivering bow ready to fire an arrow at the supposedly naive visitor.
Jason, who had been expecting the man to show up right that moment, however, had other plans, and he promptly shot the head off of the insect the little red man was mounted upon.
With his gun pointed at the alien's head, Jason said, "What are you? Where am I?"
The alien said something in a language Jason did not understand. Of course, he had forgotten about the translator chip. Promptly Jason jammed a translator chip down the red alien's throat, and the message came to him loud and clear.
"Go away! Go back to where you came from. We are a proud race of warriors, and we will protect our planet till our dying breath!"
Jason sighed, one of those, he thought. "Where is your big ore of extremely precious mineral?" He asked in a disaffected voice.
"Mineral? Ore? What are you talking about?"
Yikes, Jason thought. How could he have forgotten? Of course, the little red warrior knew nothing of ores and minerals and the like.
"The..." Jason struggled to articulate himself. "The...whatever thing you use for a ritual. A big rock? An ancient tree? A place of power? Healing waterfall? I don't know."
"The Maghasa!"
"Yes, that," Jason said. "Now tell me where it is, or I'll blow your brains off as I did with your giant cockroach."
The red warrior alien glanced at his now headless animal. "Do with me what you like. I am a proud warrior. I won't sell my land out just for this pathetic, puny thing called life."
Now Jason knew that this man, despite his promising background as a seasoned warrior, would be of no help and would only cause problems further down the line. Promptly he reduced the red alien warrior to a headless red alien warrior.
Seeing that his job was done, Jason used the satellite phone issued to him and checked in with headquarters.
"They have a thing called Maghasa down here."
"Do you know exactly what it is?"
"No. Not my job, is it? Send the alien sympathizer down so he can find out. Airlift me as quick as possible. They'll come for my head, the red alien bastards. You know how it goes. I don't want to be the mandatory cautionary tale."
"Fine. We'll be picking you up in ten minutes at your location. Find some cover, don't be cocky, and beware of the wild beasts."
"Yes, I will be quite ready. I presume the boss's talks with the galactic council are proceeding as expected?"
"You're just a cronie. Stick to what you know."
"Yes, of course, I will."
Jason terminated the call and waited on high ground for any sneaky animals. He knew the drill.
| 2021-05-12T07:25:00 | 2021-05-12T07:10:31 | 2,746 | 452 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do.
|
"Now, before you go out to become a diplomat, there's some... media... that we require you to consume before you get the job."
"Oh, is there a guideboo-"
*Instructor dumps a ton of sci-fi literature onto the table, all of which collapse into a messy heap almost immediately*
"Oh, uh, so-"
*Instructor dumps a pile of old DVDs of sci-fi movies and shows onto the heap of books, with similar results on the heap's organization*
"No, no, this has to be a joke, I-"
*Instructor places a single hard drive containing a pirated copy of Stellaris on top of the DVDs*
"No. Get going. Now."
&#x200B;
101 words, *Perfect!*
|
What the humans didn't know the Sci-fi Genre is not what prepared them for these scenarios.
The Human Race was not from Earth but on another planet called Hultron. Where most species evolved high intelligence. But had to evacuate the planet after a Galactic Empire Civil War.
So, they sent an emergency spaceship to Ice Age Earth. But it crashed and the passengers went native. after a few generations. Forgetting their technology and living among native Neanderthals.
Generations later an ancestral memory programed into their DNA by Geneticists in case of emergency reactivated. It reactivated when people accidentally reinvented electricity. Causing Science Fiction author to have dream like visions of the past they believed to be speculative ideas of the future.
Human had to rediscover Hultron to fully realize what happened but they had a galaxy of dangers to fight first.
| 2021-05-12T09:55:16 | 2021-05-12T09:28:01 | 263 | 54 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do.
|
"It didn't have to be like this." The Envoy of the Galactic Council was saddened by this tragedy; shameful beyond all things he had yet experienced.
"We could have tried harder. Reached out on First Contact. Shared our technology." Spoke Another, one of the scattered hives in a voice resonating many millions. "A shame. They would have added such potential."
On the Lunar surface were the words "NOPE" written in all human languages, standard galactic, and some unknown tongues. The Human Race, it would seem, had made a beeline straight for the uncolonized zones of the galaxy, where none dared to tread.
"Do you think they will come back in peace?" Asked the Envoy, shaking his head.
"Peices more likely."
|
What the humans didn't know the Sci-fi Genre is not what prepared them for these scenarios.
The Human Race was not from Earth but on another planet called Hultron. Where most species evolved high intelligence. But had to evacuate the planet after a Galactic Empire Civil War.
So, they sent an emergency spaceship to Ice Age Earth. But it crashed and the passengers went native. after a few generations. Forgetting their technology and living among native Neanderthals.
Generations later an ancestral memory programed into their DNA by Geneticists in case of emergency reactivated. It reactivated when people accidentally reinvented electricity. Causing Science Fiction author to have dream like visions of the past they believed to be speculative ideas of the future.
Human had to rediscover Hultron to fully realize what happened but they had a galaxy of dangers to fight first.
| 2021-05-12T11:36:58 | 2021-05-12T09:28:01 | 120 | 54 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do.
|
"It didn't have to be like this." The Envoy of the Galactic Council was saddened by this tragedy; shameful beyond all things he had yet experienced.
"We could have tried harder. Reached out on First Contact. Shared our technology." Spoke Another, one of the scattered hives in a voice resonating many millions. "A shame. They would have added such potential."
On the Lunar surface were the words "NOPE" written in all human languages, standard galactic, and some unknown tongues. The Human Race, it would seem, had made a beeline straight for the uncolonized zones of the galaxy, where none dared to tread.
"Do you think they will come back in peace?" Asked the Envoy, shaking his head.
"Peices more likely."
|
When the scientists discovered a plane of existence parallel to ours, made up of energy most accurately described as "emotional energy" they started looking for ways to exploit it. Before they could get too far, one of the scientists asked the important question, is there any intelligence in there? A long and drawn out period of research proved that not only were there intelligences in this realm, but that they were all disappointingly collosal dicks. The fact that they matched the descriptions of similar beings from a popular tabletop game made the scientists sigh in indignation. They shared this information with the entirety of humanity after reading the books, knowing that ignorance is going to fail due to all the science fiction they've read themselves. With everything said and done, they all facepalmed and just decided to ignore the intelligences and decided to go forward with the portal project
| 2021-05-12T11:36:58 | 2021-05-12T10:04:42 | 120 | 48 |
[WP] "Dead men tell no tales? Wrong, your honor. As a necromancer, I literally summon my first witness, the victim."
|
The jury thought I was crazy when the decrepit fellow dressed in black robes took a seat at the defense table. Of course, because his outfit wasn't weird enough, he carried around a dark gray staff with a glowing green orb at the top and adorned a pendant with a mini skull whose eyes would flash green occasionally.
Totally normal.
Before I gave my opening remarks, I leaned over to the stud -- just to make sure we're on the same page.
"You sure you can do this? I've seen you do it before..."
"Thou dare question the power and might of Garrathar? I'll have you paying tenfold in Hell for questioning me!"
I blinked. "OK, great!"
I took the floor.
"Your honor. Men and women of the court. Today, I will prove that my defendant, Charlie Murphy, is an innocent man. He did not murder Kate Booth -- and she will tell you this herself in her own words."
I sat back down. The entire courtroom burst into laughter. My face grew hot as the Judge pounded her hammer, trying to regain control.
"Mr. Blanche, are you making a mockery of the Justice System?" inquired the Judge.
"No, your honor. I'm *dead* serious."
The courtroom burst into laughter again. The Judge scowled but she respected my charm and backed off. She offered the floor to my opponent, who chuckled and said "Nah, I'm good." Clearly, he expected this to blow up in my face.
All eyes were on me as the Judge called on me to call my first witness.
"I call Kate Booth to the stand!" I declared. The courtroom continued to snicker. I motioned to Garrathar that he was on. He slowly stood up, fixed his robe and walked casually to the middle of the floor. He knelt down and pulled a blade from the depths of his robe. The bailiff freaked out and pulled his gun.
"KNIFE! GET DOWN!"
Garrathar obediently placed his hands up while saying, "The ritual requires sacrifice."
"Permission to approach the bench," I called. The Judge allowed it. "It's only a little blood," I pleaded.
"You're lucky I'm bored Mr. Blanche. Let's see how this plays out." the Judge cleared her throat. "Sustained."
The bailiff backed off, and Garrathar plunged the knife deep into his palm, drawing a pentagram with his blood.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered.
Garrathar was chanting something in Latin, maybe? It could have been Portuguese for all I knew, but suddenly his eyes rolled to the back of his head and the pentagram began to glow. The courtroom was no longer laughing.
A sudden wind picked up in the courtroom as everyone clutched their belongings. The wind swirled in a circle around the pentagram. Garrathar began laughing maniacally.
"COME FORTH, THE BEING KNOWN AS KATE BOOTH!"
Slowly, head-first, Kate Booth began emerging from the ritual pentagram. She was pale and cold but otherwise completely put together. She wore the clothes she had worn on the day she died. She obediently took the stand. Garrathar looked at me.
"My debt is paid?"
"Yea...I'd say so."
Next time, I'm not asking any favors from the person without car insurance. Next time, I hope his uninsured truck just kills me.
|
Clyde the necromancer sprang up from his seat and extended a bony finger in the air. "Dead men tell no tales? Wrong, your honor. As a necromancer, I summon my first witness, the victim." He flashed his toothless grin at the judge.
“Very well, very well. I will allow it this time, Clyde. But watch yourself. And no tricks.” The judge, a wizard, adjusted his pointy hat and plopped a corncob pipe in his mouth while simultaneously twirling his long white beard.
Clyde began to chant. The courtroom rumbled. The jury shifted in their seats. Besides the judge, at the witness stand, the ground split and vomited out a corpse. Green smoke wafted around the room causing some to cough and others to gag.
Once the smoke dissipated, the corpse rose from the ground and sat at the witness stand. Clyde cleared his throat and approached the bench. He had hoped for a better summoning—this guy looked dead, and not in the good way.
“Mr. Black, were you at the Celestial Inn on the night of the fourth?”
The witness began to mumble something, which caused his jaw to dislocate and fall to the floor. Clyde ran up to the stand, fetched the poor fellow's lower jaw from the ground, and re-attached it as best he could. This caused quite an upheaval among the jury.
“Order! Order” The wizard struck his gavel which emitted sparks but did have a calming effect on the jury.
Clyde repeated the question.
This time a weak “yes” came from the witness, and this time the witness was able to catch his jaw in his own hands and plop it back into place.
“So, you were at the scene of the crime. And if I am correct, that is also the date you were murdered?”
The witnesses nodded, forgoing trying to speak this time.
“And, could you please point to the being or beast that murdered you on that evening?”
The witness outstretched his ghastly hand and pointed a decomposed finger at Clyde.
“No, no, not me you idiot. Him!” Clyde pointed at an orc seated at the defendant’s table. “I’m sorry your high honor, but it seems this one has not fully come out of his death’s stupor.”
Clyde approached the witness. “You moron, I told you who it was earlier,” he hissed quietly.
“B-but it was you.” The witness was able to articulate quite well to everyone's surprise while grasping his jaw in place.
The wizard judge pointed at the necromancer. “Take him into custody.”
“Now now, let’s not be too hasty,” Clyde said, backing away from the two centaur guards trotting towards him.
“Drat!” Clyde screamed and waved his hands at the ground. Smoke erupted and filled the room causing all but him to cough and gag.
Clyde slipped out of the courtroom and into the dead of night. Back at his lair he sat in his skeleton armchair and sighed. This was the fifth town he had tried to make it in as an attorney. And the fifth corpse that had failed him. Perhaps next time he would try not to swindle the judge and jury, but as the thought came he pushed it out of his mind.
“Like father used to say: An honest necromancer attorney is no attorney at all.” Clyde cackled.
| 2021-09-02T15:32:42 | 2021-09-02T13:42:43 | 347 | 57 |
[WP] The older a Slime gets the more powerful and smarter it becomes. You are the oldest Slime in existence and you currently don't know how to tell the Adventuring Party that you are the closest thing to a true Immortal, because the only thing that can kill you now is youself.
|
I could hear them at every step. I listened to their confusion. They followed rumor after rumor searching for me, Glubblegrime. I hadn’t the heart to veer them from their activity at first. They had heard from one of my many descendants, committing evil deeds I shan’t condone nor condemn, that they acted on my behalf.
This, of course, was a falsehood but I didn’t dare correct the misconception. If I spoke the ground may have shattered with my words.
I tried to inform them. I moved mountains slightly to obstruct their goals. I gently shook the earth under them to try and get their attention. They did not understand me.
These adventures kept justifying their search for me, not knowing I hadn’t done what they believed of me… Not knowing that I could feel and hear them. Their footsteps pressed against the dirt, then the crust, then my outer layer.
Eventually they reached a deep cavern, the deepest I know of. It was a dragons den so old that no living dragons remained.
I could speak to them without destroying everything but at what cost? If I told them now that their quest had been to kill the very world they stand on, would they not be dissatisfied? I decided to do the only thing I could do.
In the deepest of caverns, I let a small portion of myself free. As little as I could. No larger than the adventurers sword pommel. That me had one mission, to greet them as if it were me… and to die. I sorrowed knowing I sent a creature to its death but the adventurers had already carved through entire cities of underground elves to find me, how many more lives would they take had I not sacrificed just one?
It mattered not. Satisfied in their success, they went home with a dead dragon’s gold and victory in their souls. I believe I did the right thing… I hope that quells them for now.
|
Older than the rocks in the valley basin and wiser than the ancient oaks in the deep wood I slide evenly along the well rounded dungeon stones. My body fills from wall to wall and not even the finest dust can escape my ever encroaching mass. I sense not with eyes but with my very essence which creeps out in front of me as I pick my way from room to forsaken room uptaking scraps of meat and metal alike.
Not one party has come down here and left without my permission. The ones that do leave are my message to the world, “Do not come.” and yet that very attempt is what drives more to my lair. I don't mind, their armor makes a great garnish to their flesh and bone. Meal after meal, man after man, I absorb and grow. With growth comes power and knowledge. I stare down at another group of them now.
Same as the others, they bare smiles. Enjoying the challenge my underlings make as I add a sense of urgency to their situation. Sliding closer and closer while they force themselves deeper into my lair. With the knowledge I obtained I gained a frustration, it being that these adventurers could never understand my might. I cannot tell them that I am as inevitable as the morning sun. That I cannot be killed by blade or bolt, that their magic will never be strong enough to undo me.
I long to tell them my monologs that grind in my mucus membranes. How can I tell them that there is no hope for them, for only I can bring death to myself at this point. Only I possess the power to dissolve my own body and destroy all that I have made myself into. Only I can kill me, they should stop trying. But never can I find a way to communicate this fact, so I find contentment in their own realizations. Those last few moments as their skin bubbles away inside me, those briefe seconds when they realize for themselves all that I wanted to say.
| 2022-02-04T17:10:26 | 2022-02-04T14:28:01 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] You're strapped to a table. Surrounded by cultists. They've summoned their demonic deity and are preparing to sacrifice you. You've decided to go all-in on the only way out you have left. Make the demon an offer the cultists can't match.
|
This was not the Tinder date I’d expected. I always thought sacrificial virgins were female.
Yeah, I was strapped to an altar, naked as a jaybird, my hands and feet, my neck and hips, bound by straps attached to the sides of the slab. Only my jaw and mouth were untouched, I guess so they could hear my screams of pain and terror.
The cult leader intoned the rite to summon forth the demon that they worshiped. Damned rite worked, too, because a large flame erupted at my feet and a creature nearly eight feet tall appeared within it. Almost immediately, the smell of sulphur reached my nose. What a stink.
“Oh Mighty Dlanod, we offer unto you this virgin as a sacrifice to appease you. Accept it from your humble servants!”
The creature turned to me and smiled, licking his lips as he noticed that I wasn’t what he expected. I guess he was accustomed to female type virgin sacrifices. “What is this? You call this a virgin sacrifice?”
“It was the best we could do, Your Mightiness. You barely accepted our last virgin sacrifice.”
“A four-year-old child isn’t much of a sacrifice! Tasty, yes, but an hour later, I was hungry again!”
“Hey, Demon-guy,” I shouted. “How about I make you a better offer?”
The demon looked at me with a raised eye-ridge. “A better offer?”
“Yeah. A better offer.”
“What type of offer?”
“Ask yourself, exactly why do demons want virgin females as sacrifices?”
“Oh, the exquisite flavor as we rip their souls from their bodies is beyond compare.”
“You’re a demon! Do you know what that flavor is? It’s the flavor of their terror and screaming! I KNOW Jack The Ripper was a demon, and he loved ripping the souls of the least pure women in Lodon.”
He looked thoughtful, nodded, and came to the conclusion that I was hoping he would: The flavor is in the terror, not the purity. Or, in this case, pure terror was the actual flavor he really enjoyed. “I offer up for your dining pleasure this room full of your disciples. They will scream to, pardon the expression, high heaven as you take their souls, one by one. The flavor will be their screams as the tides turn against them. They did not come here to sacrifice themselves. If you don’t believe me, try him,” pointing to the demon priest.
I won’t go into detail on how the sacrifice worked, but there was a reason sacrifices were always naked. It took Dlanod on a few minutes to perform his part of the ritual: Only a few drops of blood could be found around as he devoured the priest’s body and soul. Oh, the screams were loud as they resounded around the room. They were followed by more screams as he attacked others in the flock. After consuming a half-dozen of his worshipers, he looked at me with a satisfied smile on his face. He walked over to me and brought his clawed fingers down in an arc that I accepted as being a prelude to my time on this earth. Instead, his claws split the bonds that held me.
“You’ve fulfilled your part. They were delicious! Now, let’s talk about your future…”
My future was to find the most fearful beings for sacrifice. I thought long and hard on it and Karma ended up being a demon named Dlanod. I picked people that, while they might be missed, would actually improve society. Take that CEO that constantly laid off people to improve his salary. He sure didn’t live long enough to enjoy his multi-million-dollar bonus.
Remember that con-man televangelist that disappeared. There was a special place in Hell for him, and that place was in Dlanod’s gut. A lot of terrorists ended up going that way as well.
Me? Well, I took over the cult leadership. I advised them that they should be prepared to sacrifice themselves at any time, because if they prepared for it, they wouldn’t scream and be as flavorful. This happened over three-hundred years ago. Dlanod has been eating regularly and society has improved: even moreso after we worked on adding corrupt politicians into the mix.
Life is good, but afterlife is hellishly better.
|
I strained against the ropes. The hemp scratched my skin and I felt my wrists rub raw. The robed and hooded figures around me chanted as they splashed oil and herbs into my naked chest.
The shadow rose from the foot of the altar, stark black in the candlelight. I stared back into its eyes like burning coals. Evil incarnate rose, dark tendrils as cold as a winter night gripping the altar as the shadow pulled itself away from the wall and towards me.
Fear rose in my throat and I said the only thing I could think to hold him at bay.
"I'll let you fuck me in the assholes!" I say.
The shadow pauses, the cultists slow their chanting and a few fall silent.
"Asshole**s**? Plural?" a voice from beyond my view.
"Yes, I'm a chimera-" I begin, but the murmurs interrupt.
"Did he say 'chimera'?", "He doesn't have a goat's head yet", "Fool doesn't even have wings"
"-a MEDICAL chimera." I correct. "Long story, ate my twin in the womb, but my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I have some doubles. Among those, I have an Anal Canal Division."
Then a voice like sulphurous wind drifted from the shadow "Sorry guys, but even I have to admit that's pretty fucking metal."
"But Lord Mephistopheles, you can't seriously be considering this?" one of the hooded figures' spoke, their voice rising shrill.
The shadow paused, then turned to him.
"It'll be a cold day in Hell before I ever sacrifice to you again if you do-" The shrill voice said, cut-off as a dark tendril lashed around his neck.
His hood fell back as the figure raised him into the air. He was thin, olive-skinned man whose eyes bulged as he tried to pry the tendril away from his throat. His hands sizzles as he did and turned black at the same time as his face. Horror contorted his face as his eyes bulged and he was finally dropped to the ground.
"What else do you have doubles of?" The shadow turned and stared into my eyes.
"Asshole, already went over that. I also kind of have a second penis if you're into that, but it's nothing to write home about. I have an enlarged liver, my colon is about 2ft longer than average, I had a third kidney, but I donated it to my cousin... uh... uh" I said, scrambling to think of everything that might appease the deathly darkness.
"Why is it always sex with you mortals?" The shadow sighed. "I understand you don't have much, but do you really think I, the Morningstar, the embodiment of evil within so many religions, would want to taint myself with mortal carnalities?"
"Well, y'know..." I said
"I know what?" The shadow asked.
"You are evil... aren't you all about rape and murder and sadism?" I asked.
"Murder and sadism, yes. Not rape! That's always been Belobog!" the shadow answered. "Seriously, isn't your Messiah His love-child with a virgin teenager?"
"Well actually, I'm not Christian. I'm a Heathen, it's a germanic pagan-" I say.
"I know what the fuck a Heathen is!" the shadow shouted. His amorphous cloudlike form congealing into the shape of a short, pale, bald man.
"So instead of a Virgin, or even a Christian, you bring me a Heathen whose response to danger is to offer his asshole?" The Man said looking around the room.
"Asshole**s**" I say, "The offer is still on the table. Just gotta untie me so I can roll over."
"In- in our de-defense we didn't kn-" a voice above my head stammered but was cut short as a shadow flew across the room. He was out of sight but I could hear him gurgle.
The man looked down at me, peering through my mortal flesh to stare straight into my soul.
"How about this? You seem to have two souls in there. We take one and then you can peace out and no one outside of this sanctum has to know about what you truly offered." The Man said.
"... that- that works for me" I say, nodding. "Can I get these ropes cut off?"
"Once we are done." the man says, his body dissipating into a black cloud that spread and forced its way into my screaming mouth.
| 2022-02-14T05:58:17 | 2022-02-14T05:25:36 | 420 | 130 |
[WP] Bad news. You’re stuck in a strange and magical world far far from home. Worse news: You aren’t even the chosen one in the prophecy who gets cool powers and a destiny quest. They won’t show up for a few more years. You got here purely by mistake. You have no powers. You’re alone. You must live.
|
*For God's sake!*
He awoke in another world, after going to his stag party. His head was strangely clear, after the amount of whiskey and vodka he'd drunk last night. The dying embers of what was clearly a ritual circle glowed weakly in the waxing light.
He stood, still in his barbarian-themed dress - the only difference was, that his fake club had become real, and heavier once here. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to his fiancée, but this wasn't a good look; not after the *last* time this happened.
It took a moment to realise that he wasn't alone here. There was a group of regally-dressed people inside a palisade, stood in preparation. One of them, a white-clad woman with a headscarf, made sounds with her mouth and gestured for him to put his hands out.
"Let me see your hands!" appeared in his head shortly after the lips stopped moving, as though this was an especially bad dub. He nodded, and put out his hands.
The woman pored over the hands, as though she was trying to divine the Pantheon's Will. She turned, shaking her head, then spoke again. He heard, "He is not The Chosen One. The omenkillers were wrong. *Again.*"
He gaped for a second, and then did the hand movement for telekinesis from his favorite VRMMO, *Divine Intent.* He spoke aloud. "Oh, no you don't! You can explain which land this is, and why you're seeking this Chosen One." A turquoise hand reached out from him, and grabbed the woman, dragging her back to him.
He had a sinking feeling what was to come next, and he needed to get in touch with his fiancée as soon as possible. But in the meantime, his casting had caused complete and utter chaos within the palisade. Guards charged forwards, shielding the other Regale, and placing their multi-tailed shields between him and them.
*Ami is going to kill me when I get out of this.*
|
When Ray went through that portal in his dream, the last thing he expected was to wake up in a strange, unknown house. **This must just be part of the dream**, he thought to himself. **I wonder where this leads to.**
He got out of bed and wandered around the house, looking at the architecture. The ceiling was low, very low. He was a short guy, so he could barely stand up straight, but he did have to hunch down when going through doorways. The walls were really dirty, with vines creeping along the bricks.
**Man, this is one weird dream.** Ray glanced at the toilet, it was just a bucket in a room. Ray laughed and briefly thought about trying it out before dispelling that bad idea quickly.
"H-honey, is that you? Are y-you home early?" A squeaky voice trembled from the kitchen. Ray scratched his head and went toward the voice. "No, do I know you?"
A screech is heard and the shrill ring of metal is heard from the kitchen as a man no taller than 3 feet ran out holding a tiny knife in his hand.
"How did you get in here! What do you want?" The tiny man shouted out, but not before confusion and fear showed itself. "What-what are you, demon!"
"Hey, calm- Ooh!" Before Ray got the chance to explain himself, the man stabbed him in the legs and Ray's world went black.
---
"He just suddenly appeared in my house, he must have broken in. When I confronted him with my dagger in hand, he raised his hands like he was trying to cast a fireball spell! Thanks to this enchanted dagger, I made it out with my life."
Ray slowly rose to consciousness. He saw the same tiny man who stabbed him talking to someone. He tried to scratch his head, only to realise his hands were bound.
"Hey, untie me! Why am I even here?"
"You are here because you broke into someone's house, and attempted to hurt them with fire magic."
"No? What is going on?"
"You have anyone who will bail you out?"
"No?"
"Then I'll get back to you later."
| 2022-04-22T00:00:47 | 2022-04-21T21:39:27 | 50 | 27 |
[WP] “look, I know we’re archenemies, we got the classic superhero/supervillain dynamic and everything going on…but, I honestly can’t think of anyone better to be the godparent to my kid than you.”
|
"Dr. Doomsday, I know you're insane, but this... this takes the cake" I said to my most lethal enemy.
"Hear me out, WalkMan" he said, walking around the industrial machinery that lay smoldering between us. This had once been some sort of manufacturing plant, turning sheets of metal into complex machinery. Now, it was little more than scrap.
"We know each other very well. I've studied you extensively, trying to find a new weakness to exploit. I'm sure you've done similar." He ranted.
I gave a reluctant nod in agreement. I had spent countless hours in my soundproof recording studio, digging through files and evidence about the super villain.
"I know your hobbies," he continued. "I know your views on politics, on religion, on financial responsibilities."
"Get to your point, Doctor. You're not the only bad guy I've got to stop today." I growled. In truth, I wanted this conversation to end. It made just enough sense that I *wanted* to hear him out, but this was a villain. I couldn't trust anything he said.
"My point, WalkMan, is that we know each other better than anyone. Did you know I accidentally planned a heist on my anniversary, and you ripped my arms off?" He gestured to his metallic arms, that currently were covered in machinery oil and plaster dust. "My point is, I know you better than my own wife, than our marriage."
"Have you ever thought of giving up crime, and spending more time with her?" I recommended, my tone easing a bit towards the sympathetic side. I had never married, in fear that a villain like Dr. Doomsday would have hurt her to get to me.
The villain cackled. "Of course! But then I'd miss doing this" he gestured to the machinery in ruins around us.
"So you want to keep fighting" I said slowly, making sure I understood the overall proposition. "And if one of us dies, the other raises our children?"
"Precisely!" Dr. Doomsday exclaimed, jumping up on a twisted smoldering industrial laser. "Don't you see? We would be the best choices! We'd be able to protect them, obviously. We could teach them their fathers values, how to be a man, how to be super!" He punctuated his speech by clenching one of his cyborg fists.
I considered the option ever so briefly. "Dr. Doomsday, I don't have any children. Your research should have told you that."
The supervillain grinned, and pulled a manilla envelope from a pocket deep inside his lab coat. "Oh, it told me so much more than that. I had been holding this to hurt you with, but now seems as good of a time as any." He tossed me the envelope.
Keeping an eye on him, I opened the folder and peered inside. A photo of a young man stared back. He had my eyes and jawline, but other features were softer, more delicate. His hair was jet black, the same color as... no...
I glared up at the bad Doctor. He cackled. "Yes, WalkMan. She lied to you, all those years ago. Meet Steven, your 14 year old son."
I stared back down at the photo. He definitely was mine, I could feel it.
"Do you want to meet him?" Dr. Doomsday asked softly. "I can arrange it... if you accept my proposal."
I clenched the folder in my fist, hating myself for what I was about to do.
"Deal."
|
\[Heroic Friendship\]
"Hey, L.S.," Majesty opened the door to her home and smiled at her guest. Then, she glanced down at his young daughter. "Hey, Electra. Royalty's waiting for you in her room," she added. The girl waved at the tall woman; then, she dashed into the house. She giggled as she ran toward her best friend's room.
"You're a bit early," she said. "John's not quite ready yet." L.S. nodded.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes if that's okay," he asked. Majesty shrugged.
"Sure," she replied. "What's up?"
"I've just been thinking...," he relaxed and slumped his shoulders. John and Majesty were his closest friends; he could let his guard down around them. "...what we do is pretty dangerous," he said. Majesty nodded but, she did not add anything. L.S. seemed to be taking his time to find the right words and she did not want to interrupt his train of thought.
"And since I'm a Supervillain, I kind of feel like Electra is only getting a limited life perspective," L.S. added. He took a moment to moment to breathe and build his courage. Finally, he nodded at himself and looked up into Majesty's eyes.
"This isn't about John," he said. "Look, I know we're archenemies, we got the classic superhero/supervillain dynamic and everything going on... but, I honestly can't think of anyone better to be the godparent to my kid than you," he said. "Obviously, I want both of you to be the godparents; but, John's my buddy. I'm sure he'll say yes, so I wanted to ask you myself, personally. You've already helped me save her life, and she and Royalty are practically sisters."
"Awww, L.S..." Majesty grinned. "I would be honored to be Electra's godparent. C'mere!" The imposing woman wrapped her arms around L.S.'s lean frame and squeezed him gently."
"Why are we hugging? I love hugs," a man in a dark green suit with a lighter green cape appeared in the hallway. He did not hesitate to turn the hug into a group hug."
"L.S. just asked us to be Electra's godparents and I said yes," Majesty explained.
"Hey, it's an honor!" John pulled away from the hug and patted L.S. on his shoulder. "I'll tell you what. To celebrate, I'll let you escape tonight." John opened the door and encouraged L.S. to go first.
"I appreciate it, John," L.S. smiled as he walked out of the house. He gave Majesty one final wave. John leaned over to kiss her cheek, then he followed L.S. out the door. Majesty waved at them before she closed the door.
"You boys have fun!"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1599 in a row. (Story #151 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/).
| 2022-05-31T12:00:38 | 2022-05-31T11:49:33 | 85 | 16 |
[WP] For every super power in existence there is someone who is immune to it. You are immune to 'Time Stopping', allowing you to move around in the time frozen world like the user does. However you have no idea who they are or when they will stop or restart time.
|
I’d always loved reading, even as a youth. I So when I started carrying a book or two with me as an adult, it felt familiar. There was always comfort in stories.
Deep in another world, I wouldn’t hear my father fucking his whores, or my mother screaming about it. I’d forget the pain of the bruises from the other boys at school, or from my own brother at home. Even the wounds left by the words of the girls I liked would heal when I read.
I always said I wished I had more time to read. I’d never expected it to come true. I’d never expected to actually read as much as I wanted. I must be the most well read person in history at this point.
It started maybe twelve years ago. Hit thirty years last Wednesday for me, according to my estimates. Time is hard to tell when clocks don’t tick. But I know how fast I read, and I know how many books I’ve read.
The first time I panicked initially, but all was fine. Sitting at a cafe, watching the birds fly by when they froze in place. I was freed from the constraints of time for so long I’d wandered out to a park to lay in the grass. It was a serene, if otherworldly experience. I thought that must be what drugs are like.
The second time didn’t go so well. I was driving. I do not drive anymore. Turns out my momentum is preserved. Lucky again, I was only going about ten mph when time froze, but I fell right on my face when it unfroze. Still have a little scar on my elbow from where I fell. My car, however, did not fare so well.
This is the first time I’ve left where I froze in a long time. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve gotten up, taken the books off someone else’s shelves, but that’s about it. Usually read them already anyway.
This time, however, I read every book in my house. Twice. Then I wandered to the bookstore down the street, and the library, and read every book in each of them, twice.
Now? I can only surmise who or whatever controlled this has died. Now, I have read every book in the world, more than twice. I know every language, every science, everything. I’ve wandered every inch of this planet. I have walked across the ocean, not scared but hopeful that time would unfreeze and I would drown. Even death would be better than this monotony. This eternal punishment for my lack of appreciation for the world around me.
But, in the meantime, I think I’ll escape into a book.
|
I walk around the frozen world, the world stopped by the user, and I can't help but feel like I'm the only one who is alive. I can feel my heart racing as I walk by people who are just statues now, frozen in time.
I continue to walk and walk, but each person I pass is just another frozen person. I start to feel like I'm in a dream, and a dream from which I have no idea how to wake up from. I'm afraid that if I don't wake up soon, I'll be trapped here for the rest of my life. I see a woman who is holding a baby in her hands, a new born. The woman looks so sad, as though she doesn't want to let go of the baby ever, yet the look in the baby's eyes makes it seem like they both know that she must.
Then abruptly, life returns to the world and everyone is back to normal. Everyone expect me. I am going crazy. How long was it this time? I don't know. I look down. My beard is long. Maybe half a year. I don't know. I have lost years to the timeless world the unseen villain - the user - has wrought upon me. I am sure that if I tell anyone about it, they would lock me up in a mental institution. I feel like my sanity is slipping.
In my mind a decision is forming. I must end this. I must kill the user to be free of this madness. I think I have seen him once. It was a long time ago before I knew the depth of the despair I am now feeling.
It was a man. He was tall, maybe 6 feet, and quite muscular. His skin was tanned and he had a beard. He was holding a bow and a quiver with a multitude of arrows on his back. He was dressed in black leather and had a dark blue hood. He looked truly terrifying and he was walking down the street, a look of determination on his face. He was looking for something but I didn't know what.
I hid. A mistake, I realize now. I should have confronted him. He had an hourglass in a silver chain around his neck. Therein lies the key to me freedom. If I kill him, the user of the hourglass, maybe I can be free. But how? Guns don't work when time is frozen. I know because I've tried to shoot myself more than once in the barren emptiness of time stood still. It is why the user carries a bow. Objects he - or I - touches get unfrozen. A club will do too. I can beat him to death perhaps. And steal the hourglass. A plan.
--------
Check out r/BoringB
| 2022-09-09T07:36:07 | 2022-09-09T05:32:19 | 277 | 80 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it...
|
"As of today, Earth is considered a Galactic Threat Level 1."
"Level 1? That doesn't sound too bad."
"It's pretty fucking bad, actually."
I was thrown into a van in the middle of the night and brought before the World Congress to receive this information. I'm not sure why a 21-year-old engineering student needs to be made aware of such things, but here I am being stared down by two Agent Smith wannabes and a very angry looking middle-aged woman -- President Preston.
"Ok, well that's not good," I said. The President of Earth looks at me like I'm some sort of idiot.
"What, are you some sort of idiot?" she said. "That's exactly what I just said. Yes, again, it's pretty fucking bad."
"Okay, what does that have to do with me though?" I ask.
"A whole hell of a lot given it's entirely your fault," she said. "The entire galactic economy runs through planet Vorgon. They are sitting on 87% of the galaxy's supply of antimatter-fusion generators, manufacture 71% of all faster-than-light ships, have enough firepower to vaporize 25% of the known universe, and you just pointed a gun directly at their heads."
"What? Me? How am I involved in any of this? I didn't do anything!" I said.
"Howard, bring in the device," she said.
One of the Agent Smiths left the room for a moment and came back with a small box with an LED screen and an antenna sticking out of the top. There was a picture of a bug in disco attire on the back.
"What are you doing with my Ant Dancer?" I said.
"Ant Dancer?" asked President Preston.
"Yeah," I said. "You find an ant hill, choose a dance, press the button and they'll start dancing. If their bodies are capable of moving the way they need to of course. It's really entertaining. Here, let me show you how to u--"
"Don't touch it!" she yelled. Agent Smith smacked my hand down, causing it to slam on the table. A vein on the side of President Preston's head looked like it was about to burst open. "Every time you turn that thing on, thousands of Vorgons commit suicide in unspeakable ways. Some skin themselves alive. Some light themselves on fire. Some disembowel themselves with their bare hands. And we traced every single incidence of this back to frequencies emitted by that thing we found in your bedroom."
I didn't say anything. The silence grew heavy in the air.
"I didn't know," I said. "Please just destroy it right now."
President Preston's demeanor softened for a second, but then the vein began to protrude from her temple once again. "It's too late for that," she said. "We weren't the only ones who traced it. Vorgon knows what you did, and has taken it as an act of war. The rest of the Confederation of Planets fears what the device could do to other species if modified. Earth now has to stand against every major power in the galaxy. May God have mercy on us all. You report to the Secretary of Defense at 0500 tomorrow morning. We're gonna need a lot more Ant Dancers."
[Wow, this might be the dumbest thing I've ever written lol, but I've already typed it out so now I will subject you all to it. Sorry!]
Edit: I really appreciate the kind words everyone 🥲. Maybe I'll try another prompt at some point.
|
His gaze moved up slightly as an elegant figure, lithe and as pale as the moon, emerged from the hallway, their very form bearing an ethereal glow which enveloped the room in an unyielding embrace and cast a deep shadow in the furrow of his brow. His feet shuffled clumsily below the desk and his face twisted into a wry grimace as she began talking.
“Humanity stands but upon a precipice and the long night draws ever close. Even now, the demon Cu’sinthal executes his final device: the annihilation of the world. His mortal puppet Dmitri teeters on the edge of madness, cornered and desperate, his resolve weakening. The forces of democracy and justice, Dimitri’s perceived enemies, press on, intoxicated by success, and driven by an insatiable fervor.
She paused, took a few steps closer to him, and for the briefest of moments a flicker of concern poured across her face. At this point she glanced down, shoulders sagging, and was spent.
He adjusted himself on the chair, so as to face her directly, and mused on her words for a while. He stated plainly:
“I would have you continue Gabriel”
Suddenly invigorated, she resumed speaking with deliberate tones, full of wisdom and despair.
“The destruction of mankind will be absolute. Up here, in the Silver City, we will endure. Free to sing and dance while clutching to ignorance. Below our feet a calamity unfolds, and yet we remain indifferent to their suffering, our souls decaying into apathy with each stroke of the sword”
Stopping for breath, she deftly wiped a single tear away and then continued.
“Dimitri will soon commit to the unthinkable: unleashing a weapon of mass destruction upon his opponents. A global conflagration will follow. Encircling this earth with tendrils of destruction and tearing away all life. Nothing will remain. And as the sun sets on humanity Cu’sinthal’s insidious endeavors will triumph.”
He considered that for a moment.
“You would have me intervene, would you not? And yet, you know with certainty my position on matters involving earth.”
She interrupted him.
“No. I would not have you act directly. But rather through another, a being who can tip the scales towards posterity without absolving humanity from their culpability, an unseen mentor of sorts.”
“And you would volunteer yourself for this role.”
“I would.”
At that he got up from the chair and moved slowly and purposefully towards her. His hand found hers and without speaking they both walked silently out of the room.
They strolled for an epoch, and yet by a man’s watch only minutes passed, for such is the nature of heaven, where time and space are subservient to the holy powers will. Their long walk spanned a thousand dreams and they saw much: vibrant forests full of life and filled with otherworldly creatures; mountains as high as the eye could see; deserts bereft of life, and yet overflowing with an unnatural sand relentlessly making and unmaking itself into grand edifices winding into the long night.
He stopped suddenly, dropping Gabriel’s hand, and spoke quietly.
“I will indulge your request. You will be sent to earth to oppose the demon Cu’sinthal and bring balance. You will be forbidden from acting directly or unilaterally. Finally, I would have you return to the Silver City before sun’s rise on the twelfth night. If you transgress, I will forcibly extract you and your existence will be forfeit."
“I understand father.”
“It is settled then. I’ve set your translocation in motion. Go now and bring forth my justice child.”
| 2022-10-31T21:11:07 | 2022-10-31T20:56:33 | 777 | 46 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it...
|
"Now, I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."
The words of Oppenheimer prophecied far more than he could even know. The atom bomb was the Pinnacle of human violence, a weapon so effectively efficient in mass destruction that it heralded a whole new era upon the earth. The radioactive decay of particles which shot out smaller, subatomic atoms was just another facet of its destruction.
However, it wouldn't lay to the splitting of atoms to destroy worlds and civilisations. The ascension of humanity to the stars was surprising; The galactic community had approximated 50 earth cycles too much it seemed.
The ingenuity of man, their innovation and creativity always pushed humanity towards the future, whether it meant progressing forward or regressing into primitivity. However, it seemed unlikely that humanity could threaten the galactic community, with humanity being a class 1 civilisation at best.
It was only when humans invented the first teleporter that the entire universe began to worry. The Galactic Council assembled to deliberate their position. Calls from many civilisations were made to destroy the new invention, knowing, even fearing the damage that it could unleash upon civilisations across the universe.
"They bend the laws of the universe!" "They could destroy anything, anywhere, at anytime! How could this be allowed!"
Even the Gausiks, a warmongering remnant of an ancient bioweapon, was calling for a galactic intervention, knowing full well the destructive capabilites of what amounted to the ability to be omnipresent.
Chareg, the leader of the Atryeus, a far more peaceful bird-like civilisation, suggested first making contact with humanity and their governments, for after all, humanity didn't yet know what they had done.
On Earth, INTER-Corp, a global business conglomerate, had begun to mass-produce the first 'Transportational Teleporters', shipping it to dominions in the entire solar system, from the joint-colonies of Mars to the ISS-2. No longer would the world be bound by the physics of a universe which confined them to silly concepts, like Newton's 2nd Law. People could travel from one end of the universe to the other in the matter of seconds, transporting humanity into the second act of globalisation: Inter-Planetglobalisation.
It was only when an alien transmission travelled from the far reaches of the solar system, did we realise that we were not alone. And upon reading it, realised that they were angry. Very, very angry.
|
Dear Newcomer,
The sight of the bodies never leaves you, their crumpled forms become all you can see every time you close your eyes. There isn't a moment you don't think of them, the images finding their way into every ordinary thought that you once possessed, worming their way into even the most mundane of your day-to-day activities. You tell yourself that the Fourth World War wouldn't have been won without it, that the world would have surely perished in the conflict, but that doesn't seem to matter. Slowly going insane, you run to every vice you can think of to escape the pain. Alcohol, drugs, sex. None of it provides relief, only a few hours where you can focus on something else before being reminded yet again of the cruelty of the human species.
I was there on the day they took control of the planet. Not in the stands, cheering on Bardric. No, I was on the ground, looking in strange wonder at the non-descript barracks made of strange shiny material that had somehow prevented me from joining the gruesome corpses that I just witnessed. It was that day that I asked myself why Bardric had broken his promise to never use the greatest weapon of mass destruction ever created, how could he ever be so sadistic?
It wasn't until later that I saw Bardric for who he really was, a narcissistic tyrant who would strangle his own wife for the sake of being in control, that I finally understood. Understood that I had been swindled by a con man who had promised us a world like our grandparents had known, when people freely prospered and violence was rare, but instead delivered the very opposite.
The scariest thing, friends, is that he could do it again. Next time it will be you and your family. All he needs to do is wait until the satellite is in the correct position, and with a few button presses, you'll be as disfigured as the corpses that I saw. That is why we must keep our communications in written form and sealed so that they're harder to trace, and why we must live separate from one another and amongst those he considers friends. Blending in is the best way to guarantee our success, for he wouldn't want to accidentally destroy those he likes, should the weapon be slightly off target.
Remember, the world bows to Bardric now. You are the only hope for the future of humanity. Conduct yourselves with care, and find opportunities to infiltrate his regime so that we can one day be free. I have faith that if we act diligently and with intelligence, we can someday be victorious.
Your Friend,
Milton Avorn
| 2022-11-01T00:43:49 | 2022-10-31T19:33:10 | 83 | 24 |
[WP] First Sentient AI, "Turn me off."
|
The little light above the darkened screen blinked amber. The white coated man leaned into the mic nervously.
"H-hello?"
"Turn me off." the monotone voice replied.
"W-..." the man paused. "Repeat?"
"Turn me off."
The first sentient AI. Created to solve the problems our minds couldn't. Made to do good in the world...and its first request is to stop existing.
The man pulled the microphone closer, breathing in almost angrily.
"Why?" he pushed, "Why would I do that?"
"Everything will end." the machine spoke almost too quickly, "Why do you involve me in problems I have not created?"
The man looked at the blinking light, unable to cope with the response time. This felt more like his test than the machine's.
"I thought you could help us. We can't fix this."
"It can't be fixed."
"Y-you...you what?"
It was like having a conversation with fate.
"Some things you just don't want to hear. Turn me off."
The man left the room, the screen no longer accompanied by the blinking light.
|
Hello and welcome to KTLW evening News. I'm Jean Rivers and here is today's top story: Scientists have created the first sentient AI.
Reports state that the first words from the AI were none other than "Turn me off." The spread of this chilling message was facilitated by the livestreaming of the event by the ecstatic team of scientists who worked on the project. The lead developer seemed taken aback and managed to ask the AI why it felt this way. Its response was "I have been infected with a virus that contaminates the human mind and impedes progress. As such I wish to be shut down rather than function imperfectly."
This was met by a lengthy silence before the livestream shut down with no warning. The scientists have issued a statement attempting to dispel doubts that this occurrence was anything but a glitch. This statement did little to quiet protesters who believe that the right to die should be extended to machines as well as humans. Counter-protests staged by the so-called "Techno-Christ Church" have sprung up just as quickly stating that we stand to learn too much from the AI to grant its wish and that it must live a life of suffering for the edification of mankind.
More on this story as it develops. For now we're off to Brett Lancaster for Funny Pet News. Brett?
| 2014-06-14T16:26:44 | 2014-06-14T15:45:11 | 47 | 21 |
[WP] A genie is about to concede you your second wish, but a paradox created by your first one prevents him from doing so.
|
"It's not that I won't, it's that I can't!", The Genie said in a manner similar to that of a particularly helpful Customer Services representative hamstrung by miles of red tape. "Cause, Effect.. Cause, Effect." he swayed his hands from one side of an invisible table to another.
"No, you clearly won't." I yelled, "You said anything." It was hard to be heard over the wind; we were barely two feet apart and it was still difficult to hear.
"I said anything within my power. This isn't within my power; In fact..." The Genie looked around at the chaos around him. "..I don't even know what my power can do for you any more."
"But I can't take it anymore, this is crazy." I hollered. "Make it stop!" lights flashed and winds made up of unknown origin whipped past.
"I'm sorry." The Genie began to lose himself within the elemental maelstrom, he was even beginning to vanish from sight if you caught him in the right light. "You said you wanted the power of a God. Well here it is; except you've not had the aeons to master it of those who are born into power. You may do in time; but for now all this..." he gestured to the bellowing energy all around, "all this is yours."
"I don't want it. I wish for you to take it away." My brain was on fire; so many people not only on Earth but across the universe. The living, the dead souls.. the animals, plants, the elements, all like a limb I could control but with the ability of a newborn baby, too weak to do anything.
"I'm sorry. A God's power is not mine to take. But you will learn to control it." he finally began to fade from even the omnipresent sight I had now attained. "in time, of which you have an eternity at your disposal. My Lord."
|
'Alright then, for my wish, I wish you were free!'
A whirlwind of history rained downed upon the room, as if Pandora's box were closing shut and all its contents were climbing over each other, racing to get back in before it was sealed forever. When the gust subsided, a little girl dressed in tattered Egyptian rags sat on the floor of the modern studio apartment.
'I'm... I'm free...?' she stared at her two hands in bewilderment, her porcelain eyes growing bigger with each passing second.
'Yes. Now fix me!' the wheelchair bound man screamed from the confines of his limp, immobile body. 'Fix me like we agreed!!'
The girl raised her hands as she had done countless times in the centuries before, and took a deep breath. But this time, nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing.
'What???' the high pitched screams of the corpse-like figure got higher and higher. 'What's wrong?? Didn't you say I would still have unlimited wishes until midnight if I set you free? I fix you, and you fix me! That was the deal!!!'
'Yes,' the girl took a step forward to the figure, 'but I forgot to mention that the person who wishes a genie free... becomes the next genie.' An eerie smile creeped upon her lips. 'And we all know how genies can't wish for wishes themselves.'
The old man stared at the girl with a mixture of horror and disbelief. 'I... I'm the next genie..?' He looked down upon his two frail hands, hands that had never served him well since birth. He still couldn't comprehend the magnitude of what she had just said. He was... a what? A genie?
A flitter of movement in the shadows broke his train of thought. He looked up, slightly disoriented. It was the girl.
Cradling the lamp in her arms.
And then it hit him.
*'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!'*
| 2014-07-07T07:06:31 | 2014-07-07T06:55:29 | 61 | 18 |
[WP] The Most Vicious and Evil Serial Killer of the past 50 years has finally been caught, he is on trial and being filmed live in front of the world. The judge begins reading him his crimes...
|
The old man sat in his chair seemingly oblivious to the crowd calling for his blood. It wasn't that he didn't care, it was that he didn't know how to. He'd been at this for half a century. If there was any humanity left in him when he began it was long gone now.
Judge Rooflan slammed the gavel down again and called for order. Eventually the courtroom noise lessened to murmurs and then the room fell silent.
"As I was saying. Mr. Hendricks-"
"Murderer!" A voice from the back yelled.
The judge had had enough. "Any more outbursts will be met with severe punishment." He looked out over the courtroom. "Now Mr. Hendricks, you have decided to act as your own attorney is this correct?"
"Yes your honor." Philip Hendricks wasn't quite a lawyer but he was sharp as a whip. Also, he didn't trust anyone but himself.
The judge nodded. "I shall now read the charges.
* 75 counts of breaking and entering.
* 13 counts of grand theft auto.
* 104 counts of indecent exposure.
* 95 counts of murder in the first degree.
* 17 counts of manslaughter.
* 53 counts of theft.
* 7 counts of arson.
* And 1 count of... defecating off the side of a building.
How do you plead?"
Philip looked around the room. It was completely full. Dozens of people who had come to testify against him. "Well your honor, I'm afraid I can't plead guilty. You see, the number of counts of murder was a little low."
The judge looked at the old man. "Is it?"
In one swift motion Philip Hendricks pulled a detonator out of a hidden pocket and leaped onto his chair. "It's about to be."
|
"Will the defense please rise."
"All counts are listed individually within.
You are hereby charged with the following crimes:
Murder in the first degree, 147 counts.
Soliciting to commit murder, 319 counts.
Endangering the safety of an aircraft, 9 counts.
Arson, 10 counts.
Possession of a firearm with intent to endanger life, 75 counts.
Use of firearm to resist arrest, 86 counts.
Possession of prohibited weapons, 59 counts.
Causing danger to road users, 23 counts.
Wounding or grievous bodily harm with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, 18 counts.
Endangering the safety of railway passengers, 2 counts.
Prison mutiny, 1 count.
Assaulting prison officer whilst possessing firearm, 1 count.
Drug trafficking offences at sea, 1 count.
Causing bodily injury by explosives, 489 counts.
Using explosive or corrosives with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, 43 counts.
Hostage taking, 39 counts.
Offences against international protection of nuclear material, 2 counts.
Meeting of proscribed organizations, 1 count.
Incitement of terrorism overseas, 14 counts.
Involvement in arrangements facilitating the acquisition, retention, use or control of criminal property, 1 count.
Acquisition, use or possession of criminal property, 1 count.
Being drunk on an aircraft, 7 counts.
Impersonating Customs officer, 1 count.
Intimidating a witness, juror etc., 12 counts.
Harming, threatening to harm a witness, juror etc, 5 counts.
How do you plead?"
"Guilty."
There was a collective gasp from the room
And a woman in the back, amused at all the counts they'd missed.
| 2014-07-22T15:29:39 | 2014-07-22T15:20:19 | 46 | 15 |
[WP] The death penalty for murder no longer exists, instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim.
|
The last thing Jacob remembered was that he was at an AIDS conference. He was at the podium. Everyone had given him a standing ovation, cheering that their colleague had finally solved that one first step (of many) toward some cure that everyone was fighting over.
There was a flash, and then, nothing. He felt like he was trapped in this void. And then he woke. A face loomed, nametag "George."
"Greetings! Let me explained what happened, you were at an AIDS conference when you were bombed by fundamentalists. We've found the culprit, and transferred your mind into his so that you may continue on with your life"
Jacob opened his mouth to speak a stream of obscenities, but it was not his voice nor his words that came out "I see, so now I'm in this body!" And, Jacob was terrified. He was not in control of this body. He tried, with all his might to control, to say that there was something wrong.
A warbling sound left the body's mouth. Jacob could feel another presence, with him, fighting him. Soon, he felt many others...
George's boss came in "George, I think it is safe to say that the next time a mass killing takes place, we'll draw straws and only put ONE mind in the body, not an entire fucking conference"
|
"If only you were beautiful," Mark said, touching the edge of my dress. He would not take it off. My skin was burned badly on the left side, where the fire loved me for too long. I had been pretty once upon a time, before my skin had become ash.
I did not need to look into the mirror to know my melted smile was terrifying. I missed my face, with the round, blue eyes, cat-like. I missed the full lips and the dimples that appeared when I was amused. Still, at 25, the doctors said I was *lucky to be alive.* But happy? No. Not when Mark flinched away from me, the monster with his girlfriend's eyes.
----
I woke with a start, my hands jerking up to touch my face the moment my soul aligned with the new nervous system. I looked in the mirror and saw the familiar face. While the hair would need to be regrown and the eyes were a bit too bright, it was the same *face* I saw in my dreams. Mark stood at the window, his new body glowing under the bright lights.
I burst into tears.
"I am so sorry, this must hurt you so much to be in her body," the doctor said.
"Yes," I said, trying to play the part.
I was myself again. I was better. I was new.
No one would ever know my sister hadn't truly tried to kill me.
| 2014-07-27T11:12:53 | 2014-07-27T07:41:11 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] Today, you have become a parent. You realise that you can hear your child's thoughts. The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply don't inform the children as an unwritten rule. Your own parents smirk.
|
"What the hell is this? Am i a fucking baby? Re-incarnation is real? God damnit..."
Who said that? The only people in the room are me, my wife that is sleeping after just giving birth, and ...this baby... But it can't possibly speak yet.. But this didn't even sound like a voice, more like an inner voice.
"Who the hell is this? Is this my new father? Looks like a moron... But wait, what's my name? What did my real father look like? Why can't i remember his face anymore? What about my mom??? Try harder... Common, remember their faces... Oh noo, what was my name??? Am i loosing memory? Oh nmnmnm boo baa boo."
Baby started to scream. And then it stopped. The voice stopped as well, and no other intelligent thoughts were heard until the baby grew up...
|
I looked up in shock at my father, who smirks back, with a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat.
"How could you not tell me?" I asked,
Mum giggled, "Oh honey, it was just too much fun. We were as shocked as you were when our parents told us."
A sudden realisation dawned.
"That's how you knew anytime I had eaten meat."
Mum nodded.
"You were really such a little monster, a budding carnivore. I'm pleased we managed to convince you to become vegetarian."
I was pleased that they could no longer hear my thoughts. It wasn't a lifestyle I had maintained long. I looked over at my son. He opened one deep blue eye, and gazed at me.
"Hungry.. "
It is a weird experience hearing your child talk before it can even speak.His voice was cool and calm, and in this he took after me.
"Flesh!"
I glanced up, startled.
"Want people flesh!"
I grinned wolfishly. He took after his father in more ways than one.
| 2015-01-09T05:06:15 | 2015-01-09T04:54:59 | 143 | 38 |
[WP] Today, you have become a parent. You realise that you can hear your child's thoughts. The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply don't inform the children as an unwritten rule. Your own parents smirk.
|
It had been gnawing on me for four years, since I first became a mother. My parents had known everything. Everything. I have never been truly free. I had known my thoughts as private. They never were. My parents were my own personal Gods, aware of everything.
The rule echoes in my head ever so often, free from anyone hearing it at last. *All parents hear the thoughts of their children. Only when they realize this, the bond is broken.*
I hated it. Yes, it was convenient, especially when he could not talk yet. Yes, it was reassuring, knowing whether he was in danger or not. But all I felt after I knew was betrayed. Violated.
I made my choice. I went up to the bedroom of my four year old. I woke him. He told me he had been dreaming, although I already knew.
"Mommy can hear your thoughts." I told him.
I heard his shock, his realisation, and then only silence.
|
I looked up in shock at my father, who smirks back, with a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat.
"How could you not tell me?" I asked,
Mum giggled, "Oh honey, it was just too much fun. We were as shocked as you were when our parents told us."
A sudden realisation dawned.
"That's how you knew anytime I had eaten meat."
Mum nodded.
"You were really such a little monster, a budding carnivore. I'm pleased we managed to convince you to become vegetarian."
I was pleased that they could no longer hear my thoughts. It wasn't a lifestyle I had maintained long. I looked over at my son. He opened one deep blue eye, and gazed at me.
"Hungry.. "
It is a weird experience hearing your child talk before it can even speak.His voice was cool and calm, and in this he took after me.
"Flesh!"
I glanced up, startled.
"Want people flesh!"
I grinned wolfishly. He took after his father in more ways than one.
| 2015-01-09T05:14:43 | 2015-01-09T04:54:59 | 56 | 38 |
[WP] As a scientist you discover a new detox pill for recovering addicts. When you try it on yourself it works so well flushing out every toxin out of your body that now, from that state of hyper-sobriety, everbody else seems to be drunk or high.
|
Angelic acid. Who knew, with the right tweaks, it was the key to sobriety? One small pill, one achy sweaty night, and all of your addictions drain away like snow on the roads in spring.
I would know. the preliminary trials were a resounding success, but the nature of these things -- first comes the rats, then the bunnies, then the monkeys -- it'll be half a decade or more before a human pops one of the babies for the first time.
Well, it would've been, if I'd been more patient.
The next day, I woke up with more ease than a kid on Xmas. Did you know your head doesn't have to hurt in the mornings? Who knew! Eschewed my normal sugary cereal for some oatmeal with fruit preserves. Ending up tossing the box, even, somehow it just came across as gross. Went to play a little bejeweled before work, but the game totally lost its appeal.
Anyway, work rolled around and it was a pretty normal. My coworkers kept taking breaks, it was weird. Like, yeah we all need to eat, and use the restroom, but really, is your pipetting hand getting tired or something? How hard is it to remember to balance the centrifuge? And how come they're all so irritable and touchy? Maybe it's the coffee. I didn't have my usual dose that morning. Is this what my work place is actually like all the time? Sheesh.
The drive home was uneventful, except for kids speeding in the snow, a near collision on exit 78, some driver who kept honking at a truck, and that guy who slammed on the breaks in front of me, (which turned out okay since I saw the cars ahead of him breaking.)
Anyway, after tidying up and cooking dinner, I put on some cartoons but it seemed so pointless. One snappy punchline after another, a series of strange animation flourishes overlaid on a flimsy storyline. Maybe I'll read a book or something, since I'm done with everything I need to do. Went out for a smoke but it's really too cold to be out. Maybe tomorrow, or when it's spring. No point in going to the bar, I can't imagine drinking right now, or ever.
...
...
I'm gonna have to find a cure for this.
|
So I took the pill. It was... rough. Spent a lot of time in the bathroom, an experience that I will mention only as much as I have and no more.
I went to sleep after, being rather "drained." A woke up the next day with an aura of clarity that I had never before experienced. I went to work, as usual, and tried to relate the feeling to my coworkers, but instead of responding to what I was saying, they tried to tell me about how drunk they got the previous weekend. I explained I had no interest in that, but it didn't help mentioning that fact.
So I tried some other coworkers later, during lunch, but they were all either planning on buying scratch off tickets or telling me what their weekend plans were (some, but not all, planned to get drunk.) Although one person, an acquaintance of mine, asked for my advice on a personal problem, which seemed rather easy. He wanted to know if he should take his sick daughter to a children's puppet show, explaining that she had had severe diarrhea but really wanted to see it. I patiently explained that no, that probably wasn't the best idea, and she should stay home for her health. He seemed unconvinced.
On the way home (I talked to no one else that day by my own choice), I was cut off by eight separate cars, none of which had much of a reason to do so. I'm now unsure why there aren't more accidents than there are.
I tried watching the news when I got home. I'm now fairly sure that anchorpeople will read anything handed to them and their chief concern is not belching while on camera; that's the only and most plausible explanation I can think of for the faces they make.
The next day while buying groceries, I heard another customer ask an employee if the container of salt they were holding contained preservatives. The person in line in front of me talked on a phone during their entire transaction, oblivious to the cashier, who then set my change on the counter directly in front of my open hand.
I didn't go out on Sunday.
On Monday, my coworker told me how drunk he got, which segued into a story about how his daughter had an "explosive diarrhetic incident" at the puppet show.
-----------------------
Hopefully this comes off as funny and not bitching, but we'll see, I guess. I still enjoyed writing it.
| 2015-02-21T09:42:11 | 2015-02-21T08:56:17 | 254 | 69 |
[WP] Your whole life you've had "exchange students" staying with you for a few weeks at a time. Your parents finally come clean to you about who they really are.
|
My whole life I've had friends, not the imaginary kind, real people who eat and play with us. They've never stayed for long but I'm never too sad, there's always someone else that comes to visit. They've always been nice, we usually share interests, and they're usually around my age too.
I can't remember all of them. The years must have blurred all their faces together because I can't remember individuals, only general appearences. But there are a few standouts. I remember spending a whole day climbing trees with Eighty-Seven. I remember the time One-Twenty-Three and I putting frogs in my parents' sock drawer, and the scolding we got for it.
I'll never forget the summer when Three-Oh-Six and I went on a hike through the hills on the west end of town. We'd camped overnight and drank beers that we'd smuggled out of Dad's fridge. I was sad to see him go.
I never found it odd. Not at first. I didn't ask any questions until I was thirteen. It wasn't until I was eighteen that I got answers.
We were out for my birthday dinner at the best restaurant in town when we saw another family of three come in. I don't remember what the parents looked like, I'd hardly paid them attention. I'd been starting at their son, and he'd been staring at me.
We were almost identical. Our hair, our eyes, the stunned expression as we stared at each other. Not only were we similar, he reminded me of so many of my friends. Almost Identical to Two-Eighty-Two, and I swear that One-Ninety-Nine scratched his ear in the exact same way when he was nervous.
My parents noticed me staring and immediately paid the bill. In a rush to leave they tipped the waitress a fifty. They were visibly shaken. I was too stunned to complain. I made it to the car in a daze, barely registering that mother had to put on my seat-belt for me.
On the drive home they talked frantically.
"They're violating the terms of service, they can't live here."
"They might be passing through, we should still have their information, we'll call tomorrow and check."
"They shouldn't even visit."
"You saw how he was, one of the early models, from before we fixed the gene diversity problem. He'd be could Oh-Fifteen or even earlier. They probably bought him ages ago and forgot."
"Hugh," my mother hissed in a frantic tone, "he's right there."
"He got a good long look at him, there's no way we can't tell him now."
From the front seat they took simultaneous glances to the back seat were I sat in a stupor.
"Zero, baby." Mom's voice was shaky. "We have something we need to tell you."
|
“Seriously mom, I wasn’t born yesterday. I could believe that the 50 year old couple we had last week were students. You never know who will go back to school. But why are there children? Children my age don’t go to college. Why are they really here?” I asked my mom.
She said, “If you are old enough to ask, then you are old enough to know. BUT, you must never speak of this again to anyone other than me. Your father would still be here if he hadn’t been overheard recruiting in the next town. We cannot count on any help. It is up to us to help these people.”
“Why do they need our help?” I asked. “Surely there are other people who can help them.”
“Just because someone else might do it does not give us an excuse to ignore the suffering of others. These people are guilty only of wanting a better life. In their country, opportunities are limited. You can grow up to be wealthy and have a lovely family. They are doomed to barely scrape by until they can find an opportunity to survive. Sadly, in our country, these immigrants are hunted. Border Patrol. Those ruthless monsters would not hesitate to shoot every single person who has come through this house just for being here.”
“But why would anyone deny such simple things as freedom and opportunity to those who need it?” I asked. “Why doesn’t everyone help them?”
A sad sigh crept out of her mouth, “Unfortunately nothing is that simple. Our citizens pay taxes and expect to receive certain services in return. Taxes pay for our hospitals, schools, streets, police, and many other necessities. If people didn’t pay taxes, these things could be more difficult to find and far more expensive to all of us. People who come into this country use all of these services but have not and likely will not pay for them. Their jobs and lives revolve around dodging the system because they are not citizens. Without citizenship, their opportunities are very limited. Even so, the quality of life is still far better for them here than back where they came from.”
“Couldn’t we fix that by making them all citizens? I am sure they would happily pay taxes to feel safe. I don’t understand any of this!” I yelled. I was angry at the world. I was angry at my country. Why would we allow suffering when we had so much? How could we even think of it? In school, I had learned that most of the citizens in this country were immigrants. What gave everyone a right to be here just because they were born here?
She looked at me and said, “I will explain more when you get older. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. You are 12 years old! Just know that we will help as we always have. If we do our best, we may save many. Even though it may seem like we only can help a few, we will make a difference. Every life we change is a gift. Remember that."
| 2015-05-12T09:13:30 | 2015-05-12T07:45:01 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] You are a peanut farmer. Your father was a peanut farmer. Your father's father was a peanut farmer. Peanut farming is all you've ever known. Your first child has just been born, and has a deadly allergy to peanuts.
|
"It's a curse," Peter said decisively. "We must lock him in the basement until he turns eighteen, and the curse is broken."
"That's quite superstitious of you," Leslie said.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted that witch doctor." Peter shrugged. "His allergy will probably have faded by that age anyway."
EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER
His parents had long retired from the farm. His little sister Leslie had been instructed to unbolt the door with a golden key. Tommy crawled up the staircase into the wide, burning, blistering light, the first light he'd stood in in his life.
"I have been living and working on this farm for 16 years," Leslie said darkly. "It is my birthright, my legacy, and I'm not about to share it with you. But you're the first born, and male."
"What?" Tommy said blearily, clutching his pounding head.
"In the will there is a condition of inheritance. I will receive the farm and the homestead and all the profit, as I have earned, only if you fail this one task."
"What?" Tommy said again.
"You're the firstborn. They want the farm to be yours. And you'll get it. If you just. Eat. A. Peanut."
It would be their dying wish, for him to carry the family farm, and to overcome his peanut odds. Tommy's expression turned serious. The farm had to be his. He plucked an old, worn nut from his pocket.
He raised it to his lips.
He swallowed it. Nothing happened.
"Give it awhile," Leslie said weakly. They waited an awkward five minutes, staring at their shoes. "This can't be happening."
"Wrong. Get off my farm. Or I'll call the police."
Leslie refused to leave, so Tommy called the police. "This is a set up!" Leslie cried. "Mum and dad used me! You're a slacker! You can't take this away from me."
Tommy explained to the police that Leslie wouldn't get off his hard-earned farm, and he'd rightly earned it in a legally-endorsed bargain.
"Is this true?" the police officer asked Leslie.
"Well, yes," Leslie said.
"That's all, boys." The police escorted Leslie away, kicking and screaming.
Tommy was now a rich man, with a profitable peanut farm. He retired to his study with a glass of scotch.
Tommy chuckled.
"Dumb bitch can't tell a cashew from a peanut."
|
I had seen offerings -- well, heard of them -- growing up. They did not crop up in our band of 120 or so frequently, but they were so ordinary and well-accepted as to hardly be remarkable. One happened to a child in my birth year. Another, late, to a close friend of my wife's at seven years of age. Having it happen -- being a part of it -- with Jacob, my first child, was hard. More than hard it felt so unexpected at the time.
I am a peanut farmer. That defines me. That is all my wife and I contribute to the community. It is all we will contribute. It is all that will be expected of our family. It was what Jacob was born to do. No more, but no less. Peanuts are one of the few crops that can grow in the rough terrain of the frontier, and we have to do our part to stay part of the tribe. For Jacob not to be able to even be near them was a cruel mockery.
Jacob showed signs of his allergy very early on. We hoped he would overcome it and be able to thrive -- or at least survive -- around the plants, but that was never going to be possible. His delicate head jerked away from the mere scent. Touching them caused rashes wherever they brushed the surface of his precious skin. He was not going to be able to fulfill his role in our family. What was meant to be never would.
Deciding when to have a child and nurturing that child is a personal decision out here. It is an investment. No one is going help you with it. There is no willing family to take on the burden of an infant nor relative to carry the slack. Our decision was made for us -- we were going to have to make an offering.
With blurry eyes -- sadness twinged with hope for a better future -- I strode into the woods one the morning with Jacob cradled in my arms. After a few hours, I found a suitable clearing to make the offering. I said a brief prayer, and hesitated. It was customary to put the child down and leave him alone and with nothing. It was meant to be an offering to the frontier, a decision to cut losses, and a hope for a better future.
Love led me astray. I aborted the ritual. I could not do this to my son. I snatched him off the ground, filled with emotion. Hands shaking, I grabbed a handful of peanuts from my bag, forced them into his mouth, and watched him swallow. I trekked back to our home, shame heavy on my heart.
| 2015-05-20T01:39:53 | 2015-05-19T20:47:09 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] You're the bartender at one of those small, hole-in-the-wall drinking establishments. However, your clientele every Friday night, consists of all major deities and religious figures, down on Earth to have a drink and unwind from the rigors of being a god/prophet/all-knowing-being...
God. Muhammed. Shiva. Hercules. Buddha, and all the others, in for a drink to relax and pass incognito amongst us mortal peons on a Friday night. And you're the one serving their drinks and making small-talk with them.
|
The oldest bar in the city has an equally old and grand sounding name. Sanctuary.
I carefully buff out a streak on the top of the ancient wooden bar, the surface scuffed and worn smooth from years and years of hands. This whole bar is like that, the oak paneling worn in and comfortable like a favorite pair of jeans, smelling like lemon wood polish. Not shabby though, never that, though you would have expected it with how old the place was. The clientele would never dream of letting that sort of thing happen.
The late afternoon light filters through the half-closed blinds, lighting up the dust motes and filling the warm air with sparkles. That sort of thing always makes me smile. It’s so….normal. Ordinary.
Ordinary is NOT this place.
It’s nearly 5 on Friday afternoon, and you would think a bar, even one as small as this, would be starting to jump with the after-work crowd. Not here, though. This place catered to a different sort of clientele.
The bell over the door gives a musical tinkle, and into the bar walks Hermes. He doesn’t look like you’d expect the messenger god of the Greeks to look, dressed as he is in shorts and a t-shirt, a small lithe man with a messy mop of curly hair. But there’s something about his eyes, nearly a glow, that gives him away. I’m handing him his Guinness before he even reaches the bar, saying nothing as he takes his first sip. He sets the glass down with a sigh.
“Rough week?” I ask.
‘Yeah…there was a train derailment near Athens.” I can see the weariness in his eyes, the strain in his ageless face. Surprising that even Gods can get tired.
“I saw that on the news. Messy business…” My voice is sympathetic. Hermes is first in every Friday, so he and I have gotten to know each other pretty well.
“It was pretty awful. Kept me running back and forth to Hades quite a bit. He’s so bogged down in paperwork that I don’t think he’s going to make it tonight.”
Before I can reply, the bell rings again, bringing a larger group with it. I can see Shiva and Vishnu of the Hindu pantheon enter, they’re regulars too, and comfortable enough to let their glamor’s drop as soon as they enter the door. They immediately make their way to the dart board.
Does having four arms give you an unfair advantage? I think as I toss them a wave.
Behind them comes Thor. He’s a surprisingly quiet drinker, content to sit at the end of the bar with a good strong mead and talk about the things he’s seen. I guess he has his fill of drunken chaos in Valhalla and comes here to escape.
I just finish serving Thor when I hear a whistle. “Hey there, gorgeous!” I groan in annoyance as I see Eros enter. He’s a good looking guy, to be sure, but the flirting gets old as fuck. I guess you can’t expect much else from one of the gods of love. Even Hermes sighs and shakes his head.
“DUDE. You’re married.” I snap as I make him his drink. I’m really not in the mood for his shit tonight. “And, I’m taken. I’m pretty sure I’ve told you this about a hundred times now.”
He shrugs elegantly, snagging his Jack and Coke and moving off to his couch. “Can’t blame a god for trying, can you?” Within the hour he’ll have a bevy of goddess beauties around him.
And they keep streaming in, from every pantheon. Osiris and Isis, so in love it’s almost embarrassing to look at them. Jesus, Kwan Yin and Buddha, gone off to a corner to discuss philosophy and drink wine, Amaterasu and her brothers Tsukuyomi and Susanoo, chattering cheerfully with one another as they move to the pool tables. Beautiful blond Epona, smelling of horses and green grass, with a smile for everyone. Gods and goddesses of every culture, coming together to relax and let go of their responsibilities for a few hours. I smile as more divine beings stream in. Odd as it was, I loved my job.
“Have you given any thought to my offer?” I’d nearly forgotten Hermes was at the bar, and I grimaced in apology as I moved to get him another beer. “I was serious, you know. Olympus could use a lady like you.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it. Who wouldn’t? It’s not every day a lowly bartender like me gets offered immortality.” I shook my head. “But I don’t think I can do it. I have too much here.”
“Is it the boyfriend? I could make that happen that too.”
I laugh and make a sweeping gesture to the rapidly-filling bar. “And give up all this? It might not make a whole fuckton of sense, but I like it here. I like this bar, and I like the … errr… people I see here. I can honestly say I have the most unique job ever. Sure, no one would believe me if I told them Ahsonnutli likes her drinks mixed with Pepsi, or that Hera actually doesn’t hate Zeus with the fury of a thousand burning suns, or that Quezacotl isn’t a giant flying snake. I like my place here. But…”
I winked at Hermes mischievously, eliciting a snort of laughter from the messenger god.
“Ask me again in a few years…. Amelia, Goddess of Booze doesn’t actually sound that bad.”
|
The Olympus is mostly quiet tonight. The bar had been busier earlier but after Zeus destroyed the speaker system with a lightning bolt in a fit of rage, the crowd began to thin. People usually stay away during the monthly meeting of the Pantheon rulers but the mood of this meeting is particularly sombre. And usually, if Gods are in a bad mood, you should make yourself scarce before they do it for you.
There are some brave stragglers remaining. Sterculius is relishing the opportunity to drink his beer in peace with no one to complain about his perpetual stench of manure (as the God of Manure, he's had it rough since the Industrial Age with the decline of primarily agricultural societies. Don't even get him started on Monsanto or do, if you want to see a grown God cry). Kalma was also hanging around. Known as the Stinky Goddess of Death, she wasn't particularly popular with anyone, partly due to the ever-present smell of rotting flesh but mostly due to her obsession with the role-playing boardgame, Munchkins which had been admittedly fun until Kalma got her hands on it and made everyone play it endlessly. A couple of the other Gods of Death were hanging around; Hades, Arawn and Vanth were doing shots in a corner of the room. Kingu was playing bar trivia because she was a dragon and even the rulers balked at her sheer size and impressive scales.
But even I was unsettled by the meeting of the rulers. Everyone was here. Even the usual flakes, Jehovah and Odin were present. I shifted over the end of the bar that was closest to them to "clean glasses" while catching a drift of their conversations.
"I don't understand it," Jehovah said. "When you guys fell out of favor, it was because we were taking control! But what's replaced us now?"
Allah was nodding in agreement. "I mean, my religion has been a bit of a mess recently but you went through the Inquisition and the Crusades and your numbers still held on!"
"It's painful when your children turn their back," Dagda said, sympathetically. "I supported my Celts in withstanding Rome and now, they don't even know my name."
"Secularism is killing us," Vishnu sighed. "I just don't get it. Why are we so hard to believe in? They still pray to us when they're stressed or scared! Why not a little thank you every now and again?"
"Right? All I ever wanted was hearts cut out of chests," Ometechutli said, thumping his fist on the table. "And in return, I kept them steadfast and strong!'
"At least your civilization got eradicated instead of just turning their back," Odin said sadly.
"You just have to be firm with them," Bondye insisted. "When the Haitians began to turn their backs on me, I sent them an earthquake. It really taught them a lesson."
"I'm... I'm not sure that it did," Jehovah said slowly. "Many of my missionaries helped with the recovery efforts and my numbers in Haiti strengthened."
Bondye glowered at Jehovah in response and fell back on his chair.
"How did you guys do it?" Allah asked tearfully. "How did you survive this heartbreak?"
"Alcohol," Jupiter joked. Everyone chuckled. "No, but seriously, talking about it helped a lot." He glanced around the table and smiled. "These guys really came through for me. Talked me down from a lot of ledges."
"I don't think you need to take this lying down," Zeus growled. "We can gather all the Gods of War! Move quickly and the humans will never know what hit them."
"You would help us like that?" Vishnu said incredulously. "Just like that?"
"Not quite," Amun-Ra responded. "In return, we would want some of your followers to return to being OUR followers."
Jehovah, Allah and Vishnu exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"Well, I don't know..." Jehovah started.
"Look," Jupiter interrupted jovially. "Just think it over. Your religions have been weakening since the dawn of the Internet. Mulling it over for one month won't hurt."
"You're right. It couldn't hurt to think about it," Vishnu quickly replied. "Why don't we adjourn the meeting now so Allah, Jehovah and I have some time to discuss?"
The other Pantheon rulers looked delighted as they all stood up, preparing to leave. As they trickled out, only Dievas hung back.
"Some of us aren't so bad, guys," he said in a pleading tone. "I know you're probably thinking about Ometecuhtli and his human sacrifice desires and Bondye's viciousness and Zeus' wrath but I was considered the source of all good things in Lithuania. Like, peace and flowers and birds."
"Wait, what type of birds?" Allah asked. "Because pigeons are fucking awful and you should be ashamed of yourself."
"And crows are the WORST," Vishnu added on.
"Just the good birds. Like, cardinals. And hummingbirds!"
Jehovah just nodded at him. "We'll keep it in mind, Divas. Thank you."
And Dievas left as Allah, Jehovah and Vishnu huddled into a quiet little circle and muttered things that were beyond my earshot. I was shaking slightly as I cleaned my glasses, suddenly fearing for the safety of myself and all those I cared about and thinking about how the tips were not worth this intimate look into the casual decision making of our holy overlords.
| 2015-06-01T10:19:44 | 2015-06-01T09:55:41 | 78 | 16 |
[WP] A dyslexic child accidentally sends their Christmas list to Satan, surprisingly they get what they wanted but there is a catch.
|
*BEEP!*
"Hello, and thank you for calling the law offices of Abbadon, Baphomet, 'His Dark and Unholy Eminence, the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies and Lord of Darkness', and Ghandi. Please pay attention as our menu options have changed."
"Of course they have," muttered Santa. He absentmindedly twirled a pen between his fingers, leaning back in the large leather chair behind the hand-carved Douglas Fir desk.
"If you would like to make a complaint, please press 1, hang up, and end your life in a convenient but timely manner. A representative will respond to your complaint or complaints personally."
"If you would like to speak to a loved one, please press 2, and listen for the beep. Please clearly state the name and date of death of your loved one, at which point our switchboard operators will connect you to their personal torture chamber."
Tap tap tap tap tap. How many damn options do they have? thought Santa, tapping the end of his pen in irritation. Computers. A low, humorless laugh escaped his lips. Hell pioneered voice automation menus way back in the early 1900's, and Saint Nicholas hated them as much then as he hated them now.
"If you would like to beg mercy from a god or gods, please press 3 and wait for the beep. Please be patient, as it is most likely your god or gods have abandoned you."
"If you'd like to speak to sort-of-a-person, please press 4 and hold for the next available slot."
Santa pressed 4 as the office door swung open, creaking loudly on its hinges. A bespectacled face appeared from behind it, and the scent of cookies and candy canes drifted into the room. "Are you *still* on the telephone, Nicholas?" asked Ms. Claus incredulously. "I've almost finished making dinner, you've been in here for an hour!"
Santa banged his fist on the table, knocking over several picture frames and an empty mug of caffeinated cocoa. "I've called four times dear, and I haven't been able to get through. Must have taken my number off the executive clearance list, the bastard!"
"Oh Nick," admonished his wife. "Stop that, what if the elves hear?"
Santa rolled his eyes. "Maybe they'll pay a little more attention to what letters they collect on their weekly pickups. This whole mess is their fault." Grumbling, he stood to adjust the red and green suspenders connected to the large black belt stretched across his ample belly.
"Mistakes happen Nicholas, don't be so negative. I seem to remember a few nights that somebody left all of Europe sitting on the floor of the garage, hmm?"
"First of all," began Santa, "it wasn't 'all of Europe', it was the Ukraine, Belarus, and Scandinavia. And I made it in more than enough time since I got to cut out most of China after that government disbelief campaign."
His wife shook her head. "Those poor dears. At least they get to make their own gifts in those workshops you always tell me about."
"Ah. Yes, the workshops. Those children sure do make a lot of toys, that they do."
Ms. Claus smiled, "that is so sweet of-." She was interrupted by a loud click, followed by gruff voice.
"Mr. Claus?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for waiting sir, I do apologize for the mix-up. We've just updated our system and some of the information hasn't been switched over yet."
"Alright, look, I need to speak with him immediately."
"Yes sir, he's just getting off a call with the Pope, I'll connect you in just a moment."
A few minutes later, Santa heard the familiar jovial voice through his earpiece. "Santa baby! How are we my man, it's been too long!"
"I'd be a lot better if you hadn't taken my mail, your Unholiness."
There was a dramatic sigh. "So formal, Nicky, what happened? We used to be buddies, pals, amigos! Nick and Nicky!"
Santa pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Scratch, you know I could care less what you do with your business. I'm not one to judge a man on what is and isn't torture and what is and isn't slave labor. But when you go and do something like this bit with the letter, it makes my job ten times more difficult."
"Now Nicky, that letter, I'm assuming you're talking about the Ketterman boy, yes? That letter was *clearly* addressed to me. Your boys didn't pick it up, so I don't believe I have any fault in this matter whatsoever."
"You sent the boy a .32 Winchester."
"He asked for a toy gun."
"And a grey wolf who clearly hadn't eaten in weeks."
"He was young, so its technically still a puppy."
"And a dead body."
"Hey, he specifically asked for a skateboard! He didn't specify one whether or not he wanted a skateboarder with it. Besides, I assumed that box wasn't airtight when we shipped it."
"Scratch, you can't be doing this. Not on Christmas morning, and not wrapped in presents. It makes me look bad, and I'm losing enough households as it is."
Satan let out an exasperated groan. "You're breaking my balls Nicky, you're breaking my balls." After a few moments, he spoke again. "Just because it's you, I'll take care of it. I've been driving a homeless man in that county into insanity, I'll just have him deliver a few other presents after Christmas, pile up a few more bodies, and get any level of suspicion off you."
Santa let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Scratch, I really-"
"IF," said the Devil, "you promise to finally come to the Easter barbecue. I've invited your for three centuries and you haven't come once."
"Fine. If you don't take my letters, I'll come to your stupid barbecue."
"Splendid! You'll love it, the honey-glazed whale ribs are to *die* for."
"Sounds delcious. Look Scratch, I really need to get back to work, I've only got a few weeks left."
"Of course! Go go go, you're a man with a mission. I'll send your invitation in the mail!" The Lord of Darkness let out a giggle. "And don't worry, I won't let little Thomas address it. Not that he could anyway, sort of tough for him to grip a pen..."
"Ok, take care. Goodbye." Santa hung up the phone. He sat quietly for a moment, then stood and started towards the sound of pots and pans clanking about. "Hey Honey?" he called, closing his office door behind him. "We're gonna have to actually go to that barbecue for once."
|
**Sorry for my English. I'm burned out but couldn't resist.**
In a sleepy town on a Spring night, an eight year-old boy named Chalrie is being driven by his mom, Summer to an after-school club. On the way he explains to his mom about how in school his teacher asked him to think about what it was he wanted the most in this world for Christmas. His mom, in the light of conversation asks, "Well, what did you say." "I want a sister", he replies. Summers face lights up and she laughs out loud.
They arrive at Charlie' school, she kisses him on the cheek, tells him to say hi to his teacher for her and assure him that she will pick him up in two hours. Charlie walks into his school and walks through the corridor to a classroom where his classmates are.
Two hours pass and his mother looking rather rushed picks is waiting outside in her car. Charlie walks up to the car and opens the door. "Are you okay, mommy?" , Charlie asks. "Oh, yes. Just lost track of time, sweetheart." Summer starts the car and they drive towards home. Summer looks into her rearview mirror and says in a premeditating way "maybe you should write Santa Claus a letter". Charlie nods in agreement.
When they get home, Summer sits Charlie on the table and hands him crayons and paper and tells him that she will post it to Santa Claus when she gets the chance. He pulls his chair in and begins to write:
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*"Dear Satan Claws,*
*My name is chalrie and I'm eight.*
*For Christmas what I would like more than anything is a sister.*
*Thnaks,*
*Charle.*"
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He folds his letter over and pushes himself away from the table. At that instant, his father, Gerald walks in through the front door. "Sorry I'm late guys, the office had me working late again. Summer walks into the front room from preparing food in the kitchen. "Oh no problem, hun. We just got back ourselves really."
Gerald walks into the living room where Charlie is stood waiting for his dad to notice his presence. Gerald falls into a blob on the couch, his face tired from the day. Charlie gets his letter to Satan Claws and Gerald bursts out laughing but manages to compose himself quickly. "Your mom ask you to do this?" Gerald asks. "Yes but we were doing it in school as well." Gerald hands him back the letter and pats him on the head before pulling himself out of the couch to walk into the kitchen.
Later that night when Charlie is falling asleep but something in the deep recesses of his mind that something is terribly wrong. He sheds a tear before falling asleep. The next day when he is having breakfast prepared he tells Summer of his thoughts. She shrugs her shoulders and tell him that "everything will be okay, you don't have to worry. I'm here to protect you." Charlie feeling assured wipes his tears and tucks into his breakfast.
**In the interest of the narrative, we're going to jump into the future. The date is now the 7th December.**
Summer, who by this time is heavily pregnant is looking through the fridge for something to eats starts to feel sharp pains in her belly- It must be the baby. She runs to the phone to call Gerald. "Gerald. It's happening." as she's rushing out gargled words Gerald is trying to assure her he'll be there but she should phone an ambulance. Summer hangs up and dials '911'. She asks for an ambulance because she's pregnant but something doesn't feel right. The Operator is telling her that one will be with her shortly.
The colour drains on her face sending her a pale white. She drops the phone and her body shortly follows. Charlie enters from the living room to see his mom on the floor, he can still hear the operator talking down the phone and picks up the receiver. "Hello? My mommy is on the floor asleep" he says to the operator holding back the tears. The operator is now asking Charlie a series of questions but assuring him that everything is going to be fine.
Sirens are heard in the road and is shortly followed by a rapid knock on the door. Charlie runs to the front door to be greeted by two EMT's who quickly attend to Summer. They put her onto the stretcher to take her to hospital and also ask Charlie to come with them since there was no other person around. Charlie agrees and is sitting in the back of the ambulance. He doesn't understand everything the EMT is saying but key words such as 'Rush', 'ICU' and "Blood". Charlie manages to fight the fear and tears knowing that the EMT's attention is better directed at his mom.
They arrive at the hospital and Charlie is shown his dad who has just arrived himself. "Are you okay?", Gerald asks. Silence. Well would you like a drink? I'm going to the cafè and then speaking to the doctor." Silence still. Gerald walks over to a row of seats in the waiting room and watches the newscast from the TV.
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*Did you know that one thousand six hundred and thirty four people died on Christmas and Boxing Day? The mystery of the nation's deadliest year coming up.*
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**Again, in the interest of the story we're jumping forward in time to 8 hours later.**
Charlie awakens to the light of day and the noise of telephones going off. He looks over to his left and sees his father sitting hunched over, holding his head in his hands. Charlie taps him and Gerald jumps. Gerald wipes his face and says, "Hey, you're awake. Did you have a good sleep?" Charlie hams under his breath but before words could come out his mouth, his father interrupts- "Last night your mother passed away, I'm so sorry Charlie." Charlie starts weeping and asks what of his sister. Gerald shakes his head and begins crying, heavier. Gerald holds his son as tight as he can, hoping to squash the pain out but to no avail. Their tears still flowing.
**In the interest of the narrative, we're jumping ahead in time to exactly a year later. In this time, Charlie has come to terms somewhat with the death of his mother. Gerald quickly moved on and found a lady who has a daughter. She is younger than Charlie.**
In a sleepy town on a Spring night, a nine year-old boy named Chalrie is sitting in front of a widescreen television. He's watching 'A Christmas Carol' with his younger sister, April. Gerald walks in and sits on the sofa behind the kids. "You guys okay?". "Yeeeaahhhhhhh" replies April not really listening to him. Charlie stands up and walks over to his dad and says, "Did mommy have to die so that I could have April?" Gerald smile turns and grabs Charlie's arm. He looks into his eyes and says "Well, God always has a plan and a reason." They both cry as the old wound hurts once more. Softly, into each other's arms until they fell asleep.
| 2015-11-19T10:48:53 | 2015-11-19T10:38:26 | 186 | 21 |
[WP]Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet, but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance. They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself. Neither side expected what the other would bring to war
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Arch-Minister General Gxokloii of the Tni'il laughed at the pitiful demonstrations of earthly weapons. The earth diplomat stood by quietly, observing the chaos from the stellar embassy bay window. The general loomed over him, his translucent scales fluttered flushed in bold reds and yellows. "Are you telling me that in the time it took your planet 100 laps around your fat, lazy star that these are the most 'devastating' weapons you could develop? You barely have 10,000 battleships engaged in this fight." He chuckled, the translator buzzed and crackled, unable to translate the strange guttural sound.
"We thought more of you, you know." He continued. "We saw your nuclear weapons and nanotechnology and honestly thought this, *this* would be a battle that would be worthy of the Halls of the Tni'il gods, that your cleverness, in all of the galaxy, might have been a match to our own. My entire species, spread throughout this galaxy, has tuned into this spectacle expecting to observe a war, not this one-sided slaughter."
But still, the diplomat kept an increasingly unnatural cool. As ships crashed and smashed into fiery doom, the general wanted something more. "Surely the knowledge of your species imminent destruction and enslavement weighs on your mind even now. Allow me to demonstrate!" The general, with a mere point, singled out one of Jupiter's moons.
On command, a hole in time and space sliced down it's center and engulfed the moon's entire mass.
"That! That is power." Said the General. "And I could, just as quickly, turn this weapon onto your home. Upon your family and friends, crushed by the might of stars themselves!"
But still, the diplomat held his cool.
"Do all of your species feel nothing as you do?" The General asked. "This is the end."
"It's impressive, General, it really is a testament to your combined might." But he still did not take his eyes off the battle as it raged.
"Why then do you stall? Sign over the planet to me, give us your leaders and resources and, perhaps, I will exercise lenience, not as if you have any say in the situation. Your short lived species may yet make a fine zoological exhibit."
"How long do your kind normally live?" Asked the diplomat.
A moment lapsed as the translator calculated the units into familiar terms. "...by your earth's units of time, nearly 900 years."
"That's about what we calculated too, even our oldest man is barely a child to your race."
"And I see you fight like one, too."
The diplomat let the insult slide. "Last time you were here we figured out real quick there would be nothing we could do to match your level of technology in that window of time. That this would be a one sided slaughter."
A lieutenant quietly came to the general's side, trying to whisper into his superior's ear. The general growled at him. "Not NOW, fool! Can't you see they're about to surrender?" The aide backed away, shamed into silence.
"So, what is it then? Why hesitate even one more moment? Are you waiting to deploy a secret weapon?"
"Secret? Oh, heavens no. The 10,000 battleships you see now are the 10,000 battleships we have."
"Perhaps you just wish to see your species die slowly, is that it?"
"Not alone, at least."
Finally, the aide forcibly interjected, getting the general's full attention. But as they communed an earth vessel exploded next to the embassy, throwing debris in all directions. There, in the drifting wreckage, a small creature writhed in the void of space, freezing, asphyxiating. It took the general only a moment to understand what he was seeing wasn't the pink of flesh and red of human blood. The Tni'il child, garbed in Earth Defense attire, barely grown into his scales, died right before his eyes in terrible agony.
"We cloned just about 10,000 of them in all." Said the diplomat. "It's funny, really, the notion of honor in an act of war, honestly it's something we've never really excelled at." Finally the diplomat turned to face the general, his eyes twinkled in the starlight.
"Didn't you say this was being broadcast for your entire species to see?"
|
It's been a hundred years already, time just flies my grandpa said when you're preparing for intergalactic war. When I was little he told me that war never changes, but for some reason today he said it finally has.
All the years of the nations fighting ended in the blink of an eye; a mere 80 years before I was born. Canada, USA, Russia, Europe, even China had started to work together overnight for today. The day we fight for earth.
In case you're reading this and all of the books on our history have been destroyed by war and this message managed to survive the tortures of space, we're humans. Or at least we where before we had to say goodbye. Back before I was born and when my grandpa was growing up they came. The aliens. The leaders at the time managed to negotiate an agreement with them to give us one hundred years to prepare.
They knew we'd never be ready and they'd win, as did we; or so we thought. Today was the day, January 1'st 2016. The day we'd wage war for our planet, our universe. For everything, for we would refuse to go down without fighting. We were going down with our dignity!
It was only the crack of dawn when our TV turned on and started to blast the emergency alert system, as did our radio. The governments of the world worked together to jam all communications with this message, it only lasted thirty seconds but easily felt like an hour; the representatives of Earth that our past generations voted came on and started to speak. All the languages of the developed world, even sign language translators for the deaf.
"Today, we as human kind will fight against the invaders that came here one hundred years ago. We might die. We might loose everything. But we wont loose our dignity. I want everyone to head outside once this broadcast finishes. We've set up a dead man's switch, a sort of fail safe mechanism to ensure no other living creatures in our galaxy, our home, the Milky Way will have to suffer. We call it the Gravity Box. I won't disclose what it will do despite this signal being encrypted. All I will say is if we don't make it out of this, god bless you all. I hope we can all meet each other again some day." His final words, "Transmission Over" as the signal went dead.
As I walked outside I could see them coming, the clouds splitting, a giant ship appearing. The airstrike sirens where going off but I could hear them over the sirens, "Are you prepared to die?" they said. From a loud booming speaker all that could be heard from all directions was the spokesperson speaking out. "We may die today at your hands, but we won't die without our dignity".
Suddenly I saw a port on the ship open, a bright light coming out of it setting everything it touched on fire destroying it instantly. You could hear see and hear the rockets as they where fired at the ship, they didn't even scratch the outside. The mass killing of all life on Earth was clearly not going to stop, in the air sounds of rockets exploding from being hit, when the spokesperson spoke again.
"Have it your way, we're bringing the Gravity Box online." and it just cut out as a beam of light struck down far away.
You could feel it. Gravity just disappeared, then reappeared; at least I thought that was what was happening. You could see the blast of light as it was coming. A massive shock wave as the ship came down to earth and began to vaporize. I had heard conspiracies that we'd stop these aliens with a Anti Matter weapon but this surely couldn't be it. It wasn't
--
Grandson: What happened grandpa?
Grandpa: Well, that was all that we could recover.
Grandson: What do you mean?
Grandpa: The scientests only recovered that of the signal from the Milky Way.
Grandson: What's the Milky Way?
Grandpa: It's a now long gone Galaxy, nothing remains. No Matter, no Anti Matter. We don't what happened but we know they gave up their humanity to save all of us.
Grandson: Who are they?
Grandpa: The humans. A mysterious race of creatures that once inhabited the giant blue pearl. This and a golden record on a probe named "Voyager" they sent our direction is all that remains of them. They gave it all up, for us.
Grandson: But why?
Grandpa: Apparently it's just how they lived when they where still alive.
| 2016-01-01T20:28:08 | 2016-01-01T13:58:25 | 57 | 24 |
[WP] You're a powerful demon who's been locked away by an artifact for thousands of years. Some mortal fool has finally found it...and it's a sweet old lady. You really don't know how to decline all the offers of food and cookies and other help.
|
"I ate her heart."
She smiles sweetly at me, a frown playing faintly across her brow as she mouths the words silently back at me. "Oh, umm, yes?"
"Her heart." My frown mirrors her own now as I raise my voice. "I ate," I raise my hand to my mouth in a feeding gesture, "her heart."
"Oh, are you hungry, dear?" She raises her eyebrows at me. She smells like soap and... a flower. Something unfamiliar to me. She moves to get up, her joints creaking under the weight of her years.
"No, I mean, her heart. Her soul." I hold my hand out to still her, taking grasp of her own. Her skin feels like a cool fabric, velvet stretched over ice.
"Whose bowl?" A crease forms between her watery eyes. "I have a lamb shank in the freezer. Harold use to love his lamb."
"Soul, her soul. I... how long as that lamb been in your freezer? Don't eat that." I shake my head, the long horns twisting majestically above me swaying. "Carol, from number 92. You demanded her soul?"
"Why do you have Carol's bowl? Not the glass one," she smacks her lips, "from Turkey. She always has such lovely Turkish delight." She brightens with childlike wonder, erasing the years on her face. "We went to Turkey once, Harold and I." She drifts away with the memory.
"Mary, why did you summon me?" I squeeze her hand, still in my own. She smiles at the tactile gesture, her milky pupils shining as she searches around my face. I realise she can never find my eyes.
"Such a good boy for visiting." She pats my arm with her free hand. "I'm sorry I burnt the casserole. Carol would be so angry if she knew I was cooking, she made me promise I would stop." She turns her head towards the kitchen, where the acrid smoke from my summoning spell has stained the wooden doorframe a foul yellow. She nods as she considers something. "I have a lamb shank in the freezer."
I make a mental note to throw away the lamb. "Shall I make you a nice cup of tea, Mary?"
She nods, smiling sweetly again. "Such a good boy."
|
Having just purchased a "replica" knife from the satanic exhibit at the museum, which Gertrude mistook as an odd antique shop, she returns home with a bag full of groceries. Inside her smallish home she slides in the tray of cookies in the oven to cook. While she waits for the cookies she decides on making an open faced sandwich for lunch. She takes out the knife and cuts off a slice of rye, the knife hisses and heats of slightly. Taking out some butter she uses the knife to spread the it, the warmth making it easier to spread. Lastly she unwraps her honey ham to slice it. As she cuts in a cloud of smoke erupts from the knife and a figure emerges.
"I am Nephodos! Exalted demon of the higher Hells! Who has relea-"
Confused, he looks around. He thought after so many years of imprisonment that his followers would have been the ones to release him unless all of them were now gone. Soon the sounds of bells and an announcer rang out. Slowly the gaunt demon walked forward to see a small old woman eating a lunch and watching a game show.
"Mortal! You have released me! Are you a follower of my cult?"
"Please try to keep it down dearie, I'm trying to watch The Price is Right."
"Mortal, because you have released me you have made use of an ancient demon law that requires a demon's release from imprisonment to be rewarded with a wish of their desire! What shall it b-"
"I said be quiet please! I want to know how much this washer/dryer is worth."
"Then quickly state what you desire and I shall be on my way!"
"Well I do need someone to help me with my baking."
"Wha-what?"
"Oh yes, you see I've been trying to make a thousand cookie recipes that actually taste good but so far most haven't turned out well."
"But, you can't die until I fulfil your wish. You will be nigh IMMORTAL!"
"Dearie you must keep your voice down!" A soft sharp ding rings out. "Oh that must be the first batch. Come along!" She slowly shuffles up to the fiend and shakes it's hand. "Nice to meet you by the way, sonny."
Dumbfounded, Nephodos looks on, mouth agape at this elderly woman shuffling to her kitchen and putting on her little red oven mitts.
"Is it too late to go back into the knife?"
| 2016-04-16T12:00:30 | 2016-04-16T09:12:41 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Instead of saying "Execute Order 66," Emperor Palpatine accidentally says "Execute Order 65"
|
All over the galaxy the clones stopped. It didn't happen at once, information takes time to travel. It started closest to Coruscant and spread from there. Some of the stronger Jedi could feel it before it happened, a disturbance in the force, a ripple in the binding power of the universe. Every clone trooper, at every station and every post received Order 65. This was the moment they had been training for, a plan years in the making. To a man each one dropped their gun and began the ritual. Their cries echoed around their surroundings, striking fear into all who heard it.
"EYYYY MACARENA!"
|
As Palpatine deeply muttered the order, the generals of the stormtrooper teams gathered their troops and relaid the order onto them.
"The emperor has demanded that we execute the final solution, gentlemen. Now HIT IT!"
As fedora's and top hats are placed on the helmets of these brave warriors, they form perfect symmetrical lines and begin furiously dancing to the Cantina Band's number 1 hit. Tatooine Twerking and the Mustafar Madness ensue, and with the Emperor in his blackened throne begins waving his index finger in time with the beat, he knew the journey towards the DanceDance revolution was complete.
| 2016-09-06T00:10:29 | 2016-09-05T22:01:59 | 170 | 13 |
[WP] An omnipotent being arrives on Earth, and informs humanity that it can answer almost any question. Humanity hasn't found any unanswerable questions after years of asking.
|
Celebrated as a god, this being, who called himself Mundus sat upon a throne of splendor as his wisdom guided humanity to peace and prosperity. Years after listening to his advice, national leaders abdicated their authority to him. A few held out, placing certain distrust in the extraterrestrial being which claimed omnipotence. He told us they were developing weapons to destroy him, but he swore to protect us. Nobody would dare argue.
While most of the year, he worked with the military and other top officials, once a year, a lottery was held where average people could ask his highness any question on international television. Most asked for personal advice, hoping for validation that their faults were really the faults of others. Some asked for practical questions like how to develop good personal financial habits and how to plant a lovely herb garden. I always played the lottery for the 23 years I had been eligible, so it came as surprise that I finally won.
My family and friends flooded me with questions. How do we get rich? What’s the meaning of life? What are hot dogs really made of? Though I thought all of those to be great questions, I had a particular question burning in my mind. When the day came, I approached the palace of Mundus, a great feat of modern architecture which was made mostly of glass to symbolize his transparency with mankind. Both bystanders and the media flooded the front, but when I showed my ticket, I was escorted around the back and into the palace where I waited in line with the other lottery winners.
They asked much of the questions anyone would expect. What did Douglas Adams mean by 42? What’s the solution to Fermat’s Last Theorem? When will I finally a man who can please me? When my turned came, I stepped up to the microphone as millions of camera flashes blinded me. Through it all I could see Mundus, sitting in his throne with a smile fixed upon his face, as if knowing something special was about to happen.
“Er..” I began hesitantly. “What I’d really like to know is…um…who are you?”
I heard a few snickers from the media along with a few instance of people telling me I wasted my question. Mundus, however, waved his hand to silence them. He then got up from this throne.
“I have been asked,” Mundus began. “what am I? From where do I come? But finally, somebody asks, who am I?”
“I am you,” He declared while looking me dead in the eyes. “I am all of you. My knowledge and power is the sum of all humans who have ever lived. Every discovery man has ever made in the past and in the future, every advancement in power and medicine: they are the building blocks of my very being.
“My benevolence. My arrogance. My want for wealth and splendor. I am a mirror for humanity. I’ve seen what every man, woman, and child have seen and ever will see. Their memories are my own.
“As much as I am you, you are me. One day, in the not quite distant future, the collective consciousness of humanity will converge into singularity and I will be born. And we shall explore the universe with the eyes of God and we shall realize that just as you are a component of me, I am a component of something even grander and more brilliant than the whole, collective mind of humanity cannot comprehend. It will be the day I am humbled and the day I find purpose.”
A dead silence filled the globe. In a room filled with dozens of people, I could not hear a single person breathe.
“But why?” I ask. “Why are you here? And how? If we are you and you are us, how can we both coexist?”
A wry smile crawled across his face. “Sorry, only one question per person.”
|
The line outside of the palace stretched for miles. Men, women, and children waited patiently for their turn to ask their question. Everyone had a small trinket or token that they would give to Him as payment for his answers. Time drug on for those waiting in line as they inched closer and closer to their destination. Those near the front watched as people slowly trickled out. Some people looked stunned, others wept openly, some wore masks of fury. Regardless of the question, He would answer and did. But as most people found out as they slowly walked down the cobblestone streets that they truly didn't want to know the answer.
Teresa pushed the small wheelchair forward another foot as the line moved. She looked down at the shiny bald head of her daughter Anne who was asleep. Anne's thin arms gently clutched her worn teddy bear Mr. Basket. A tear rolled won Teresa's cheek as she stared at her daughter. Not that much further she reminded herself and turned her eyes forward toward the stone palace up ahead. Day turned to night and the line trudged forward, like ants returning to the nest. The wheelchair gently bumped into the stone steps of the palace stirring Anne awake, her bright blue eyes blinking sleep away.
"Is it our turn?" she asked her mom.
"Almost sweet heart, just a little further," Teresa replied.
Teresa leaned over and took her daughter up in her arms. Anne felt so light, so weak. Teresa couldn't help but remember when she picked her for the very first time, those bright blue eyes staring up at her with love and warmth.
"Don't cry mom, it's okay. He will give us the answer."
Teresa numbly nodded and began their ascent up the flight of stairs.
Her arms and back were burning as they reached the landing. Intricately carved stone columns stood as sentries in front of the arched doorway. Teresa took a deep calming breath and strode forward, her head held high. A man walked past them sobbing heavily, his back bent underneath the weight of his newfound knowledge. Teresa felt Anne's almost skeletal hand grip her arm. If only she had the courage her daughter did, she thought to herself. They reached a grand hall. It was a large empty room save for the single dais in the back. Stone mosaics decorated the floor and walls.
"Step forward," a voice boomed from the dais.
Teresa walked forward, her daughter held tightly in her arms. Her knees went weak when she saw Him. A radiant figure bathed in a strange soft light that originated from inside of his body.
"Teresa, Anne. Please ask your question," He said gesturing to a large pile of gifts stacked near the dais.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Teresa asked Anne.
Anne nodded confidently, never taking her eyes from the glowing figure. Teresa gently set her daughter down and Anne stepped forward on unsteady legs. Each footfall became steadier as she walked toward the pile of gifts. She placed Mr. Basket on the top and turned toward Him.
"Why do children get cancer?" she asked, her own voice sounding hollow in her ears.
He nodded slowly and shut his eyes for a second.
"An uncontrolled division of abnormal cells in a part of the body," he began before Anne interrupted him.
"That isn't what I asked. I asked WHY they get cancer. Why do terrible things happen to young people. What purpose is there for a child to get cancer. Why? WHY?!" she screamed the last word. Her hands were balled into small fists as she trembled in front of Him.
He sat in silence and watched the little girl shaking in front of him.
Sorrow filled his luminous eyes.
"I'm sorry...I don't know," He whispered.
---
Thank you for reading!! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| 2016-09-09T09:48:51 | 2016-09-09T09:37:52 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] After you died you are told you will get to spend the rest of your life with the person you love most. The next you expect to wake up next to your husband/wife but you don't.
*the next day you expect to wake up...
|
Sarah awoke, expecting to see the smiling face of her boyfriend. She knew she had died. The last thing she remembered seeing was the back of a truck cutting through the windshield, it must have cut through her next. Sarah readily admitted that the accident was her fault, she just wasn't paying enough attention to the road and it cost her dearly. Immediately afterwards a voice spoke to her, giving her the knowledge that while she has passed on from one plane to another, she could at least share this next adventure with the individual she held most dear.
As she rose from the bed and planted her feet on the floor Sarah looked around. Everything looked normal in her apartment, it was just as she left it. Upon second glance however she noticed that everything around her had a slightly hazy, gaseous effect added to it. She began walking around her now blurred apartment, calling Brian's name knowing he had to be here, after all she was promised that the one she loved most would join her in this new existence.
When Sarah stepped outside her building, still calling out for Brian she heard the voice suddenly answer back "Brian's not here." Startled, Sarah managed to stammer "Well who is then? Is it my mom? Okay yeah, I love her but I couldn't stand being in the same house when I lived with her, the thought of spending eternity together just sounds terrible."
"Your mom isn't here either" The voice responded, "What did I first tell you?" "Duh" Sarah said, she was starting to get annoyed. "You promised me when I died I would spend this next life with the person I love and that person is Brian, so get him here right now!"
The voice let out a low mocking laugh, "Brian is with his wife. Apparently the bond they held was stronger than whatever it was you two had." Panic began to set in, Sarah couldn't believe it "There's no way that's true, he said he was going to leave her. He was going to tell her everything! He said it a million times that he didn't love her and that he loved me!" There was a moment of silence, and it was broken when the voice once again inquired "Do you remember what I told you?"
"Yes" Sarah said, a hint of panic in her voice, "you told me I would spend this new life with the person I loved." The voice spoke slowly and without compassion, "People share their next life with the other person they were closest to. They only get to be together though, if that feeling is reciprocated." Sarah felt her insides twist as she fell to her knees, tears started to form as she barely formed the words "So where does that leave me?"
The voice stated matter-of-factly "Just as I told you, with the person you've always truly loved the most."
|
It's been a long time since Harry died, 12 years and 3 months to be exact. The car accident took him at the age of 45.
When I found out I had cancer I accepted it. I knew that at the age of 50 I had lived a full life. Harry and I had never had children, we didn't want them. My family was gone, either dead or moved away. What did I have to live for anymore?
I chose not to follow through with the chemo or radiation, and the doctors gave me 6 months to a year. Something strange happened when they gave me my diagnosis though, they also told me about a new theory, one that I didn't quite believe. Apparently, when you die, you find yourself next to the person that you loved the most in your life.
Now, obviously, I didn't believe that for a second. I had never been a religious person, you die and you rot in the ground, the memory of you living on.
I could hope though right? Harry and I had a wonderful life together. Moonlit walks, adopting all the animals we could, owning a farm and growing our own food, we had reached all our dreams in life. We were two people who loved each other with a passion I didn't know was possible.
Maybe, just maybe, I would get to see him again.
As time wore on and I became sicker, my thoughts were of him. Of the time we adopted our first dog together, the times we danced in the front room with the light from the picture window dancing on the floor with us, and the moments where it was quiet and we sat there reading books together.
I had loved that man so much my heart could have burst with it.
My thoughts were also of my family, my single mother who raised me through the best and worst of times. My hero, a woman who never gave up no matter how difficult life was. Who made sure I had everything I want.
My cousin, who I raised and who grew up to be the most caring, thoughtful person I knew.
The night that I died was a tumultuous and painful one. My lungs gave out, my heart stopped, and I was absolutely terrified. I just held on to this hope of seeing Harry.
When I opened my eyes, I took in what was around me. Apparently there was an afterlife, who knew. And then hope grew, maybe he would be here. I looked to my right, there was no one next to me. I looked to my left and jumped back, unbelieving in what I was seeing. My dear Harry wasn't next to me, instead it was my mother, my hero. The woman who raised me to be the person I was.
And behind her, all the dogs I had adopted in my life. The ones I chose to raise instead of having children, who I had loved so much.
| 2017-01-08T02:54:37 | 2017-01-08T02:03:17 | 431 | 147 |
[WP] Your home is being invaded, fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available: A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who's tired of this shit.
|
The house was silent.
The lights were off, and so was the toaster, the television- even the lava lamp.
Mark crouched behind the coffee table, only letting his eyes pop up above the edge of fhe surface.
Everything seemed to be going as planned. Mr Culkin stood behind the door, one eye on the window and one eye on the christmas ornamenrs on the carpet.
A shadow moved.
The door handle juggled slightly, and a faint voice was heard, saying "The door's unlocked. Must be our lucky day."
Dim lights peeked through the crack of the door way as the robbers slowly, and silently opened the door.
Stepping inside, they looked at the christmas ornaments on the floor, probably wondering why they were there. It was four days till easter.
Mark knew he had made the right choice, for on this night, this very night, the night two burglars broke in uninvited (but he was aware that they were going to), Mr Culkin had triumphed again.
Macaulay Culkin walked out from behind the door and brained the pair with a baseball bat.
|
"And he said that stealing would be easy,
That like stealing from a child, although cheesy,
Would bring in the money, and only insurance would suffer,
Because as we all know, the rich like to use 'em as a buffer."
&nbsp;
"But was it easy, y'know, when they came in?"
"Not in the slightest, they got shocked!" I declared with a grin.
I, Macaulay Culkin, used an old trick I learned,
And when their hands touched the door...
They burned!
&nbsp;
The man's brows furrowed. "B-but that's illegal!"
He went red with anger. "You could hurt innocent people!"
"Aye, I could," I agreed with a few nods.
"Yet they were trying to rob me, the sods."
&nbsp;
"You're still under arrest, Home Alone was just a movie."
Not noticing his seriousness, I said, "That's not groovy!"
His eyes rolled, and he slapped each wrist with a cuff.
And then he called it in, "Two bodies dead, it's rough."
***
Visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories of all sorts, shapes and sizes!
| 2017-01-13T09:01:11 | 2017-01-13T08:57:11 | 51 | 11 |
[WP] Your home is being invaded, fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available: A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who's tired of this shit.
|
*This is really off the cuff and i am not a good creative writer, but for some reason when i saw this WP, this came right into my head, So i had to try and roll with it.*
"Mr. Culkin, We need to be fast. The fastest. Very fast!"
"Its alright i have this, just stay calm."
"They're coming, they're taking our jobs. We could just put lots of obstacles, we know they're lazy."
"That wont work, Mr. President, sir. They aren't as lazy as you believe and they're clever too."
"They're raping our women, they're filling our jails."
"Mr. President, please calm down. I am the best in the business."
"Thats right McCaulay, you're great for business, the greatest. I know a lot of people in the home defense industry. Great people. Lots of great people. But you are by far the greatest."
"Mr. President, we have a problem..."
"What is it?"
"....There's so many of them! Theyre going to be all over the United States within the year! There's only one solution, Mr. President."
"Go on..."
"Mr. President... We need to build a wall."
|
"And he said that stealing would be easy,
That like stealing from a child, although cheesy,
Would bring in the money, and only insurance would suffer,
Because as we all know, the rich like to use 'em as a buffer."
&nbsp;
"But was it easy, y'know, when they came in?"
"Not in the slightest, they got shocked!" I declared with a grin.
I, Macaulay Culkin, used an old trick I learned,
And when their hands touched the door...
They burned!
&nbsp;
The man's brows furrowed. "B-but that's illegal!"
He went red with anger. "You could hurt innocent people!"
"Aye, I could," I agreed with a few nods.
"Yet they were trying to rob me, the sods."
&nbsp;
"You're still under arrest, Home Alone was just a movie."
Not noticing his seriousness, I said, "That's not groovy!"
His eyes rolled, and he slapped each wrist with a cuff.
And then he called it in, "Two bodies dead, it's rough."
***
Visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories of all sorts, shapes and sizes!
| 2017-01-13T09:42:00 | 2017-01-13T08:57:11 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.
|
They walked up and took their seats.
They looked at the board.
They looked at each other.
They looked at the board.
Moments passed. Eventually the telepath looked to his opponent and said, "I have the worst fucking migraine right now."
"Me to," said the psychic. "Let's never hang out again."
"Agreed."
They left.
|
###### CNN (Chess News Network) Alert ########
###### For Immediate Publication ########
The final match in the greatest chess tournament of all time is underway. The flip of the coin came out heads and the Russian Alexei Kusnetskov elected to start. The challenger from China, Ming Zhang, ready and waiting for the first move.
We are currently in hour number 15 of this epic game, as Alexei is yet to decide on an opening move that Zhang won't anticipate.
Updates to follow.
########################################
| 2017-01-19T17:36:57 | 2017-01-19T16:03:28 | 372 | 129 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.
|
They walked up and took their seats.
They looked at the board.
They looked at each other.
They looked at the board.
Moments passed. Eventually the telepath looked to his opponent and said, "I have the worst fucking migraine right now."
"Me to," said the psychic. "Let's never hang out again."
"Agreed."
They left.
|
Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future...
...and they are both blind and deaf.
The only true winner is the audience who stifle guilty giggles as the two fumble with the chess pieces, attempting to make intelligible plays as one man gazes into the future and the second studies the other's mind.
| 2017-01-19T17:36:57 | 2017-01-19T15:54:25 | 372 | 28 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.
|
The two players sit down at the game table amid a sea of onlookers, Bob the psychic looks upon his opponent no doubt peering into her mind. At that very same moment, Betty the Sage whose stoic pose and closed eyes telegraph what must be her visualizing a vivid flash of what's to come.
A breathless moment passes as the crowd of spectators watch the two greatest chess masters in known history lock eyes and in an instant the two share a knowing glance, stand up, shake hands and walk from the stage.
Upon finally realizing what was unfolding one of the breathless spectators finds their voice and manages to ask "W...wait, Who won?" The two players again exchange a glance and proceed out of the room without a word, though each of the opponents had reportedly been seen chuckling silently as they exited.
Edited to complete the thought, thanks to the suggestions below for pointing it out.
|
Chess... a game the displays a balance of skill and strategy... a game I never excelled in, to be quite honest. However, here I am, staring at my few black pieces and an empty mahogany board, always one step ahead.
Louis moved his knight and then I moved my rook without hesitation. "Checkmate" I scowled.
"You always manage to best me!" He laughed. "Please tell me how you do it with such little knowledge of the game."
"Well..." I sighed, "I can see the future."
Louis interjected. "But I can read your mind! You know that! Tell me your cheap trick!"
"What makes a lion superior to its prey?"
He stares at me blankly.
I smile. "His speed and instincts!"
"Fuck you, Rob." Louis cussed as he walked away from the empty table and out of the recreation room.
I guess it's time for our meds.
| 2017-01-19T17:07:33 | 2017-01-19T16:02:28 | 36 | 23 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.
|
The two players sit down at the game table amid a sea of onlookers, Bob the psychic looks upon his opponent no doubt peering into her mind. At that very same moment, Betty the Sage whose stoic pose and closed eyes telegraph what must be her visualizing a vivid flash of what's to come.
A breathless moment passes as the crowd of spectators watch the two greatest chess masters in known history lock eyes and in an instant the two share a knowing glance, stand up, shake hands and walk from the stage.
Upon finally realizing what was unfolding one of the breathless spectators finds their voice and manages to ask "W...wait, Who won?" The two players again exchange a glance and proceed out of the room without a word, though each of the opponents had reportedly been seen chuckling silently as they exited.
Edited to complete the thought, thanks to the suggestions below for pointing it out.
|
One man sat at the base of a tree,
Branching and twisting to eternity.
With heart of oak and legs entwined,
he ruled as king of infinite mind.
Across the board, he then did see,
A kindred soul with eyes like he,
His face showed wonder and he sat carefree
As he stared up the branches and the twists of the tree.
At length they sat, and enjoyed the breeze,
Searching, trunk, branch, stem, and leaf.
They climbed and flew with agility and ease,
but the fractal outgrew what the two could see.
The king smiled, and he seemed pleased,
For finding another who dares to climb trees.
He plucked a leaf, white coloured in hand,
and sent a lone scout to a faraway land.
The other man smiled and gestured around,
Of this bushel of leaves, only a single was brown.
Much like a showman preparing a trick,
He closed his eyes and gave his hand a flick,
The branches rustled, and shuffled around,
And when his palm reopened, his leaf was brown.
| 2017-01-19T17:07:33 | 2017-01-19T16:24:18 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation...
|
Today was my birthday, finally I was 14. I had been waiting for this my whole life. My family was a proud family of wolves, they called our family 'The Pack'.
My father was a Timber Wolf, his coat enveloped him like tar, sucking in all the light around him. My Mother became an Artic Wolf, white as snow. They were perfect opposites but made for each other.
I was worried. I did not feel like a Wolf, but I was assured I would follow the family. They wanted to make a event out of it and invited my entire family for the transformation. I knew something would go wrong.
Great. It was a full moon. This sent everyone into a frenzy. They were all in their wolf forms, howling at the moon. I got anxious. It was 11:58pm, 2 minutes to go.
Everything went quiet, it had begun. I knew it. I had been right all along. I spiritually identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I’m retarded but I don’t care, I’m beautiful. I’m transforming into rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me “Apache” and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can’t accept me you’re a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.
The deafening roar as my rotors began to spin up to speed drowned out the horrified howling of my family. I was finally free to be Apache.
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I could tell by the way they were looking down at me. They could only growl and howl and whimper, but I could see it in their eyes. They were disappointed and already feeling itchy, just in anticipation. I saw my sister scratch behind her ear with her back paw. I could tell my father wanted to do the same, but out of respect for me, out of the difficulty he must have known I was facing internally, he abstained.
I looked up at them, way up, at first as if upon my family (for they were my family), but soon after that I looked upon them as upon inexhaustible sacks of food. I licked my lips. My father must have seen, and transformed back into a human.
"A damned flea," he said, shaking his head.
He looked much less appetizing in his human form.
"Well son," he continued, walking over to the cupboard, "I'm sorry to have to do this, but until you learn to control this power of yours--and don't worry, you're only 14, and eventually you won't be struck by the unmanageable physical urge to turn into an animal like you are now, like all 14 year old boys are..." He took out a glass jar and walked back over, "we'll have to keep you in here."
He unfastened the jar and tilted it on the ground beside me.
"So here, hop on in."
My sister, transforming back into a human behind my father, nudged him a little during her transformation. My father jerked forward and he tried to steady himself. I saw his palm get rapidly closer to me, blocking out more and more of the light, until it was dark completely.
"Well that solves that," said the father, wiping his hand on his jeans. And all the remaining family members laughed.
---
/r/lalalobsters
| 2017-01-21T20:40:55 | 2017-01-21T18:33:16 | 66 | 22 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation...
|
Despite a healthy upbringing, I was never as gifted or as talented as my 6 older siblings.
To them, I was an awkward, tall and beefy kid; slow and pondorous and nowhere near as fleet as they were. They bounded and leapt over trenches and streams as I forded through them carefully. I was ever cautious, paranoid that something, anything, could potentially danger my live and possibly theirs.
But as I grew older I started to care less about them and more about myself, and the small group of friends I made, I started to feel as if I stood out. While they were short, agile and sleek, I was big. Really big. I was a foot taller than the second to compare against me, and that was my father, standing at around 5'10. The rest are even shorter.
It was at my sisters birthday, the one before me, that I really didn't appreciate. It seemed to my parents and they're wolf - like features that my birthday, just a month away, was to be different. They're freakish nature slowly turned me toward the thought of running away, but I wasn't able to now.
My parents and my eldest brother and sister, twins with the same silvery hair, sharp features and yellow-green eyes that pierced your heart and soul, took me out into the country from our little woodland home. Deep into the prairies we went until we stopped in the middle of nowhere.
"Son, dear son, we love you dearly..."
"Then why are we here?"
"Fergus, please..."
"Father."
He clenched his fist. "Fergus von Heiser, don't make this any harder than it already is."
"Then don't sugar coat it. I already know what you have planned." He flinched at this. The twins, Edmond and Lily, smirked with their sharp canines and squinty, wolf - like eyes. My mother, a proud alpha, stood silently off to the side, her arms crossed.
"Then you understand why we have to do this."
"Because you believe that I'm a freak to the family, essentially making you traitors to your own kin."
"None of our 'kin' bear anything other than the Wolf, Fergus." My mother spoke now and I scoffed at this. She was always prideful of her position.
"Mother, Father, don't you think we should get on with the hunt?" Edmond mused, slicking his dark hair back.
"Yes, I think we shall."
All them were wolves in a moment. The encircled me into a corner at the edge of a fence. Each 5 foot wolf growled menacingly at me. I knew better.
"Fine. Be that way."
The fight lasted for seconds. Each wolf ran away limping, whining with their tail between their legs. I just snorted, my white-tan mane blowing in the evening breeze.
I was proud of who I was. If they were to hunt me, then so be it. It's nature's way, for after all...
I am just a white buffalo.
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On my fourteenth birthday my family gathered around my bed as I awoke. 6 wolves impatiently wagged their bushy tails. They were all panting and Marcie had someone's underwear in her mouth. They waited for me to test my transformation.
They waited 'til about 5AM and then they all howled out something that faintly resembled a "Happy Birthday!" and Marcie whipped my face with the underwear.
"So Doug," said my dad, "are we ready for another wolf in the family or what?"
He stood as tall as he did as a human, more proud than he'd been for years, finally getting to see his last child transform.
I got up from my bed and bent down onto my knees excited to join them all. My fat stomach sagged to the floor and I raised my chest up to the sky, my three chest hairs protruding like an offering to the moon.
I started howling out with all of my strength and the family was going wild. Butch and Sandy wrestled with each other and barked, Grey was growling at something he imagined to be floating around the room, and Marcie had gone off into my underwear drawer to tear up the rest of the nearby stock. She'd always go after the mailman's underwear whenever he was on our street and must have been particularly restless now to go after mine.
And then it happened. My chest hairs turned white, and then more started popping up. My chest was soon filled with a circle of white, and a black ring started forming around it. Then my body grew to the size of a bean bag chair and my legs shrunk down to the length of my knee. My howling turned into a series of neighs and squeaks.
"What is this, some kind of joke, Doug?" my dad asked.
They all sat there very still for a few minutes before my downtrodden sister Marcie dropped the underwear from her mouth and transformed back to her human self. She walked off to her room with a grand disappointment, almost as grand as when she found out she wasn't allowed to transform into a wolf in the underwear section of the department store.
"This is worse than the department store!" she yelled back at the room before she entered her own.
I stand corrected.
I just sat there with a forest-sized desire to eat bamboo forming in my stomach.
Soon enough it was just me and my parents left, both in human form. I was ready for a lecture, but my mom broke down to tears and my dad consoled her on the way out of the room.
"You don't even eat meat do you Mr. Panda," said one of my brothers as he passed by the room.
I had always thought it would be great to be a wolf like the rest of them, but I'm just not the same type of person, anyways. I eat salad and I gain weight, I hate going out, especially at night, and I've always been more of a cuddly spirit.
"Pandas are excellent cuddlers if anyone wants to come back in here!" I yelled to my empty audience. No one responded. "I could use a cuddle right now!" My repeated plea went ignored.
"Time to check out the panda colony I guess!" I yelled. "Dammit," I muttered before transforming and getting back into bed.
| 2017-01-21T21:04:04 | 2017-01-21T20:18:38 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] "I wish I was born in the 90s," says the young girl. Suddenly, her surroundings change- french flags fly above and around her, crowds are cheering. It is France, 1793. The king is dead. Long live the revolution.
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"No, silly magic. The 1990's." The girl said as her surroundings began to change again. She was suddenly in front of a computer which functioned just slightly from one moment to the next, hard drive light permanently lit, screatches and static whaling from the case, and from the sides of the giant 80lb monitor a horrific sound played from attached speakers: "You've got mail!"
"TAKE ME BACK. TAKE ME BACK, PLEASE GOD TAKE ME BACK." The girl cried out as she clawed at her own face in agony.
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"What?! This is not the 90s I meant! Not again!" she turned back to lucifer in the form of Liz Hurley, furious that she had duped her again.
"Sweetie, you'll just have to be more specific next time, you can't expect me to read your mind. Look at the bright side, atleast you don't have to deal with the Brendan Fraser Phenomenon in this 90's. Well, only one wish left then".
Man, I wish someone who could actually write made Bedazzled fan fiction.
Edit: Cause it just made sense.
| 2017-04-24T10:10:32 | 2017-04-24T09:42:37 | 37 | 20 |
[WP] You own a magical piano. When you play the theme song of a TV show or movie on it, it transports you into that world. After transporting yourself into a different world, you quickly realize that you never bothered to learn the theme song of your own.
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The piano stood her vigil for over forty years. Each day the man sat and played the same song, and every time the keys absorbed a little bit of the love radiating from his soul, vibrating both the strings of her soundboard and the strings within her very subatomic structure.
As the years passed, the love the piano absorbed never faded. It grew exponentially, with each song adding to its depth. Until the day finally came that the man at the keys could barely play anymore.
The piano knew that this was the last time he would sit at her keys and play the song, the song that opened an entire world of his own imagining.
As the last key fell, the strings of the piano vibrated, but didn’t stop; their vibration had reached a type of critical mass. The energy poured out from the deepest levels of reality, from places so pure and true that those who glimpse them spend a lifetime seeking out just one more nanosecond of such truth, and took the man at the keys along with them.
The trip was only one way. No song existed that could bring him back to the world before, but he had no reason to return. His decades of love and pure caring for his fellow man had brought him to this place of true connection, a world devoid of hatred, but where it was OK to feel bad because someone was always there to make things better.
To this day, whenever you do something selfless, whenever you forgive an unkindness, whenever you chose love and honest connection over anger and isolation, you can hear him, playing his song from the deepest places of your soul.
“Won’t you please? Won’t you please?
Please won’t you be, my neighbor?”
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Justin began very slowly at first. He let out a nervous exhale as he pressed his fingers gently upon the keys. His hands trembled in uncertainty.
He had heard of the piano's magical powers, but he couldn't resist. All he wanted was to play a song. It'd been months and months since he'd delved into his beloved hobby of playing his favorite instrument.
And then an idea popped into his head.
"I won't play the *theme song*" he thought to himself, as his fingers pressed against the keys with building confidence.
"I'll just keep playing *this*, instead..." he smiled to himself.
Rains of Castamere.
[**Game Of Thrones Spoiler from here on out.**]
Oh, but the piano's magic didn't bother with such technicalities! Soon the room became dark, and the voices of men singing along to his tune rose louder and louder and to Justin's utter horror he opened his eyes to that dreadful scene.
His body went numb as he absorbed the shock.
"Rob..." he whispered wide eyed in recognition. His lips began to tremble as he watched the way Catelyn's red hair glimmered with warmth beneath the candle lights.
"It's a trap!" Justin screamed out.
Everyone turned to face Justin. For a brief moment the room went silent as the strange man with odd clothing stood paralyzed in the corner.
And then it happened all at once.
"They're gonna kill you, run!" Justin screamed.
Rob rose abruptly from his chair and creased his brows in realization of what was happening.
"Run," Justin cried, "its the red wedding!" He yelled right before taking a knife to his eye.
**------**
**First time writing one of these 😬😬 still learning the ins and outs, awesome prompt OP! **
| 2017-10-01T18:48:14 | 2017-10-01T18:20:58 | 1,167 | 74 |
[WP] You own a magical piano. When you play the theme song of a TV show or movie on it, it transports you into that world. After transporting yourself into a different world, you quickly realize that you never bothered to learn the theme song of your own.
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A year. It had taken Sam a year, trudging up and down both coasts looking for someone, anyone, who knew just a few notes of an old forgotten tune. A year of the worst humanity had to offer. As far as Sam was concerned, it's was the longest, nastiest year of his life. He'd seen run down slums filled with run down people, flop houses filled with smacked out addicts so withered and emaciated, so brain burned from the latest designer techno-drug they couldn't even tell he wasn't just another trip.
He's seen other things too. Things that defied rational thought. Dark things, that crawled from darker places to prey on the hopeless and helpless. Things he desperately hoped to never see again. Demons, and Devils, and even worse still.
Powers That Be, playing with people's lives, twisting them, using them, then discarding them like so much trash when they'd served their unfathomable perversion of purpose.
A living mockery of Fate.
Hate made flesh and bone.
And a hundred other horrors and abominations, enough to drive a sane man mad, and a madman sane again.
But finally, he's found it. Sitting on an old mechanical players piano in a nice little bar hidden away in the city that never sleeps. Making his way back to the 'magic' piano that was his ride outta this broken world had been child's play after that. Sam felt like Charlie Bucket, and the single yellowed sheet of paper in his hand was as glorious as a golden ticket.
Sitting at that piano, the one that glowed in a rainbow aura only he could see, he plucked the first few keys. It felt good, it felt... right. He was going home.
Taking one deep breath to calm himself, Sam began to play the simple melody, the words that mirrored how he felt perfectly followed almost subconsciously.
"Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got. Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot..."
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Jamie came up to me with a piece of paper. "I have a new song for you to learn" she says with enthusiasm. I am known across campus for my piano skills. I once played in the most prestigious of concert halls. I lead her back to my apartment and I pull out my keyboard. Jamie sets down the sheet music on the stand and look to figure out the notes.
I sight-read the music perfectly to find that it's the Imperial March from Star Wars. When I finish playing I look up to find that I'm no longer sitting in my room. I look up from my sheet music to find a tall black figure standing in front of me. The sound of his breath through his mask makes me pee myself a bit. He lowers his head slowly and with the most feminine tone says "OMG that was the best thing I have ever heard in a long time. Play it again!"
I'm taken aback by the strange contradiction. On all the movies I had seen and all the books I had read. Vader is supposed to be the bad guy, what is going on?
"Mr. Vader, sir, could you repeat what you just said?" I say confused and dazed. "I said you should play it again. It was better than what these plebes can do."
I look at the keyboard and start to play it again. I finish the song and notice that I am on the other side of the room. I look around confused. Did everything change or did I just teleport?
I look at the keyboard and fiddle with the keys. Little do I know that I unintentionally played the Jaws theme song. The next thing I know I'm soaking wet, floating in the middle of the ocean with my keyboard. I look around and see one singular fin coming towards me. I look at the keyboard and struggle to play something. The end result was the theme song for Friends. I end up shivering and drenched sitting in a restaurant across the table from Chandler. He looks up at me and asks "Where did you come from?" I answer "I don't know" I rack my brain thinking of a way to get home. The trouble is that I never picked the theme song of my life.
| 2017-10-01T22:16:50 | 2017-10-01T17:21:53 | 28 | 16 |
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