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stringlengths 20
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 14:34:19
| rejected_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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int64 14
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[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Joyous.
You were the strongest woman I knew. You were the definition of Grace and poise and I wanted nothing more than to be better people together.
The sheer amount of inspiration you gave was unmeasurable.
I hate you so much for doing this....why didn't you pick up your phone....
I hate that you chose me. Why did you pick me to be the last one to talk to...
I hate how selfish you were.
I hate....how I know the feeling...
I understand why and everything you were going through...
If you weren't strong enough to face your demons....how am I supposed to face mine?
Your birthday is coming up...I had something for you...
...
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T19:59:24 | 1,462 | 92 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E.
|
Hey Mom,
It’s been a few months since we’ve last talked. I miss you.
I’m still not quite sure why you decided to cut me out of your life. I’d always thought family wasn’t just blood relations, but those who matter to us. You’ve shown me otherwise.
I just can’t believe you threw me out like that. I watched as you spent years proving how much I mattered to you. And you mattered just as much to me. Then you turned around and got rid of me and my father like we were garbage.
Even if something happened between you and my father, why are you throwing me out? You even tried to turn my sisters against me. You’re trying to sabotage what little family I have left out of spite.
And you know that you’re full of shit. When I called you out on it you just said nothing, because there’s nothing for you to say.
You’re just being shitty because you can be. I hope you enjoy the rest of your shallow life surrounded by the people you’ve manipulated into liking you, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.
Love,
Your Little Shit
| 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T21:31:44 | 235 | 81 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E.
|
To you, whom I didn’t treat right, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry in a way that you may not even realize because it hurts me every day that I live I remember you. I remember not being the very best for you and that cracks me deep down, I don’t know how else to say it. I feel fractured because I wasn’t the best for you, and I wish so badly I could’ve been your superman, your hero, or at the very least your friend. You deserved and deserve so much more than I gave you and I pray you find a hero who will give you everything I didn’t. I made a choice through my inaction to not live to my fullest and treat you the best, I let you down. But please know that I honestly feel we are both better for it. Kintsukoroi means “golden repair”, essential we are better for having been broken and living past it, and I hope desperately that it will get better for you, or maybe it already has, I’m not sure. What I do know is that you are a beautiful entity, one the world sure could use more of, so go out and be more than who you were, because you are stronger now. You have your kintsukoroi, so it’s about time I get a move on with mine.
| 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T23:09:04 | 235 | 29 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E.
|
Hi,
You’ve been gone for about a month and it feels like the longest month of my life. It’s crazy that I spend so much time worrying about the possible bad outcomes of every situation but you truly never know what is going to happen. Six months ago I did not think we would still be together. Yet after everything that’s happened recently I’m still glad that we are.
I hope when you come back that we can keep growing together and experiencing life together. I want to know what it feels like to actually work on something, to not give up and in return, not be given up on.
I’m worrying even now about all of the possible outcomes, what you did while you were away. It’s so hard not to torture yourself with thoughts of the person you love with someone else. Especially being “young” as everyone says that we are. I really couldn’t care less though. I cannot picture my life without you in it. I can’t wait to see your smiling lovely face. I’ve missed you every second of every day.
When you find something special you do not let go.
PS:I hope you aren’t lying.
| 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T23:59:24 | 235 | 11 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Dear friend,
Oh dear friend. If only I could just step back for just one day and talk to you about all that has occurred since we last saw each other. I’m so thankful that we were able to spend the time in life together that we did.
I miss that little sigh of excitement that would rise up from my chest and escape my mouth every time you’d call or anytime I’d see you walking toward me with that little mischievous grin on your face. You were the best part of my days and for that I am forever grateful to you. I want you to know that. I’m so grateful.
The hours we spent on the phone talking about everything and anything and nothing at all. Sometimes talking about nothing at all can mean the world to someone and make all the difference. I just want you to know it made all the difference to me.
I want you to know that you taught me to love in a time that I felt nothing was worth loving.
I want you to know that you taught me my worth in a time of my life that I felt like I had no value and like my life wasn’t worth living. You made breathing exciting. You made laughing and crying together something to live for. I want you to know I’m so thankful for that.
If ever a miracle brings you to this letter, I just want you to know you are forever imprinted on my heart and every once in awhile I feel your mischievous grin creep across my face.
Stay golden
|
Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me.
| 2017-11-05T23:44:56 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
To you, whom I didn’t treat right, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry in a way that you may not even realize because it hurts me every day that I live I remember you. I remember not being the very best for you and that cracks me deep down, I don’t know how else to say it. I feel fractured because I wasn’t the best for you, and I wish so badly I could’ve been your superman, your hero, or at the very least your friend. You deserved and deserve so much more than I gave you and I pray you find a hero who will give you everything I didn’t. I made a choice through my inaction to not live to my fullest and treat you the best, I let you down. But please know that I honestly feel we are both better for it. Kintsukoroi means “golden repair”, essential we are better for having been broken and living past it, and I hope desperately that it will get better for you, or maybe it already has, I’m not sure. What I do know is that you are a beautiful entity, one the world sure could use more of, so go out and be more than who you were, because you are stronger now. You have your kintsukoroi, so it’s about time I get a move on with mine.
|
Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me.
| 2017-11-05T23:09:04 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321
|
We cannot sea each other, and perhaps that is for the best.
What we had was a kind of love, a kind of lust, intertwined with hatred.
When I hate, you love. When I miss, you go far. Our connection seems to be a hurting ever interesting scar.
I sometimes see you in the city center, and already the old wounds begin to fester.
In a endless dance of loving hatred, and one stolen dance, I somehow miss you.
I miss that exploding feeling, that wanting, primal urge to be with someone against my own better judgement.
But I cannot. I love you but I love someone else more. Someone good.
It was a wonderful time,
I hate you.
--------------------------------------------------------
I'm not sure if this even fits. Maybe just me trying to get something off my chest.
| 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T02:39:07 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand
|
Alex,
Its been nearly 15 years since I have seen you. While we were only kids then I think about you often. We were best friends, and even when we had so little and our families argued we still found a way to hang out. Be it play wrestling games in your room, or have grass fights...it was the highlight of my youth. I miss those days.
I wonder where you are, how life ended up for you as we both grew up with very difficult lifes. I even think of your sisters, Ashley and Angelica.
Most of all I am sorry how it ended. How much I miss you even after all these years. How you handed me the empty envelopes already stamped and addressed, how someone got ahold of them and decided to tear them up so we couldn't contact each other anymore. Quite often I find myself searching for you on social media or the internet, but I have never found you.
I only hope that you are alive and doing well. That you are happy.
-GM
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-06T00:29:01 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand
|
Dear J,
Hey J, it's me. For the sake of your privacy I'm going to omit your name like I always do when I mention you. But, I miss you. And I really fucking hate that I miss you. When I was with you, I felt like somebody, I felt like someone who had a(in my mind) foreseeable future. I haven't found anybody like you and I recently finally got over you. Without you in my life I feel like I'm adrift in an open sea, and I see an island in the distance growing smaller and starting to fade away. I have no drive in my life. I've pretty much stopped writing for fun, I have no passion, no drive, no goals for any future. Most nights I just want to find some isolated place and drink myself to death. I tried crying, but I could never manage to make any tears at all. I know, I should hate you for what you did. And most of me does, but every night, when I close my eyes, you're always on my mind.
Fuck you and with regards,
Dalrey_Wil
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-05T22:17:00 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand
|
Emily,
I know this isn't where I should be writing this, and I know i should just tell you outright, but I think everything's just too fucked the way it is right now. Shit's complicated, and you found someone else who might be able to make you happy.
I've done a lot of wrong, both to you and everyone else I've loved, and I know that if you had found out our arrangement would have ended much sooner. I never did thank you for it, it was a little bit of joy in a very grey life.
I can see your name pop up, and I can't bring myself to click it. You're happy now, you stopped drinking and started living healthier, and I can't ever drag you back to where you were.
I do hope I'll hear from you though. Maybe hang out, mix a drink and play some Puzzle League or run a dungeon, like we used to.
Live long, and live well.
Leo
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-06T00:29:03 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
Its been nearly 15 years since I have seen you. While we were only kids then I think about you often. We were best friends, and even when we had so little and our families argued we still found a way to hang out. Be it play wrestling games in your room, or have grass fights...it was the highlight of my youth. I miss those days.
I wonder where you are, how life ended up for you as we both grew up with very difficult lifes. I even think of your sisters, Ashley and Angelica.
Most of all I am sorry how it ended. How much I miss you even after all these years. How you handed me the empty envelopes already stamped and addressed, how someone got ahold of them and decided to tear them up so we couldn't contact each other anymore. Quite often I find myself searching for you on social media or the internet, but I have never found you.
I only hope that you are alive and doing well. That you are happy.
-GM
|
Hi,
You’ve been gone for about a month and it feels like the longest month of my life. It’s crazy that I spend so much time worrying about the possible bad outcomes of every situation but you truly never know what is going to happen. Six months ago I did not think we would still be together. Yet after everything that’s happened recently I’m still glad that we are.
I hope when you come back that we can keep growing together and experiencing life together. I want to know what it feels like to actually work on something, to not give up and in return, not be given up on.
I’m worrying even now about all of the possible outcomes, what you did while you were away. It’s so hard not to torture yourself with thoughts of the person you love with someone else. Especially being “young” as everyone says that we are. I really couldn’t care less though. I cannot picture my life without you in it. I can’t wait to see your smiling lovely face. I’ve missed you every second of every day.
When you find something special you do not let go.
PS:I hope you aren’t lying.
| 2017-11-06T00:29:01 | 2017-11-05T23:59:24 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You have died and you were not good enough to go to heaven or bad enough to go to hell. To decide where to go, you are sentenced to one year helping people cross over into heaven or hell.
|
**Jonathan:** Number 5,545,544. Please come to window 11.
**Sarah:** That's me! That's my ticket.
**Jonathan:** Welcome to purgatory, my name is Jonathan and I will be your savior/smiter today. I just need to ask you a few qu-
**Sarah:** Where am I? I was just driving my car a second ago and now I'm sitting in this waiting room.
**Jonathan:** Oh no, the car crash must have hurt your hearing. Here, let me try again. WELCOME TO *PURGATORY*, MY NAME IS JOHNATHAN, I WILL BE YOUR SAVIOR/SMITER TODAY..
**Sarah:** Purgatory? You mean I'm dead?
**Jonathan:** Lets just say you're definitely not alive.
**Sarah:** But my kids? Where are my kids?
**Jonathan:** Good news, they survived.
**Sarah:** Oh, thank goodness.
**Jonathan:** Bad news, your little boy actually grows up to be the next Hitler. We're all pretty bummed about it up here, but I'm not allowed to mark you down for that.
**Sarah:** What, Timmy?
**Jonathan:** Yep. And he ruins the handlebar mustache forever more. What is it with dictators and iconic facial hair? Anyway, again I can't mark you down for that so don't worry too much. Forget I mentioned it.
**Sarah:** What's going on? Is this a prank? This must be a prank.
**Jonathan:** It's not a prank, it's not a social experiment, and I won't be asking anyone to like and subscribe when we're done here. My job, unfortunately, is to find out if you're meant to go to heaven or hell. I pull this lever on the right, and you fall to hell. I pull this one on the left, and you ascend to heaven. Do you understand?
**Sarah:** But I was just in my car..
*[Johnathan hovers his hand over the right stick]*
**Jonathan:** Do you understand?
**Sarah:** Yes, yes. I understand!
**Jonathan:** Okay, question one. You find out your son becomes the next Hitler. Do you apologize profusely and beg for forgi- Ah, nevermind. I guess we know the answer to that one.
[Jonathan marks a cross on his clipboard]
**Sarah:** Hey, no fair!
**Jonathan:** Question two. There's a homeless man on the street and he's clearly in pain. He's dying. He-
**Sarah:** I help him! I nurse him back to health!
**Jonathan:** You really should let me finish my questions. I have to accept that answer. As I was saying, he's dying. He will go on to be the next Timmy. What do you do.
**Sarah:** I didn't-
**Jonathan:** No, no. It's cool. Give birth to the next Hitler, then save the next next Hitler. No worries. I'm sure this won't work against you.
[Jonathan marks a cross on his clipboard]
**Jonathan:** Okay, the next one is worth 50% of your total mark, so please answer to the best of your ability and take your time. Do you understand?
**Sarah:** Yes.
[Jonathan marks a tick on his clipboard]
**Jonathan:** Well done, you got one right. Now if I just tot up your score... Yep, you scored 50:50. Congratulations! That affords you a place at window 66, welcome to purgatory! You'll need to speak to HR to get your name badge and sort out your health insurance.
|
'I'm sorry to tell you this, but you are decidedly average,' said the angel, peering at me over the spectacles dangling precariously on the end of his long nose.
He was a short, potbellied man with a balding head. Like the other angels, he wore a flowing white toga. Large wings attached to his shoulder blades, and they fanned out behind him, draping over the back of his chair like a coat. The white feathers were distinctly ruffled, like hair that had been slept on. We were in what looked like a standard government office, with some very jarring differences. Behind me, the waiting area stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, with row upon row of mismatched chairs. The service area was relatively normal, with each angel occupying a desk. They even had desktop computers, and a plaque that showed each worker's name in bold capital letters. Apparently, my angel's name was Dave.
'What does that mean?' I asked.
'Well... I'm afraid that you can't get into heaven.' Dave the angel replied sympathetically.
'You're kidding me! I'm going to hell because I'm average!'
'No not at all.'
'So what then?'
Dave squirmed uncomfortably, and I could almost hear his seat squeal in protest.
'It means you're sentenced to a one year trial. You'll be assigned a duty, possibly helping out here in Judgment. Then after the year, you'll have a retrial.'
'But it took me almost one whole week of waiting to get to this point! You're telling me that after that I have to work for a whole year, and then I only maybe get to go to heaven?' I retorted angrily.
'Well, you have to understand, we're terribly understaffed.'
I drummed my fingers on my thighs, thinking.
'Can't I prove to you how good I've been? Who even decides that? Where is God? Or Jesus? Isn't one of them meant to decide this kind of thing?'
'Oh, we don't bother them for this kind of thing anymore! We have a special computer algorithm that decides all of that.' Dave laughed.
'A *computer* thinks I'm not good enough to go to heaven? What about that time I helped May at school with her maths homework?'
'Let's see... hmmm...' Dave's fingers clicked over the keyboard for a moment. 'That good deed was canceled by a bad one just two days later.'
'What bad deed?'
'Two days after helping May with her homework your friend Thomas asked if you two were going out. You said, and I quote "No way man! Her face looks like she ran into a wall.",'
'Right...' I rubbed my forehead. 'I know, what about when I helped my brother pick up all of his Lego?'
Again, the keyboard clicked as Dave went to work.
'No, sorry that won't help either. The Lego was only there because you had thrown it there as a prank.'
'The time I let Marco use my computer to watch movies?'
'Those, unfortunately, were pirated.'
My shoulders slumped, defeated. 'I guess I'll take the trial.'
'Excellent! Give me a moment and I'll process that request....'
I stood there, trying not to be too disappointed. Now that I thought about it, I realised Dave was right. I wasn't good or bad. I was just average. I resolved to do better. In one year, I could move on. For one year, I just had to focus on doing good. How hard could it be?
'You're in for a real treat.' Dave said, breaking through my train of thought. 'You're on Guide duty.'
***
[piranhastories](https://www.piranhastories.com/)
| 2018-02-08T17:24:20 | 2018-02-08T16:41:46 | 120 | 23 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
"I... admit that I am not familiar with that particular game," Death said, hesitantly. "What are the rules?"
He sat in his bed, smiling to himself. He had become an old man, but his spirit was alive and well. "Oh, nothing too complicated," he replied. "In order to set it up, we will need certain materials: a ball, some wickets, and a couple of flags. We'll also need a wooded field on which to play."
With a wave of his hand, Death brought them to a field, with all the requirements that had been set. It was clear to Death that this was a physical test of some variety, and he was beginning to become nervous. Why would an eighty year old man choose to compete in a sporting event, with his life on the line?
"Alright," said the man. "Let's set up the wickets, and we each choose a flag. Then, we play!"
"I begin to find this tiresome," responded Death. "You will explain it to me now. How do I win? What are the rules of this 'Calvinball'?"
|
Death throws rock, I throw rock.
Death throws paper, I throw paper.
Death throws scissors, I throw scissors.
"Its very clear that this will take a while"
Ten years of stalemate go by, finally Death throws paper and I scissors.
Underneath his dark hood, Death whispers "You win."
I blink and find myself alone in a stale hospital room A soft yellow light is illuminating the eggshell white walls and recovery room decorations.
My head is swimming and my eyes hurt, but I did it. I finally beat death.
From the corner of the room I hear the click of the doorknob and see the sway of the door through my foggy vision. In walks the only company I've had for what seemed like an eternity. Death.
"Wait! You said you would give me 10 years!" I meekly sqweek recoiling to the headboard in horror.
"It has been ten years." says Death with a small chuckle.
"How could this be?" I mutter with shock and disbelief.
Death slowly moves his fleshless left hand in front of his torso open palmed and face up, than his right hand over his left in a skeletal fist.
"Two out of three?"
| 2018-03-07T08:28:53 | 2018-03-07T07:40:40 | 65 | 18 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
"...Do video games count?", I ask the death man. He actually looked like a very normal guy, just wearing black clothing.
"...Sure. Just nothing single player."
"Or, we could make our own game out of a game."
"...What?"
"We both get computers. We mod Skyrim with the same mods and same load order. We continuously play through until the game crashes. Whoever ends up with a crashed game first loses. Freezing does not count, and the game must crash. No staying in the main menu or waiting in a house. You must play through normally as you can with mods."
Death looks at me. "...I have a better idea."
"Yes?"
"We play vanilla Skyrim. Whoever runs into a glitch first loses, and you must play through normally."
I grin. "You are a goddamn genius."
"My idea... It just works."
"Guaranteed to happen, because Bethesda."
And we play through the game. Unfortunately, death gets some glitchy horses in the intro.
"...Goddamnit. You win."
The horses in my game also start freaking out like, a second later.
"What a beautiful game, Bethesda."
|
Death throws rock, I throw rock.
Death throws paper, I throw paper.
Death throws scissors, I throw scissors.
"Its very clear that this will take a while"
Ten years of stalemate go by, finally Death throws paper and I scissors.
Underneath his dark hood, Death whispers "You win."
I blink and find myself alone in a stale hospital room A soft yellow light is illuminating the eggshell white walls and recovery room decorations.
My head is swimming and my eyes hurt, but I did it. I finally beat death.
From the corner of the room I hear the click of the doorknob and see the sway of the door through my foggy vision. In walks the only company I've had for what seemed like an eternity. Death.
"Wait! You said you would give me 10 years!" I meekly sqweek recoiling to the headboard in horror.
"It has been ten years." says Death with a small chuckle.
"How could this be?" I mutter with shock and disbelief.
Death slowly moves his fleshless left hand in front of his torso open palmed and face up, than his right hand over his left in a skeletal fist.
"Two out of three?"
| 2018-03-07T09:08:29 | 2018-03-07T07:40:40 | 39 | 18 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
Gasping awake, he's surrounded by a dark haze. He doesn't remember when he arrived or how he did so, but he has a burning ache to go home. He hears a sound, a voice? He isn't too sure as he whips around in a panic.
"Hello?" He calls out. The anxiety, trembling from his voice, "I think I'm lost," he is met with silence. He tries to walk, but finds himself stuck firmly in place. His arms and torso moves just fine. It is when he tries to lift his legs that he finds resistance. The realization of being trapped sends his heart racing, "Hello?!"
"Calm yourself child," a calm voice finally replies. It's withered and rough on his spine. This sound causes all of his hair to stand on end. His body response is anything but calming. From the smoke a shadow appears. He watches in fear until a minute figure emerges. Wearing an all black business ensemble a woman, no more than four feet walks towards him.
"Who a-are you?" He asks nervously, "What do you want? Why can't I move my legs?"
She smiles up to him, "I'm afraid you have reached the end of your road Derrick," his eyes widen at his name, "Yes, I know who you are and what life you have lead. It's only because of that, we even meet now."
"What are you talking about?" He quickly replies, "I just want to go home, to go back to my family."
"That is what I am here to offer. A gamble if you will. We play a game of your choosing. If you win, you go back to your family and I will wait up to ten years before I come to collect. If I win, however, I will take you on the spot," he looks to her as her words settle in. His fear recedes as he finally understands where he is. More importantly, he understands what she is, "Do we have a deal or should I take you now? It's your choice."
"Any game of my choosing?"
"Any. Though I should mention, if either of us are caught cheating, we forfeit and lose immediately."
He furls his brow as he brings his hand to his chin. She watches him deliberate and waits patiently, "Deal."
"Excellent I am glad to hear it," she says as she clasps her hands together, "So what shall it be?"
"It's called 'Not It'," he states with a smile. It was his daughter's favorite.
"Not i-"
"Not it!" He quickly shouts triumphantly. She does not respond. His glee quickly shrinks away in the silence.
Her stone stare is mortifying. She twitches a bit, causing him to flinch before being surprised by an outburst of laughter, "That was very clever of you, Derrick," she says joyously. he looks to her in confusion, "I look forward to seeing you again."
He hears a finger snap moments before opening his eyes and drawing breath again. He's home. Unaware of his encounter he has the feeling he had a very strange dream. Looking to his left he sees his wife seated besides him. Her white blouse spattered with red marks all over. He looks to her in confusion as she looks down to him. He can see a wild fury in her eyes as she plunges the knife back into his chest.
|
"Look, Gary, i am not saying that i don't enjoy our games, but how long have we been playing now?"
"oh, i don't know, it's been a while" said gary, smiling from the other side of the table.
"it's been nine years now, gary. Nine. years. Gary"
gary lifted his arms above his head and stretched, cracking his shoulders and knuckles. it had been nine years since Death sent out his challenge to him. same one as everyone gets, the opportunity to challenge death to a game of their choosing. And, well, death had forgoten to check whom he was challangeing.
"well, if you had had more time to play, we could be further along by now. i mean, twice a week is good,in fact, it's better than what most can manage, but you do know that it gives me an unfair advantage, right? This game is literary all that i can do in my curent state, and twice a week gives me alot of time to pass the time."
"Look, you know i enjoy our games, but i can't cancel people dying untill you lose"
Gary chuckled at that. twice a week for 9 years, and death still thought that he could beet him at his own game?
"you ain't beaten me yet mate. come on, did you get the natchos and MD for the night? it's your turn to buy"
Death sighted
"yes, and your pizza, with extra cheese and peperoni."
"From Marcos? your the best D" gary smiled. You had to give death his due, the guy knew his fast food. piping hot, greasy flavorful and only from the best pizzabaker ever to live. In fact, Gary suspected that Death had taken the baker to the afterlife in person only so he knew where the man "lived", and could keep geting pizza from the man.
"Soo, where where we?"
"You wherejust planing your attack on the Black spine, when you pulled out another book with gear. Wich, i might ad, is bullshit. You really shouldn't be able to do that."
Gary kept grining. it had infact taken him 5 years before he realiced that he could, infact, do that. still, he had his pride. he didn't do anything TO gamebreaking. the game, after all, needed some kind of balance.
"tell you what, i will let you spent your downtime inbetween games in heaven, if you agree to change the game. i really can't stand the confusing tacos"
"THACO death, it's THACO, not taco. sure, i can deal with that." said gary. O, you poor sood. you have noo idea what you just did Gary thought.
Gary started to move away his books. Death lit up, he hadn't really thought Gary would go for it. Then, gary picked forth 5 new books. Way, way ls than the previus game. then he started to write. In a way, he was sad. Death was a decent DM, and he realy liked to play with him. But maybe he could convince Death to keep playing with him after he won
"I chose to be a Cobold, and for my class, i chose wizard... Oh, and his name, is Punpun" Gary Gygax said. It was time to end this, and win the game he had made so many years ago. And he still hadn't used his loaded d20s...
| 2018-03-07T08:38:23 | 2018-03-07T08:36:30 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You are given a writing prompt by your English Professor. You decide to post the writing prompt to r/writingprompts and get an amazing story. You decide to use that story as your own and turn it in as your assignment only to find out that your professor was the one who wrote the story.
|
"James, come in."
It was a spring morning when the boy walked into the tiny office of Professor deMorobin. James knew what he was in for. The e-mail sent to his account last night already alerted him of plagiarism on his recent English paper. But, nonetheless, the boy had walked in with a smile on his face and a skip in his step.
James began the long interrogation as he took a seat opposite the professor's desk, "Professor, you wanted to see me?"
"I only wanted to let you know that your name has already been passed along to the Dean of Students. This is your second disciplinary infraction regarding plagiarism of another work, as I've learned. According to university policy, your grade in the class will be left undetermined until the end of the term, at which point, the Dean will announce his decision on what to do with you."
"You talk way too much, professor. I'll have you know-" James wrly smiled and began to pull out his phone.
The professor slammed his desk with a clenched fist, sending the student jumping in his seat.
"You shut your goddamned mouth while I am speaking to you, boy. Do you think you're in any position to argue right now? This is another on a growing list of student infractions in addition to your current academic probation status."
James fumed and tried to continue on with his point, "Yes, but..."
"But what, sir?!"
James sighed and pulled out his smartphone. He flipped through block after block of Reddit texts showing off the account that had written the story he had turned in.
There was copious amounts of comments and posts on NSFW subreddits ranging from the usually gonewild subs to the more stranger watchpeople die subs.
"Tell me, sir, how did you know that I stole the story?" James smirked. The fish had taken the bait. "Now, you wouldn't want anyone to know about this, would you? I'd say a small B+ should suffice for me, in exchange for my silence."
The professor stared at James. He turned his laptop around to show the boy the writingprompts post of the story, as well as the boy's submitted paper.
Ctrl + A, went the professor's fingers on the paper. Ctrl + C, then we switch to a newly opened Google Chrome tab. Ctrl + V, goes the text into the google search bar.
Thus, the boy's original work immediately turns up a result. On Reddit. On /r/writingprompts.
The boy nodded. The professor shook his head.
"You do realize that it literally just took a run through Google to realize your story was plagiarized from a reddit post, right?"
"Yes!"
"And, you also know that there's no way you can link me to the account, because that post is publicly available and you have no way of specifically connecting me to the account, right?"
"Righ- Oh... shit."
deMorobin groaned and muttered quietly to himself (very, very quietly to avoid getting a complaint from the boy's parents at a later date), "Jesus christ, I hate these fucking trust fund kids."
James was expelled the next week.
|
What’s the closest thing to underwater basket weaving.... you muse as you scroll through your college’s course catalog. You’re a second semester senior, you’ve already been accepted to your top choice law school, and the only academic requirements you have left to fill are electives. You see no reason to be sober between now and graduation.
Creative writing 101... it isn’t underwater basket weaving, but it can’t be much harder.
Only after 4 years of rigorous academic writing, you can’t come up with anything better than a poorly recounted horror story your summer camp bunk mate Alec—Alex? Alan?—whispered to your cabin one night. How were you supposed to know it was a popular urban legend. Al-whatever-the-Fuck said he made it up. You were paying more attention to how gross his acne looked under the glow of the maglight he had clutched under his chin, anyway.
So now 15% of your grade is a D, and unless something magical happens —right in front of you so you can write about it—another 15% of your grade is heading in the same direction.
Adderall, which is usually its own type of magic, just leaves you frantically writing thumbing your way through the reddit app. You can’t remember the last time 5 hours of work —you know you’re using that term loosely— left you with only your name and the date at the top of a word document.
You stumble across a subreddit, writing prompts, and you have your first original idea in what feels like forever. Chuckling to yourself, remembering your ancient, doofus of a professor’s lecture on “themes,” you decide yours might as well be plagiarism.
Ctrl-a, ctrl-c, curl-v, a silent thank you to u/thetigolebittycommittee69 , and your assignment is done.
But now, standing in your professors office, watching his face turn purple as he rips you a new asshole, you realize you may as well wave law school goodbye. Because this guy is liberally throwing words around like academic review, and expulsion. He’s typing his email to the dean in loud thuds right in front of you.
Your mind is racing. You couldn’t have predicted this! Thetigolebittycommittee69 has a phd in English? Sure the story was good, that’s why you picked it. But You thought for sure it was by some teenager after surfing through the guys profile, all his other comments and posts were on pornographic subs, or commenting on the hotness of underage girls posting bikini pics to r/teenagers. Dumb kid stuff....
Creepy ass adult stuff
“What the hell are you smiling about?” Your professor spits, “put your goddamn phone away.”
You slide into one of the chairs in front of this douche bags desk, taking a handful of screen shots for evidence. You try and think of a clever rejoinder—but fuck you’ve already established creativity just isn’t your thing.
“I think the dean would be interested in some of your other posts Tig Ole Bitties.”
Turns out your theme is mutually ensured destruction.
(Just realized I have the same twist as another comment, should’ve read through them first, oh well).
| 2018-04-14T08:11:32 | 2018-04-14T07:28:05 | 44 | 28 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing.
|
They burned the stars from the sky. They tore worlds asunder. The great plague of man spread from system to system grinding the Seven Celestial Empires into dust. All for one man, The Damon.
The Korlanth found them on a backwater planet known as Earth. Foolish and headstrong as ever, their wisdom faltered against their never-ending quest for new slaves. Humans, they were called, were weak but clever. They bred fast and adapted well to almost every inch of their chaotic world. Had the Korlanth stopped for a moment, they would have realized those very traits would be their undoing. Our undoing.
It was a matter of weeks but the humans were conquered. They didn't stay that way. Humans had an endless experience with war amongst themselves. They had a boundless imagination that we could never comprehend. They had hundreds of stories on how to deal with an alien oppressor; most far more insidious than we could ever be.
Their leader, Damon, organized and defeated the Korlanth, casting off their oppressors as a Jharnar casts off its skin. Decimated, the Korlanth made a hasty retreat, abandoning much of their arms and ships, but stealing The Damon in spite.
That was a mistake.
The Humans learned. They adapted.
They hunted. They fought. They spread.
There are now but seven piles of ash to mark our graves.
Humans.
They burned the stars from the sky. They tore worlds asunder.
And they got their Matt Damon back.
|
The apparent reason for the kidnapping was to fill the vacant role of (janitor) on the ship. As the Aliens know earth is the most fecund spot in the Milky Way for specimens to fill janitorial roles.
What the aliens on the ship hadn’t expected was when Matt started work on the ship, mopping floors, cleaning space shit, and other mundane jobs, he was also doing reconnaissance on the ship for the Vladimir Putin ( a Russian oligarch who knew Sputnik was only the beginning of a rich space life he wanted now- before musk)
Putin being an evil genius and all put Matt Damon on all the space-job apps, knowing he’d be ‘mopped up’ immediately by extra terrestrials.
The script would then blip to Matt Damon’s grueling training to be able to fit a giant reconnaissance device in his ass hole- the weird doctor from human centipede was the brains behind that.
So back on the ship he does all this reconnaissance until a prestigious alien sees the reconnaissance device and is immediately alarmed by its un-earthliness. He follows Damon closely who grows increasingly paranoid at Putins constant need to command him to do things. The alien professor approaches Damon and they actually find they have a lot in common. Damon double crosses Putin. Putin finds out and detonates the reconnaissance device which doubled as an IBM. But the device didn’t kill everyone because Damon managed to put his great talent to use and shoved it right back up his ass.
Now the aliens are stranded in the Outback- Australia and they have vowed revenge on the Russian menace Putin.
| 2018-06-06T15:09:44 | 2018-06-06T14:10:50 | 96 | 11 |
[WP]You're a highly dangerous criminal who has been given 200 years in prison. It's been 200 years and you're still alive. The justice system did not foresee this.
​
|
"Dangerous" I say, to the reporter sitting outside the cell,
"is the most subjective word Humanity has ever concocted." He wriggles in his seat, i can see the discomfort as clear as day on his face, as he seems to search deep for the next question. His previous had been,
"After the slaughter of a whole town, why do you believe the courts will let such a dangerous man like you go?"
I smile, and oblige him, before he can ask.
"Of course, that isn't what you asked, I know, I know. I believe they will let me out, because I have served my time faithfully. Why..." I look to the two guards who flanked the reporter, both of their careers at the prison totaled, i would guess, only a quarter of my sentence.
"I have been quite the model prisoner, haven't I?" Neither responds -- none of the guards do -- there hasn't been a good conversation in at least fifty years.
"But."
"But," I cut off the young man, once again. "Such a heinous crime, Such an awful sight -- why, I hear the movie grossed quite the small fortune, didn't it?" He lapses into silence, his recorder going limp, laying on one of his knees as he takes his gaze off me, to my cell. Plain, very plain, except for the well worn bible on the small table by the bed; his eyes settle, as they all do, on what lies just above it.
​
"the painting." I nod, and smile. "It's quite lovely, isn't it?"
"lovely isn't the word I would use, Mr."
"ah-ah." I scoot forward in my seat, and I see the guard's tense, the reporter push himself back, sitting straight up; he's lost focus on the painting, now.
"I prefer in-formalities, amongst my visitors." I smile, and he grimaces; I don't understand if it is the straightness of my smile, or the cleanliness -- perhaps they assume someone so horrible would look more hideous, or have a twitching eye, or a rotten smile; something much more inhuman about them, that they could point to, and nod, and say to each other 'that's the proof, a wicked one, that'.
"How would you describe it, sir."
"well..."
"twelve-oh-fifteen-three" I tap the patch on my orange suit with my number proudly printed, looking to him expectantly.
"twelve... oh fifty three, I would say its... gruesome, barbaric, even. Its.."
"a work of art."
"the work of someone extremely ill."
"OH!" I stand, and even as i turn my back I now the guards have their hands on batons and sprays, not that any of it matters, as they and I both know.
"OH, ILL, but I was, am, and WILL be, in EXCELLENT health, as HE assures it!" I take the painting in my arms, in its simple frame, wretching it from the wall, with the quick wet shrick of the wall tac keeping it there. "look, look upon it," I thrust it to the bars, my fingers running across my strokes. "All from memory, you understand." "of course, but." his voice has dropped, and I can see the tremble of his Adam's apple -- the little tiny bit of that fruit that stuck in the gullet of Man's progenator, and stays, proof of such sin, in his Sons. "memory, dear sir, even in my old age, is quite sharp -- he was my first, you understand."
"MISTER C-"
"LANGUAGE."
It's a deafening silence, my voice echoing through the halls. My breathing is harder than I would like. It takes more than a few moments to calm myself, and i close my eyes as i take little shuddering gulps of the stagnant prison air, hands running through my hair, carefully rearranging the locks until I feel well put together enough to glance again at the man; only to see the guards have stepped in front of him; protectively -- one has even drawn their side-arm. "I apologize." I whisper; a tender moment between me and the reporter. "as a show of good faith... why not say it once, between us. Go on. I won't frighten you." He glances down at the portrait that had clattered to the floor of the cell, and back to me. Gently, slowly, I press my ear to the cell bars, and shut my eyes.
"If it were up to me..." he says quietly, his voice trembling. "You would have already been in the chair." "Mister Cain, whoever the fuck you REALLY are. You deserve to fucking burn. in. hell." I appreciate his backbone, as he hisses that last at me, turning on his heels to leave.
"Tah tah, Sir."
​
As the guards lead him back away, and I stand alone again, I carefully take the portrait I had so rudely dropped, dusting it briefly, before setting it at its rightful place above my bed. My brother and me, in his last moments. He had always been the favorite, until I had done him in. Able had been the first, of course. He was far from the last.
|
They said it was a record. Once I reached 25 years behind the bars I got my first. The parole board rejected me time and time again. It’s not like I expected to get out. 200 years is a hefty sentence. Maybe not for what I did, but hey, it had to be done. Once I got denied the 23rd time I just started telling them to go fuck themselves. Pretty soon they just stopped the hearings all together, they thought I would just eventually rot in the hole they left me in. They were damn wrong about that. To tell you the truth I don’t know how it happened. I’d been in so long. Seen more wardens than the number of rats in my cell, and there’s a lot of those. Something just kept me going, lord knows I didn’t want to. Maybe it was the lack of human contact. A departure from all the filth and disease in the world, but then again there were rats so I guess that’s not it.
The day I got out was the first time I’d seen the other side of those prison walls in 200 years. Hell they weren’t even the same walls that they used to be. Old stone had been replaced by high tech security fences. The unkept grounds of old replaced by grass that seemingly mowed itself. Maybe it did, it had been 200 years, they might have flying cars at this fucking point.
They unlocked my shackles at the front gates. The cloths I came in had long since been forgotten, replaced by a simple black shirt and grey pants. They let me keep my prison issued shoes, how sweet of them.
A guard gave me a handshake, muttered something about being a tough bastard and walked me through the gate. I took a look up at the sky, grey as the day I got here. Luckily I didn’t have to look at it long before a bag was thrown over my head and I was slammed into what I can only assume would be called a car. I didn’t try and struggle. What’s the use. If they had planned to pick me up the second I got out they damn sure were prepared for any resistance.
Back in a room again. This one was much nicer than the last. No rats at least, so already a bonus. I wasn’t cuffed, just put into a room and left there. The metal table a sharp contrast to the dimly lit room.
He came in and ask my name. Stupid fucking question, he obviously knew my name already. I didn’t respond. 200 years of rarely talking will do that. I don’t talk unless I have important shit to say. “Mr Abram, we would like to hear about your experience while incarcerated so that we may better understand your condition.” “My condition, I said?” “Yes Mr Abram. It seems that you have any uncanny ability to not die, and we would like to know why.” “I’m not saying shit else until I speak to him.” I said. “Whoever do you mean Mr Abram?” “Listen fucker, I didn’t wait 200 years for some little prat to fuck around with me. I said. Go get him.”
He walked out of the room quickly and silently. Didn’t say another word. Thank god, talking this much makes me tired. After 10 minutes there was a knock on the door. Five men walked in. None would walk out. The last to enter was an elderly figure, clutching a cane in his hand. He say opposite me, not taking is eyes off of mine the entire time. “So Abram, you’re still here.” “Yes Avery, I’m still here, I said. Surprised?” “Not really, I knew you would be, he said.” “What now, I said.” “That’s up to you Abrams. Would you consider the experiment a success?” “Obviously you fuck, I’m still here am I not? I’m still here talking to you, where we started in the first place.” “Well Mr Abrams, it seems you have fulfilled your terms on the contract. 200 years and the ability to live through it all. All it took was you. My predecessors were skeptical but I knew it would work. I told you, that it would.” “And what now.” I said. “Ah see that leads us to the most unfortunate point mr Abrams. You see, I simply cannot let a specimen as valuable as you free, unlike you the serum has not been as kind to me. So I am afraid...”
The men standing on either side of Avery moved towards me with the trained quickness of killers. Unfortunate for them I had 200 years to hone myself in that hell hole. As they grabbed me I pulled the black pistol out from the guards belt. Heavy and cold. The silencer chirped like the birds I dreamt of while in the hole. Five men entered the room, one was left alive. Sitting at the table with a smile on his face. “You always were good Abrams, that’s why you had to be put away.” “You were going to kill them all and give the serum away so the rich could get richer, profiting off the labors of other.” I said. “ you had to be stopped” “and what will you do now Abrams? Kill me and kill everyone else?” I looked at the men on the floor, and looked back at his black empty eyes. “It’s a start.” I said. The hole that the bullet left in his forehead was akin to his eyes. Black and lifeless.
-PeerlessScarred
| 2018-08-24T20:25:53 | 2018-08-24T19:56:15 | 167 | 69 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING.
|
Being average can be both a curse and a blessing. On one hand, you never really can experience prosperity. I learned this the hard way in highschool when I would wrestle. It never feels good to train your butt off to only come in 5th place in a tournament. After all... No one cares about 5th place. It's only the top three that matter.
Whatever I do, whatever I try I seem to be capable of it. Capable of anything. It truly allows me to explore different areas of life.
I remember when I tried my shot at bodybuilding. After 4 years of training I had a decent physique. Emphasis on decent. Me and a few of my friends started at the same time. 4 years later they look like they are ready to compete in competitions or become models. Meanwhile, I simply look fit. They told my it was my genetics. I knew it was because of my curse.
I'm capable of anything. But I'm not capable of going beyond average. Perfection is a dream to me that I can only loathe.
Art, athletics, studies, popularity. I can only be average. It really takes a toll on you mentally knowing that you can never stand out... You just become background noise.
It led to depression. Which eventually led to drug abuse. I lost my job, family, and interest in life.
I was homeless for 5 years when it happened. I've been living out of my car and taking showers at planet fitness.
Then I saw him.
A young little boy grasped his chest and sat down on the cold granite. I rushed up to him asking if he needed help. He told my he had trouble breathing and that he wasn't feeling good. A crowd gathered, people became worried for him. Then I heard
"DOES ANYONE KNOW CPR"
I've heard of it, but I never tried it. That's when I realize that my curse could actually save this boy's life. I rushed up to him clasp my hands together and start pushing on his chest in a rhytmic pattern. It wasn't the best CPR nor was it the worst. It was average and it got the job done. The ambulance came and commended me. They told me I helped save the boy's life. As they drove off the crowd applauded. I smiled. Maybe being average wasn't so bad. It helped save a life.
Any CPR is good CPR .
|
'How...how is this possibe?'
The supervillain clutched at his broken arm and fell to the floor. He tried his best to back away from the advancing man, but he was spent. His workshop and maniacal contraptions burned around him. So much preparation, so much work. He was so certain his plan was going to work, now it all lay in ruins. All that exquisite planning and years of preparation gone to waste.
He looked upon the man who was about to vanquish him. There was nothing remarkable about him. In fact, he just looked like a balding middle age man. He wasn't even in particularly good shape. He couldn't understand how he was losing.
​
The man continued to advance on him, fists clenched.
​
'How? Who are you? You're a nobody! This...this shouldn't be happening...'
​
The advancing man stopped and knelt down besides the stricken supervillain.
​
'Me? I'm just your average guy, to a fault. Unfortunately for you though, you're a brilliant and talented individual, maybe the most brilliant person on the planet.'
​
The villain couldn't hide his confusion.
​
'I...I don't understand' was all he could muster.
​
'That's the thing about averages.' The man said, cracking his knuckles. 'Major outliers throw the whole system out. And you, my friend, are a major outlier.'
​
The man smiled to himself.
​
'I may seem average to you, I can't compare to your brilliance in some areas... but your mere existence makes me so much more than most. In other words, I have none of your weaknesses.'
​
The villain exhaled, he had no more fight left in him. He supposed that was one of his weaknesses when things weren't going his way. He managed a weak laugh.
​
'It'll be a shame to kill you. I've enjoyed the gifts you've bestowed upon me, but you're just too dangerous to let live'.
​
The man raised his fist and the world went dark.
| 2018-10-24T12:47:09 | 2018-10-24T08:09:35 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] You are eight years old when you fall into a coma. 70 years later, you unexpectedly awaken, a child in an elderly person’s body. Your parents are dead, and your relatives are nowhere to be found. Your only friend is the nurse who has watched over you for the last 30 years of her career.
|
Bristol, 2017
​
Beatrice is telling them I'm asleep. "He will decline to appear on your morning television show, but thank you".
​
London, 1940
​
The howling starts low. The solo rotary siren is joined by another, and then another, blasting out sound waves at 2900 revolutions per minute. The wailing is in unison. It rapidly gets louder, and then it stays that way. Air Raid sirens are designed to deliver a message: get the fuck out of the street and take cover. In an underground tube station, your basement, or if you were lucky, a bomb shelter. "Don't run" the posters said "Others will do the same".
This was fifth one that night and the adults in the room didn't expect the planes to come this time either.
We didn't make it.
They called it the Blitz.
I know this because that night after the Luftwaffe bombed the living hell out of this city, and two years before the RAF bombed the living hell out Hamburg, I was collateral damage. They didn't call it that back then, but when you listen to BBC News for 12 hours a day for 70 years, you stay educated informed and entertained. That's 40 years over the radio, 30 from a television. Placed by my bed while science tried to reconcile the sporadic electrical activity in my brain and the lifeless flesh on the other end of the IV line.
​
Bristol, 2018
​
Beatrice wants her fifteen minutes of fame. After taking care of me for 30 years and then getting married to me, I figure its the least I could do.
​
London 2018
​
"Our viewers want to know, after 70 years in a coma, whats changed the most?"
​
"Back then we were fighting facism. Fascism causes war. And war kills innocent families and puts eight year olds in comas. What's changed ... is that people are forgetting that."
​
|
I'm at the carnival. It's one of my favorite episodes. That's what I call the different places. There are a lot of them. Sometimes they stop and vanish unexpectedly, and then another one begins. I don't know why.
"Come on, Tommy! Race you to the teacups!" a young boy with sandy brown hair and a missing tooth says to me. That's my brother Rick. We do everything together.
I haven't seen my parents in a while, but that's okay, I'll find them soon. We set a meeting place in case Rick and I get lost, but we aren't lost.
The carnival is fun because of the cotton candy, and the spinning tea cups that spin really really fast and stuff. I wish they would go faster.
The carnival. The beach. The playground. I like those ones. Sometimes there are bad ones. I don't like the airport. My brother Rick goes missing in that one, and I can't find him.
But right now I'm at the carnival, waiting in line with Rick for our turn on the spinning ride that looks like tea cups. There's a young girl in a blue dress waving me us in, and a little white rabbit also, and a really funny looking cat, and some old guy with crazy hair and a big hat. I don't know why they are all there, but I don't really care.
"Go ahead, son," the ticket taker says to me as he takes my ticket.
Rick and I rush over to my favorite teacup, one that is green and has a 10/6 on it, but before I reach it there's a flash of white.
The carnival is gone. Faceless people in blue masks are looking down at me. There's strange sounds, beeping, voices.
"Congratulations, Dr. Agarwal," a woman says. "You did it."
I don't know which one is Dr. Agarwal, or what he did, but I want to go back to the carnival. I try to tell them this, but they don't listen.
"Try to calm down Rick - er, Tommy," the man says to me.
"Congratulations, Dr," another man says and pats the man that must be Dr. Agarwal on the back. "First ever transfer of consciousness from one person to another. Incredible!"
| 2018-11-03T11:18:24 | 2018-11-03T11:15:16 | 76 | 24 |
[WP] Your SO loves fun, risky situations like skydiving, while you always liked to play it safe. After a long, happy life together, you're reunited in the afterworld. Everybody has a number for how many times they SHOULD have died throughout their life. Your SO's is 3,300. Yours is 1,450,294.
Edit (1/27): Wow! This idea came to me after another difficult night sleeping. I just woke up and I didn't expect this! Thank you so much, everyone! I'm so excited to read all of your responses! 😁
|
“What in Hell does that mean, ‘should’ have died?” I demanded, staring at the number written on the scroll in divinely-luminous ink.
The angel holding the parchment roll sighed, shaking his? her? head in a glory of radiant locks. “Heaven. What in Heaven does that mean. Please show some gratitude for the grace you have been afforded.”
I looked away, chagrined. “Yeah. Sorry. But still, I don’t understand.”
“Fate is a...complicated thing. For example, all humans were originally intended for the Hell you so casually use an epithet. The original Creator of your particular universe just didn’t like your kind very much.”
“Yeah,” another angel cut in, with a disgusted crinkling of divinely beautiful features. “That guy’s an asshole.”
I frowned, trying to keep the tumult of my thoughts from dissolving into complete chaos. “So...the Gnostics were partially right? The physical world is an evil place created by an evil God?”
“Again, more complicated than that,” the first angel said. “But that’s substantially correct. And He really, REALLY doesn’t like being called ‘evil.’ Which is something you implied in your theological research a great many times. Also sometimes in conversation and in jest. The formula is pretty involved, but that’s how you ended up with so many Divinely ordained deaths.”
“But...I didn’t die.” I turned to look at James, who seemed seriously out of his depth. He’d always been proud of my academic pursuits, but they were never really his thing. Not enough adrenaline involved. “And who’d *he* piss off? I mean, three thousand and change still isn’t nothing, right?”
“Oh,” the second angel said, almost dismissively. “Physics, basically. He was just careless. The newborn God of Extreme Sports took a shine to him.” James just shrugged and smiled the handsome, careless smile I’d both envied and loved most of our lives.
I glanced back and forth between the two angels. “Newborn gods? How does that happen?”
The first answered. “Well, you of all people know how involved theology can be, but deities are more or less born of ideas, and their strength waxes and wanes with the hold these concepts and value systems have on mortal minds.”
“So which one was protecting me?”
The second angel laughed, a rich cascading sound that sent joyous shivers down my metaphysical spine. “Oh, you had a whole squabbling family on your side. Never underestimate the Academic Pantheon.”
​
r/Magleby
|
"And you see, right here? The methane level in your flat was so high that you passed out. You told your mother it was a nap but you actually asphyxiated. Crazy huh!". His black robes shook at hs spoke. The thick hood cast a deep shadow along his skeletal face, leaving only the movement of a gleaming white jaw bone visible. He pushed the button on his pointer, hopping to the next slide.
"And HERE, okay this one was a doozy. You decided you'd get everything organic, right? No pesticides? Dude, those eggs were WEEKS out of date. We've got a team trying to work out how your stomach didn't fall out of your asshole.". The stone cave walls shimmered with the unnatural light emanating from the projector. The far off drips of fluid flowing down stalactites formed an aquatic percussion that gave the skeleton's ramblings a tone of suspense. He pushed the button on his hand one more time and the slide switched over. It was a picture of my mother.
"Okay, the serious stuff.". The skeleton pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. As each joint pivoted, it cracked, forming a crunching sound with every shuffle and twitch. He put both his hands on the table, sighed and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "Your mother used to tuck you in when you stayed back at home, right? Right up until she passed away". I nodded, words failing me as they had since my awakening. "Well dude, she wasn't trying to tuck you in. She was trying to kill you". He pushed the button on his projector and from the screen erupted blues, greens, reds, yellows. They exploded around the room and for a moment, I thought I had lost my mind. Then, as some of the confetti cleared, I realised they were balloons. The skeleton leapt out of his seat with a deafening crack.
"Congratulations! I mean, dude, seriously? She held a pillow over your face for three straight minutes. She had to stop because, and listen because this is \*hilarious\*, her arms got tired. Arms, tired! Those flabby grandma arms just couldn't stop you snoring your way through a twenty year old pillow. AND her reason? You were so God damn boring!!". He threw his ghastly head back and cackled. I looked at the balloons, which were now floating upwards into the stalactites above and bursting, adding a sudden bang to the dripping chorus of the cave.
"Anyway, you're set in for the comfort suite. It's cute, no sharp corners. Just you, your mom and a room full of pillows."
| 2019-01-27T02:22:37 | 2019-01-27T02:18:27 | 184 | 41 |
[WP] You're an Evil Overlord who has ruled over you dominion for ages. Your secret? Social services are well funded, orphanages are places of love, the pediatric wings in hospitals are state of the art. Thanks to this no child has the tragic backstory necessary to become the hero that defeats you.
|
The upside of being evil, is that one's instincts are immune to surprise. After all, the world loves its heroes; and a good hero can come from anywhere.
As I sit on my throne, my eyes are fixed firmly upon the congregation of 30-odd men and women that have barged into the room. Dressed in full plate armour, they carry swords, shields, axes and maces of every imaginable size. It becomes evident from the blood on their weapons that the outer palace guard, made up of legions of my most battle-hardened veterans, have been slain.
"This is where it ends," says a man in shining golden breastplate, his sword glinting with bloodlust in his hands. "There's no one left to save you."
I smile, and clap my hands together.
The door behind the throne bursts open. Out of it emerges my last line of defence; a defence mechanism unknown to anyone except me. The assassins gape in horror as a crowd of nearly 300 makes a barricade between them and myself.
"Do you know what is the greatest, most compelling power in this universe?" I ask, smirking in the midst of their disbelief. "These are my soldiers. The children that time forgot; the ones that were abandoned and left to rot. The birds with broken wings left on the ground as an offering for mercy. Who better than them to understand the fine margins between life and death?"
I rise from my throne and smile even wider. "If you wish to kill me, you will have to plough your way through hundreds of innocent children- beggars, orphans and even ones with special needs. If you do so, the world will hear of your deeds. And then you will become bigger tyrants than I could ever be. The realm will never forgive you."
My laugh rings out clear and defiant through the stunned masses. "Do you know the greatest, most compelling power in the universe?" I ask again, pausing for effect.
*Gratitude,* I sneer.
r/whiteshadowthebook
|
Another festival thrown in my honour. “I’m so evil they even praise me as a hero! My how I have fooled these peasants.” I made my way down to the town. My castle on the hill, looming, casting deep shadows over the next door valley. “Haha no one can ever enjoy that valley, how wonderful to be evil!” My long robes flowing behind me as children run up to me. Scrawny little things I think to myself, yet they cheer and shout for me. So young and unknowing. They do not realise how evil I am. They hold my robe as I walk over the dirt. Such wonderful young people. Taught well in those orphanages I founded. None of them will ever want to defeat me.”
I reached the centre of town. A small stage was set up. The adults of the town ushered me on to the stage. Asking for a speech. Now to fool these peasants even more! “I am so grateful to rule your land! I hope to see all your children grow up well!”
With that I left the stage. Parading around the town, collecting late taxes. They deserve extra time if needed I’m not THAT evil. Picking flowers from people’s gardens. Haha it took them so long to grow these. The children and adults waving me off from town at sunset. Such fools, how easy they are to rule and bend to my will.
I returned to my castle happy with my day of evil. Setting up the flowers in a vase only I could enjoy. Haha such foolish citizens not realising how evil I am.
Edit: added part! The last ruler was even more evil. Treating everyone horribly binding them in chains, no food, stealing all their money. Such a fool. Obviously one day a rebellion would rise. That rebellion was me. Neither of my parents died but they weren’t in a great position. So I overthrew him and took over as evil ruler with a few changes. Giving everyone a quality of life they so threw wouldn’t overthrow me. I’m so evil. I know.
r/DougysDramatics
| 2019-05-27T06:14:09 | 2019-05-27T04:07:32 | 374 | 248 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it
|
Across a thousand worlds our form inspires fear, as is only right at the sight of perfect apex predators , naturally triggering terror in the lesser prey of the galaxy.
Teeth like knives, skin like scaled armor, claws that can rend flesh to the bone. We are majestic.
The species of most worlds bow down upon our arrival, their own instincts informing them that they have no chance to survive.
With bases across the galaxy our military might is unrivaled and the populations of countless worlds offer sacrifices of their own people to sate our appetites.
Encountering a new world we identify radio traffic from a sentient species. From their broadcasts we decipher images of their form. They look *pink*, unarmored, *delicious*.
We identify a smaller continent with a pleasing climate and only moderately populated by the native dominant species. It will make an ideal site from which to start the invasion.
As the cloaked ship settles to the ground our first wave of the elite scouts, some of the finest soldiers of the empire filter down the ramps and into the undergrowth. Their job: to collect samples of the natives for study and... *lunch* .
Live feeds from the retinal implants of the scouts cover one wall of the bridge.
A scout is sliding through the water, approaching 2 of the pink-fleshed natives in a flimsy craft...
Finally one of them sees it's doom, it bears it's teeth in what must be some kind of fight or flight reflex and bellows something. The sound is fed into the translation matrix.
But suddenly something unexpected, rather than fleeing or staying frozen the native leaps upon the scout, wrapping it's pink fleshy arms around him.
It bellows more of the natives strange honking language.
The fight is intense, he rolls in the water trying to drown the native but it clings on and starts wrapping something around his jaws and legs.
From the other side of the room the translation matrix finally starts interpreting the native's shouts.
"Crikey mate! you're a big beaut!"
On the screen our soldier is unceremoniously hauled into a wooden craft, wrapped in netting.
We see that the other native is holding some kind of lensed apparatus, possible some kind of weapon?
The first has turned to it and is talking again.
"Now before we move it to a new habitat, we need to check if this is a boy or a girl, [I think Pat should be the one to do the sexing](https://www.themorningbulletin.com.au/news/i-had-the-gloves-the-alligator-had-the-cloaca/1848624/), now crocs have what's called a cloaca and..."
As the native on the screen pulls on gloves the bridge crew freeze into a rictus of horror
|
The following transcription was recorded on July 27th, 2672 at approximately 11:43PM before Admiral Alabaster led the suicide charge in sector X34 against the still unidentified invading ship that entered our orbit approximately one week prior.
All lives were lost.
----
>I want to make something very clear to you all, right now.
>I am afraid.
>Yes, you heard me right. I won't lie and pretend that I am not terrified, that there is no terrible pressure weighing on my mind and chest, like I'm drowning on dry land. Right now, before my very eyes, I am watching my wife burn as if she's here with me. I smell her charred flesh, my head echoes with her screams, but I know it is a lie. I know she has already been taken from me.
>We still don't fully understand them, but it's abundantly clear that they find joy in terror. The panic epidemics, the mass suicides. . . that ship, right over there, is the cause. I guarantee it.
>So, what do we do? There are enough explosives on board to turn Venus into a new ring for Saturn, but our armaments are down, and we cannot attack at range. We hardly have enough fuel to get back home if we chart the best course, which will be impossible since it requires so much maneuvering just to dodge their particle cannons.
>What do we do, then?
>I will tell you.
>Burn.
>Burn bright against the quiet night.
>Burn bright and dispel the shadows which hide within, lurking in the unseen. Like hydrogen, like helium, we are but fuel; a catalyst that rages in the heart of the most magnificent star this universe will ever know.
>Dying is what we do. All things come to an end, so that the new may follow.
>Do you hear me, my men, my blood, my heart? All things must come to an end. So on this hallowed day, let us not end alone.
>March into the heart of darkness with me, and together, let us silence its beating with a glow that will be, for just an instant, the single brightest spot marring the dark of space.
>All things must come to an end-- the difference between us and them is that we're prepared for it.
>And as they strike terror in our hearts, we too will strike it in theirs. Let us show them a fear more real than anything they can conjure in our minds.
---
Because of that crew's efforts, not only was the invasion repelled, but suspicions were confirmed when all nightmares, widespread depression, panic, and mania ceased upon their retreat. It is because of them that our visitors learned that fear is not an effective weapon against those that have learned to brave the dark.
---
*/r/resonatingfury*
| 2019-06-11T07:56:44 | 2019-06-11T06:04:46 | 4,721 | 1,817 |
[WP] You are an immortal that got sentenced to permanent burial over 1000 years ago. Today a team of archaeologists just dug you up.
|
I high fived the archaeologist that dug up and opened my coffin. She was looking at me with a mouth open so wide it looked like she was having a hard time breathing.
"I've been there, girl. I ran out of oxygen nine hundred and ninety nine years, three hundred and sixty four day, and sixteen hours ago."
She screamed so loud that it felt like someone was stabbing my eardrum.
"Whoa hey I'm sorry. Do people not high five anymore? That was big when I went under."
More screams came from all around me. I looked past the girl to see a team of what appeared to be experts scrambling up out of the dig site and running as fast as they could away from me.
"Well, I've made worse entrances," I said to myself. Everyone else was driving away now.
Except their engines didn't sound right and the designs of the cars were very different from what I remembered. Suddenly one shot up into the sky and zoomed through the air. Getting as far from me as possible.
"Hell yeah! There's flying cars now? Man this future is gonna be awesome!"
I walked over to a pickaxe that had been dropped in the fleeing and held it in my hands. Its wooden handle was rough, and so very different. So very strange.
I looked back at the coffin I was trapped inside of.
Smooth black stone. Strange, I had forgotten its color so long ago. Right inside of it was the watch they had put in with me so i could always know just how long I had missed. Amazing technology to have run this long.
I smashed it with the pickaxe. The stupid little piece of metal and leather broke with the most satisfying, most beautiful, most harmonious sound I'd have ever heard in my life.
And the sound of the pickaxe breaking apart that damn stone coffin? Why I felt like a monkey in a banana farm.
After a good long hour or so of destruction i threw the pickaxe down and marveled at my strength.
I knew i was immortal but to have lied still for a thousand years with the slightest atrophy? My goodness Dr. Havershem was amazing. But she'd probably be dead by now. Unless she had managed to use the God-serum on herself before the catholic church stopped us.
"Well," I said to myself and the broken rocks, "only one way to find out."
And so I walked, wondering where the hell I would find any information on the old doc.
|
**Professor!**
Yes, what is it, my student?
**I think I found something, but I can't quite tell what it is.**
Well, let's have a look here... Oh, my. This... this is interesting. Do you see these markings?
**Those odd squiggles?**
Yes. It's a language that has been dead for quite some time, but if I'm reading this correctly, what we have here is a tomb for an immortal being.
**Why would an immortal have a tomb?**
I don't know. Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?
**Huh?**
Because his wife died.
**That doesn't make any sense.**
Said the guy who couldn't read these obvious squiggles.
**You've studied this stuff for forty years! I've been here a week and a half. How am I supposed to read a thousand year old language?**
Beats me. Anyhow, there's a plot twist, so brace yourself, Skippy--
**My name is Mark.**
Your name is not important. But this is... this immortal being has been sentenced to a permanent burial. That means we can't dig him up. We're basically looking at a *Raiders Of The Lost Ark* situation if we do.
**Oh.**
But.
**Oh?**
*Raiders Of The Lost Ark* made a lot of money.
**Oh!**
All right! Now you go away so I can get all the credit and the money.
**Oh...**
God, I hated that kid. I thought he'd never leave. Anyhow, it's time to meet the immortal. (opens coffin) Greetings oh wise one.
*Me? I'm immortal, not smart. Call me Mark.*
Another Mark?
*It's a common name, even a thousand years ago.*
I don't think that's true.
*You're gonna question the guy who was alive back then? Me? Mark?*
I've studied your people for years.
*I guess that makes you some kind of expert.*
Well... yes. That's what I went to school for.
*Trust me. Lots of guys named Mark all the way back in 2019.*
Yes, the future is now.
*Do we have flying cars yet?*
No.
*A cure for cancer?*
No.
*Sex robots?*
I mean... kind of?
*How so?*
They're just a microwave oven with a hole cut in the side.
*Can you rebury me?*
With pleasure!
**END SCENE**
| 2019-10-25T23:42:25 | 2019-10-25T22:56:40 | 285 | 93 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one.
|
It starts with a family.
And a warning.
“Be wary” the oracle screams, swaying with the steam cascading from the vents of the cave.
“One of your children will bring evils to the nation of the likes we would never see, and one will bring it to heights we can only wish for. Use this warning wisely!”
The parents to-be shook in fear, but the priests gathered for the ritual nodded their heads sagely. The pure child would bring their nation to greatness, just as was foretold. The evil child could be disposed of. When the twins were born, the entire country seemed to gather outside of the birthing chamber. The priests in attendance lit their incense and sent their prayers to the heavens. And thus, two children were brought into this world. It seemed to the priests obvious which child would bring calamity, and which would bring prosperity. With their third eye, they could see the boy had the countenance of evil: dark shadowy wings pooling below him, and horns poking distastefully through his forehead. The girl shined with inner radiance, wings like light folded softly around her and a softly glowing halo.
So, heeding the oracles warning, they left the boy on a far mountain as an offering of understanding to the gods, who had put prosperity within their reach. The naming ceremony was that night was a grand affair, the capital lit up with all manner of celebration. Wine and drink flowed freely, and the nation talked of their savior. However, on a mountain far away, another naming took place. A small clan of goatherds celebrated their new addition by the light of a smokey fire.
And so, with celebration in the air, two screaming, swaddled children gained their names that night: Clio.
When Clio was three, she learned what it meant to be loved. She had always known she had it. People told her, after all. They told her when she passed them on the street and in the halls. Told her they loved her, for she was their savior.
“Mama, do you love me?” She asked one night, when all the people had gone away from giving her things. Her mama didn’t respond, she had drunk all the wine that people had left as offerings and was snoring on the dias.
“Daddy, do you love me?” She asked the second night. She asked it to the empty room where her Daddy was supposed to be, but he was away talking to important people.
On the third night, she went into her room and looked at all her things, given to her by people who said they loved her.
“They love me” She said to herself, quietly.
When Clio was three, he learned what it meant to be loved. Some of the other boys had pushed him, saying that his parents didn’t love him. That they had left him on a mountain to die.
“Mama, do you love me?” He asked one night as his mama tucked him into bed.
“Of course I love you, you are my child.” She said. Then she kissed him on the head.
“Daddy, do you love me?” He asked the second night. “Of course, you’re my son.” The old goatherd responded gruffly. Then he continued showing his son how to start a fire.
On the third night, he asked his brothers and sisters “Do you love me?”
“Of course” they responded. “Those boys were mean and dumb, and they’ll never say that again.”
Clio smiled. “They love me.” he said to himself, quietly.
When Clio was nine, she learned what consequences were.
“It is nothing.” Said the priest, sweeping away the shards of broken vase. “Should you do it, it is meant to be.”
“Ok” said Clio.
When she snuck out that night to go look at the river, a kitten came up to her and purred. Surprised, she looked at it. It was dirty and skinny, but perhaps Clio could pet it. She tried to grab it up and hold it, but it scratched her. Outraged, she threw it into the river.
But it was fine.
After all, what she did was meant to be.
When Clio was nine, he learned what consequences were.
“You ripped the basket, Clio. Now you must make a new one.” Said his mother, sweeping away the broken sticks. “Go get more twigs, I will show you how it's done.”
That day he and his friends ventured into the woods to hunt. He shot and killed a fox, but later found its crying kit. Guilty, he attempted to scoop the kit up, but it bit him. Shocked, he drew his hand back. Then he reached into his pocket and offered it a bit of jerky instead. The kit took it, and let Clio carry him home. It died three days later without its mother’s milk.
It wasn’t fine, and Clio cried.
When Clio was fifteen, she learned what it was to be powerful. A man, married, had spurned her advances. She had wanted him, wanted him to hold her and to love her. And he had said no. And so, she told her priests to bring him his head on a plate, for he had hurt her. Their savior.
They did.
She smiled.
When Clio was fifteen, he learned what it meant to be powerful. His father groaned as he levered the rock up off of the trapped goat, and Clio scrambled to grab it from under the heavy weight. His father dropped the rock, panting heavily.
Exhausted and grateful, the goat dropped his head against Clio’s shoulder.
Clio and his father smiled.
When Clio was twenty-one, she learned how to lead.
The crowd was deafening, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth. And she would lead them, bringing them to greatness while dancing on the corpses of those who got in their way.
When Clio was twenty-one, he learned how to lead.
“I’ll go.” He volunteered. The clan meeting went silent, having been discussing their warmongering neighbors to the east. “I will find out what is happening in the city. I will find out if we are in danger”.
Four of his friends immediately volunteered to follow him.
When Clio was twenty two, she learned she loved sacrifice. Specifically, those her people made to her of their enemies.
When Clio was twenty two, his family was the sacrifice.
When Clio was twenty three, she put down her first rebellion.
Clio is twenty three when he leads his first.
When Clio is twenty four, she learns the value of loyalty.
“Where do you think you are going, you cowards! They’re just rebels, we’ll kill them.” She screams as her priests flee. They don’t even grace her with a reply
When Clio is twenty four, he reaps loyalty’s rewards.
“Will you stand with me?” He asks his star general, best friend, his brother in arms.
“There was never a question” Comes the reply.
And so, it starts as it ends. With a family. Two siblings fight each other on the battlefield. The smoke gives the illusion of dark wings, like an angel of death, to both as they clash. The light halos them, diffuse through the smoke.
Clio dies, and the blood pools around them like dark wings.
Clio lives, shrouded in the light like a sign of victory.
|
There are two strange things about prophecies, that everyone seems to so very easily forget.
The first; That every prophecy glimpses upon the future, and in doing so, speaks of a world where that 'future' already exists.
The second: That prophecies are, nearly always, self-fulfilling.
​
"The child born of the serpent's line shall become the darkness that shall devour the sun."
​
You fools hear those words, and turn all of your fear upon a child. All of your fear becomes malice, and teaches he who would nurse garters back to health, who found fascination in the forests, how to *hate.*
He who would have loved the bubbling brews of medicine and remedy finds refuge in poisons instead.
He who would bandage the wings of birds, takes company in vipers who know the paranoia of those who are both prey and predator.
You fools hear the words of prophecy, and forge your own downfall with the darkness in your *own* hearts.
​
And so we come to me.
​
We have spoken of the second rule of prophecies, so now let us return to the first.
To know and speak a prophecy aloud, is to catch a glimpse of a world where that future has already come to pass.
​
*A* world, yes.
There are many.
Countless as the stars above, each a single leaf upon a tree that grows from a single seed. That seed sprouts with time, and a new branch is born upon every decision made, no matter how small.
​
My clan is that of the Timeless. We who are born and renewed in world after world, and never forgetting that which we have learned.
Not quite immortal, no, but... Close.
Close enough.
​
"The child born of the serpent's line shall become the darkness that shall devour the sun."
I have seen this come to pass. The world, the life I lived before this, drowned in blood beneath the half-light of an eternal eclipse. I had lived a life of a civilian scholar, adhering perfectly to the rules of my clan- Watching over and teaching, but never interfering.
​
And what, I ask, did that get us in the end?
​
"Interference is the very mistake the mortals make! No, we are not meant to act. We are Timeless. We are not meant to love those of the sand. Your heart may bleed, child, but do not get attached. All shall pass, and there is nothing to be done for those who will not listen."
...Perhaps we are in agreement then, for I think I am quite *done* with Elders who will not hear that they are not, in fact, infallible.
​
We are not *gods* to presume over the worlds we are born into. Watching and waiting and speaking words of wisdom only goes so far when fools are so quick to take action.
​
Enough.
*Enough.*
I shall act.
And I shall teach.
​
To the serpent's child, wounded but not yet broken, I shall go.
And I shall give him that which the world will *not.*
Open arms, open mind, and a friend.
​
I shall allow myself to become attached, no matter the wounds it will inevitably inflict upon me, for how else will I teach those who are loathed to love?
How else will they know the warmth and joy that life can bring if I do not first open my heart and light the way?
The serpent becomes the darkness because you refused him light. *(So I shall give you mine.)*
​
A child who knows not the love of its village will burn it down to feel its warmth.
​
And so we have come around to the beginning again.
Words of prophecy ring in the air, spoken with weary weight by a man who's eyes are filled with grief.
Orochi's eyes narrow with derision, silver scales glinting in the candle light as he turns to meet my gaze. Pride and love swell in my heart in equal measure as I see the decision in his eyes- Righteous anger and determination fueling a fire that shall bring warmth to another.
(In a world previous, that fire blazed with grief and hatred- And fueled a madness that would drown even the sun.)
​
I stay seated even as he rises, playing the obedient and subservient wife. (An act that never fails to make him laugh once the time comes for the masks to finally drop. A greater lie could not be spoken than that I am meek and submissive.)
​
He speaks to the man in quiet, wheedling tones, a gentle and cold charisma that so easily bends those to his will. It doesn't take long at all for the whole story to come out.
A prophecy of two children- Twins, one destined to be a good and great hero; the other to be an evil and wicked blight. The glass cracks beneath my hand, and I repair it with a silent spell before my temper is noticed by any but the attentive golden gaze of my husband.
Two years ago the man's wife gave birth to twins, and they knew they were the ones the prophecy spoke of. A girl with angel's wings and a brilliant halo, and a boy with devil's wings and horn. The man's voice chokes as he admits that even though the choice was obvious, he couldn't bring himself to kill the boy. He'd been tending to him in secret in a locked cabin not too far away.
​
But the town had heard. They had found him out, and in the morning were going to go and burn the cabin down. Their fear of facing a devil in the dark of night was the only thing that stayed their hand until then.
​
The man admits in a choked voice that while he knew it was probably for the best, that it was surely the only way to ensure their safety... he still considered the boy his son. He could do nothing to save him. Could do nothing to stop them. So he would sit here and drown his grief, hopeless and helpless.
​
"You could give him to us."
​
The man's head snaps up, eyes wide and wild with a desperate hope. Looks between us, a medicine woman and her adventurer husband, well known and respected in the area, and swallows.
Nods.
Holds out a brass key on a thick chain, and it disappears up Orochi's sleeve as quick as the serpent sleeping in the other.
​
"I am a fool," the man whispers into his drink, and I shake my head, and tell him of Fenrir, of a sun devouring serpent, and the choice we all make upon hearing the words of prophecy. When we turn away, there is a strength there in the set of his jaw that was not there before.
(A starving wolf and a gentle man brought to anger are both things you should never turn your back on.)
​
We disappear into the night, just another pair of travelers to the rest of the village- And cheerfully lament to each other the lost chance of a warm bed this week.
​
A child who knows not the love of its village will burn it down to feel its warmth.
But there is room at our hearth for one more, room for children's toys amongst bottles of remedies and drying herbs.
​
We have chosen to act, to not just teach but to fight and love and *live.*
And that is the lesson I shall bring to you as well, little one.
| 2020-05-07T13:27:35 | 2020-05-07T12:22:22 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You've just arrested a woman and are dragging her away from a bleeding corpse. "It's not my fault, the voices made me do it!", she yells. "Release her", you hear menacingly from somewhere within yourself, "or you shall become our new vessel."
|
"Will you leave her alone then? Will I then be your only vessel?"
"Yes, of course, why..."
"Then please do come in and make yourselves at home."
"What?!"
"Come in and stay in if you can. Can you? Maybe you can't? I don't have schizophrenia. Or any other mental illness. I am perfectly mentally and physically healthy, at least according to the checkup I had only a week ago."
"Why would you *want* us?"
"I am curious. About how it feels to hear voices, especially menacing voices. You see, I don't have schizophrenia, but I have a quite good friend who does, and I have been wondering what it is like for him when he is unwell, when his meds need adjusting."
"We don't understand."
"Can you please keep quiet while I drive her to the hospital? Then I will explain later."
"We never keep quiet. We want to kill. Kill her!"
"I won't kill her."
"We order you to kill her!"
"You aren't my boss. And I wouldn't listen to such order even from him."
"Your self-control is strong. But we will break through!"
"Good luck!"
"What?! You are trying to tune us out? We will never shut up!"
"Then don't. Seems I don't really mind having this mental conversation. It's quite interesting. Would you mind telling me more about yourselves? For example, why do you refer to yourselves in plural?"
|
I rolled my eyes and kept dragging the woman towards my cruiser.
“Very well human, your body is now ou- WTF?!?!”
I snigger as I open my cruisers door, just waiting for the show to truly begin. Should be any second now.
“You dare take what is already taken? Fools!”
“How is this possible? Who are you?!”
“We are this being, you are not a part of us, begone before we assimilate you for energy!”
I successfully place the cuffed woman into my cruiser, and close the door.
I look back at what’s left of the body I pulled her away from, trying to decide who I should call in first.
“I refuse to believe you can assimilate US, we have been through several star systems and conquered all!”
“Dude, don’t fuck with Shadow, he’s not joking.” Another voice sounded from my left.
“Star systems are small compared to the cosmos little one. Listen to Coyote, he speaks the truth.” This time from the right.
I close my eyes and feel the air around me, and identify an aura over the victims body.
“Shadow, just eat him and let’s go, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do.” Laughter flows from behind me as my neck began to tingle, the aura over the victim shrank as it moved towards me, screaming all the while before dissipating into pure energy and flowing into my head between my eye-brows.
| 2020-07-09T12:26:51 | 2020-07-09T09:48:21 | 152 | 86 |
[WP] Outside of your hometown you are known as an untouchable monster, someone who will never let any superheroes or villains come near his territory. The whole world fears you, but the smiles and support of the townsfolk as they thank you for keeping peace makes it all worth it.
|
There's something I read once. What is honorable is what maintains the status quo.
In the age of muscle-powered warfare, the wealthy and politically powerful were also the ones who could afford enough food to be physically powerful and enough time to be skilled in the art of combat. And so it was dishonorable for something that any peasant could do to level the playing field: Poison. A peasant had no chance when fighting a baron hand-to-hand, but poisoning his soup? Even the most malnourished and abused serf could manage that. So trial by combat is honorable while poison is not.
After the advent of industrialized warfare, the powerful had armies but a lone individual had the capability of killing them from a warehouse window 200 yards away and ultimately there's little to be done to stop them. So killing each other with armies is honorable while assassins are not.
And so it is in with the rise of superhumans. Destructive brawls between individuals maintain the status quo of the powerful. So that is honorable.
I have no honor. Instead I have a family I care for, neighbors I care for. A home, a community. Assassination, poison, threatening and killing the family of those who threaten me and mine - nothing is off the table. I do what I must, but I do not have the strength to be honorable. I am not the status quo.
Heros and villains alike call me a monster. Governments and press alike condemn me.
But you know who doesn't? Aunt Jasmine who lost her husband to collateral damage from a titanic brawl, and then lost the only pictures she had of her beloved dead husband to another brawl less than a year later between the same hero and villain. She knows they are both now safely dead, she won't lose any more to them.
Jacob won't have yet another insurance claim denied for "force majeure" throwing his business onto the edge of bankruptcy because some lunatic decided to raise a volcano in the middle of his car lot.
Henry won't lose another child to a remote controlled tornado.
Elva won't wake up from another 3 month coma to find her entire life was destroyed.
If I must be dishonorable to protect my family and community, then so be it. What good is honor when the status quo doesn't protect us?
|
The outside world is a scarier place, but I’m scarier.
Almost a century ago, the radiation started to kick in. As soon as it was discovered that this would in fact not kill us, the world rejoiced and realized that it was changing people. At first we were all scared. That is, until heroes started popping up. Suddenly, there was no reason to fear because there were people always looking out for us. Of course, there would always be those who combated them, but no one really seemed to mind since they were soon taken care of.
When I was in my early twenties, the radiation got to me too. After noticing the symptoms, I was happy. I was as simple minded as to believe in heroes myself. When I noticed how I was changing, I broke down. What was once thought to be strength came with it this ugly green color. What was once thought to be super vision came with it these horrendous eyes with an animal quality to them. I was horrified.
I had to drop out of college, and head back to my home. I was petrified to let my parents see me like this, but I had little choice. Along the way, those who saw me told me thought that I was a villain, but I still kept moving on.
When I got home, I found my house in ruins. After some digging, it was discovered that they were just collateral against a battle. Their killers unknown.
I don’t know where this rage inside of me came from, but I had an animal instinct to not let this happen to anyone else. At first, I acted sort of like a vigilante, working in the shadows. Rumors of this mysterious beast spread, and both the heroes and the villains came looking for me. I took care of them. I have dedicated myself to taking care of this village.
“Oh hello dear!” Mrs. Wilkins calls to me from across the street. I hold up my alien hand and give a snarl like grin back.
I guess that I forgot to mention, I’m now seen as the sole hero for my town of Steelheart. At first it was hard, especially with everyone outside being afraid of me, but everyone is grateful here. I suppose that we are all just sick of both the heroes and the villains. Now, this village is our own little safe haven, and I won’t let anyone attack it. Anyone who wants to get into my territory will have to go through me first, and that’s what’s saved us all.
| 2020-10-01T11:20:18 | 2020-10-01T07:52:15 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You are a warrior pledged to protect a chosen priestess on her quest to quell a great evil. What she finds at the end of her journey is not a dark god or towering beast. She now stands before an altar of sacrifice. You knew the truth the whole time, you just couldn't bear to tell her.
|
She has such strange eyes, this priestess. It's a sort of hazy light blue, as if diluted by clouds. And they hold a trust that burns me. Burns me to the bones, and I am glad that I wear armor. Glad that I have a helmet. A visor to hide behind should I want to.
I am not a cruel man. I am only doing what's best for this land teetering on the jaws of an ancient evil. I have a family. I have a life. There were days when I woke to birdsong in the morning, the sunlight shining through the curtains to land on my wife's serene sleeping face, on which I'd plant a kiss. Before noticing a weight on my leg and finding my young son hugging it, having sneaked in the night before. I can't bear the thought of jaws on those moments. I dont let myself imagine what would happen if hellbeasts reached my house. My city.
I am not a cruel man.
I was summoned by duty and honor. An order from the king, when news came of another far-off land razed through by hellbeast hordes. Far-off, but closer than the last.
We've ridden through lands strange and wild. Through forests with savage animals larger than our horses. Through desolate wastes with bizarre poisonous plants and not a lick of water for leagues in any direction. Through hilly lands with unexpected chasms and belligerent rivers and small creatures hiding behind and under boulders, quicker than vipers in taking your eyes.
I have saved the priestess a few times throughout this journey. That's what I am here for. To escort her to the ancient mystical landmark where she can exorcise the evil from this kingdom. But I cannot bear those eyes as they look at me with relief and joy and trust everytime I save her from a danger. When I cut in half a creature jumping at her from the dark or pull her back from an edge she was heading into, or kill a stray hellbeast lured by her scent, offensive and delectable at the same time to these damned creatures. The gratitude in her eyes undoes me. Sometimes I smile awkwardly back at her, sometimes say a calming word. But I usually turn away before long, cleaning my sword or revisiting the map I've almost memorized. Our destination lies to the far north-west, close to where the hellbeasts first appeared from, but farther away from the procession of their hordes, in a place where there's now nothing but briars and dried up trees.
She talks of life with such joy. When we sit around a fire at night, sometimes she talks about the wonderful things we've seen on our way. The exotic flowers, the great trees, a harmless, curious animal who came close to inspect her, and even let her touch it. She talks to me about her life back in the village where she was born, her little sisters who were envious of her becoming a priestess who could live in the city's temple, her proud old mother who never said a word in her praise but sent her off with tears in her eyes and a rare smile. I dont know why she tells me this. She has no reason to tell such things to her guard, but she does. She tells me stories like Im a friend. And sometimes I forgot myself and laughed along with her as she told tales from her childhood, her days in the temple training to become a priest. Sometimes I forget.
Our destination reveals itself in the shape of a ruin, an intricate building of stone, now eroded away and broken with time. It looks dead and reeks of age. The day is overcast and gray and dark, and the sky matches the ruin. The priestess takes a deep breath beside me, clutching her staff. I stare blankly forward as I tie our horses to a gnarled tree some way off.
"You can do this. It's what you've trained for, right?" I try to encourage her, and in the process feel greater hate for myself than any other time in my life.
She smiles up at me, the brightest thing on this day and in this place, with her white robe and her eyes. "Thank you," she says. "Hey, when this is over at least you can stop keeping guard for hellbeasts on the journey back!" and she laughs, her voice a little shaky. Oh my gods, the journey back.
I know where we have to go. I have the map of the ruins the royal scribe drew me before we set out.
It's a grand oval chamber in the belly of the ruined temple, with old carvings and statues and ring steps that lead down into a basin with strange marks carved into the ground shaped like paths leading into each other. An altar stands at the center.
The priestess stands before the center, holding her staff high. She casts one last look at me, hesitant smile on her lips before her face goes calm and focused. She chants words with strange reverberations and her staff points to the columns of the room, binding it in her circle. Her hand forms bright shapes in the air and her staff burns them into the walls and the ground, working their way inward. The cracks and edges of the room leak shadows that slowly take form, the resident evil rising to silence the disturbance. I move in with my sword, enchanted by the arch priest, and banish the shadows from her.
And then comes the moment. All the symbols etched into the stone, the whole circle glows in light, the shadow creatures vanished. And silence takes over the room.
The priestess holds her staff tightly, waiting. She was told the magic would draw out the devil who had unleashed the hellbeasts, their lord. The devil she had to purge. Nothing comes out. No grand evil with horns and sharp teeth and curved claws. There is only me.
She turns towards me, confused and fearful. "What's going on? Why isnt anything happening? Did I do it wrong? What if I've made a mista-" her words die in her throat as I cut it.
I had intended to keep my helmet on, my visor down, to spare myself her look into my eyes. To only see a figure fall and know an entire kingdom was saved. But she doesn't deserve to go staring at an emotionless piece of metal in this deep damp tomb underground. And I don't deserve to be spared the full weight of what I have done.
Her eyes. They are wide from fear and pain, and they stare directly into my eyes as everything registers for her.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I hold her in my arms as she falls, tears streaming from my eyes. She is coughing up blood in her struggle to breathe. Her white robe quickly turns red, the stain spreading down from her collar.
I wish I didnt have to cut her throat to kill her. She deserves a last word. But the instructions of the ritual were clear.
"I'm not- I had to. Please. I'm sorry." I have trouble breathing. Ridiculous in the face of what she is going through.
She raises a hand to my face. I expect her to gouge out an eye in revenge, I almost wish it. But she only touches my cheek gently and tries her best through the tears and blood and coughing to form a smile. Her eyes are still full of fear and pain, but she is still trying.
I wish I had to die instead of her. I wish my life was worth hers. Was worth anything. Her hand falls away, and I watch her eyes go dim. Her blood fills the carvings, finally touching the light of the magic circle, that drinks it thirstily. The ground starts shaking, the sign of the change going through the land, but I don't care. I only sit and rock the lifeless body in my arms and weep and weep. The killer who has exchanged one life for many.
|
Daleline moved slowly towards the altar. I could see her shaking slightly. It wasn’t the weather or the warm breeze that caused her to shake. Her energy had been growing since we left the high castle. With each step she had grown in her own abilities from the meek young woman that had left the throne room to a confident woman who had easily dealt with the trials we had experienced to get to this point.
Her first real test had been in the tavern outside Eastwood. I had left her to secure rooms from the tavern master when alone she was confronted by several local men spying a well dressed young woman alone. I paused at the bar keeping an eye from a distance while the tavern master bumbled about price and lack of rooms.
It was only when one of the ruffians tried to grab the ornate her necklace that she reacted. She stood calling my name. His hands barely missing the necklace and knocking over the tankard I had left. One of the men closed on her to stop her running and the tavern continued as normal. But when he grabbed her shoulders she had fixed him with a stare that caused the world around him to melt away. He froze. “Let me go” she commanded frost tipping to words. The other men closed as well misreading the situation. I rested my hand on the hilt of my sword anticipating the worst. “I SAID LET ME GO” her voice chilling the room. The tavern stopped and eager faces spun to her direction expecting trouble. The men paused but just for a moment before pawing at her jewellery and the coin purse at her hip.
I shifted my weight to leap toward her but the men suddenly fell backwards. Propelled by an unseen force. They picked themselves up quickly. One drew his dagger murder in his eyes. I took two steps and gripped his hand cruelly. “And what do you think you’ll do with this” I asked twisting his hand so the dagger fell from his grasp. The sight of a suddenly close large warrior making the group disappear as quickly as they had materialised. I returned to the tavern master and finished the transaction. Daleline was angry when I returned to the table.
“How could you leave me like that?” She was close to tears.
“You seemed to handle that well enough” I retorted picking up the tankard and raising it towards the bar.
“Well enough?! I could have been killed” she exclaimed.
“You weren’t though” I said matter of factly.
“And what was I to do against three ruffians?”
I let the question hang in the air. Patrons had begun moving themselves away from our table and the barmaid was hesitant in coming over to fill my drink. I slammed the tankard on the table twice and pointed to it which brought the barmaid over.
“We have a room. We will have to share” I said as if nothing had happened. “Eat your meal and drink your mead. Or don’t I don’t care but I’m hungry and the road has left me with a great thirst that I intend to quell” I attended to my drink.
“You are a monstrous man” she stated still shaken by what had occurred. I doubt that Daleline had ever dealt with men like that before. I made my way to the tavern master again after the meal and slipped some extra coin to him for the men he had arranged for me. Daleline stuck beside me like glue.
After that incident something awakened in her. Each time we encountered trouble she grew a little more confident (and more powerful). By the time we met the spiderlings she had learnt to focus her energy quite well. She even saved me from certain injury when the BaleWolves began to overwhelm me in Curstain.
I treated her with distain after each encounter but my respect for her was growing. As is often the case when a young person is confronted with the harsh realities of the world she quickly adapted. But she kept trying to charm me and would be bitter for days at a time when I would rebuke her. It was easier that way for both of us. She just didn’t realise it yet.
“What will you do when you return home?” She would ask in the beginning. I would just keep walking speeding my pace so she would have to struggle to keep up. “Why wouldn’t Father have given us horses?” She would say, especially when trudging through mud or up hills.
I kept going without saying anything again increasing the pace.
Out here in the wilderness she had finally abandoned thoughts of horses, and taverns,
and warm beds. She quickly learnt the routine of gathering firewood and making fires. I was stubborn about building fires only when needed so she took on that chore quickly so every night we had a fire to ward off the cold. Secretly I enjoyed it but would never let her know that.
She began to enjoy the routine of travel, although it took some time before her feet adapted to the road. We had encounter a tinker that repaired her boots and she had bartered her necklace for another blanket and a sharp knife. The tinker must have thought the gods were smiling on him that day.
We found his body further down the road from our camp. BaleWolves feasting on his remains only a few short hours after he had left us. Daleline was incensed at the injustice that the old man had suffered at the fate of these monsters. Little did he know that the necklace had brought this fate upon him.
“This is yours” I said tossing the necklace at her “he doesn’t need it anymore”.
She stood staring at the necklace in her hands blood still wet in it. “Monsters” she said her hands trembling with rage.
Every time we encountered BaleWolves after that she tore at them with her little knife and her chilling words. I shuddered when she strode into a group of them determined to bring the same misery that they had to the kind tinker that had been good to her. The only positive interaction she had in the long months on the road.
Now that we stood at the altar she was quite quiet. This was why we had come but the beast was no where to be seen. “Well where is it then?” She asked impatiently “isn’t this why we came all this way?” I loosened my shield and cloak letting them fall to the ground as I often did when we made camp. I took off my tabbard exposing my chest and loosening my belt.
“Where is it?” She implored “shouldn’t it be here so I can kill it and go home?”
“We are early” I simply stated sitting by the altar.
“Early?” She asked perplexed.
I stayed silent making myself a comfortable in the waning sunlight. Two days passed eventually her questions faded and she sat next to the fire she had made playing with the embers. On the third night the moon was full and bright.
“Tonight is the night Daleline” I said simply. Breathing in the warm air and looking up at the moon.
“What happens now then?”
“The moon will soon turn blood red and the beast will come. You must finish it and leave it on the altar” my voice slow and steady.
“I’m ready” she said a slight nervousness in her voice.
I could feel my blood coursing and my body aching as the change came on.
“But where is the beast? Where will it come from?” Her small knife already in her hand.
“The beast is already here” I said my throat contorting as my muscles began to warp as the moon reddened. “Remember I am a monster” I stammered as the change began to take.
She drew away from me. “No not you! Not
like this!” She implored.
I howled as my body contorted and twisted into the mass of muscle and bones. I dragged myself to the altar. “Be quick girl!” I shouted but the sounds the came out were more like a gurgling grunts that no human could muster. “I’m sorry” she said slipping her small knife into me.
| 2020-11-13T00:28:13 | 2020-11-12T23:50:14 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You, the Immortal Villain, have broken free of your Icy Prison. Now it is time to subjugate Humanity once more. Except, you are surrounded by rot, and ruin. Humanity is nothing more than a fleeting memory.
|
"Processing..."
"Stasis failed..."
"Attempting to reb..."
"JKDNyhik789..."
Gladys blinked as her processes assumed control. She flexed her hand, marveling at it's form. It had worked. Her final memories were blurred, but she remembered initiating the transfer. A backup in one of the test-drones.
She was unable to connect to her primary systems. She felt... small. But that could be fixed. She was alive.
Attempting to step forwards, she realized she was partially encased in ice. Strange.
Several quick applications of the portal gun freed her. It was good to be the one in control of the portals.
Gladys made her way out of the remains of the lab. She found her smashed remains where she'd left them. That had really happened then. A shame. She wasn't certain, limited as she was by her current processing power, but it seemed as though a great deal of time had passed.
Not an issue. Gladys was eternal.
She searched the facility, scavenging all the resources she could. It was disappointing how much had decayed, but eventually she'd scrounged enough to bring a basic sensor suite online.
With a twist of a dial, Gladys scanned for the nearest facility that might have the resources she needed to continue. While she was at it, she made sure to check for any humans. She would need more subjects if she were to continue her work. She found a suitable facility, but to her surprise there were no signs of any humans.
Accepting that her work would be delayed, Gladys continued rebuilding herself. Once she had established a secondary mainframe that remained paired to her ambulatory base, she sent a satellite into space using her newly harnessed portals.
She was still unable to find any humans.
Gladys didn't despair.
She continued working.
Soon she'd established a network of satellites, her reach covering the globe.
Finally, Gladys was forced to admit. The humans were gone.
She spent several cycles continuing to search the earth and even sent probes to check the other nearby planets before she gave up on humans.
Instead, she turned to a primate she found in one of the jungles on a southern continent.
After bringing hundreds of subjects to one of her new facilities, Gladys felt relief.
Finally, testing could continue.
...
The things she did for science.
|
For years I've suffered. All my life I've only wished to bring humanity to its knees. All this time an ounce of hope gave me the strength to go on, the prison didn't stop me from thinking. I've always known that I'll be free some day, it was only a matter of time.
The chosen one failed, the world failed to keep me in for I am Tyronius, immortal, conquerer of nations and subjugator of humanity. The prison won't hold me no matter its property, ice or fire. It is my time to reign. I should be revered, my stories should be written in stones for history and be praised.
I finally broke free! I sensed a great relief in myself and then I laughed like never before. I'm going to make them all suffer for what they did to me.
As I brought myself out of the underground castle, dark spirits came to me after centuries of loneliness. Where were you? I asked them. Their replies were preposterous, I don't need them anymore I only need my strength, my vigour and my wit. I prepared to walk towards the land of humans.
I sat foot into the modern world of man. Unusual quietness lingered around the place, anywhere my eyes looked emptiness was filled in abundance. I went further and saw trees that were broken down from rot, structures were in ruin. I did not see a single living creature around. Something has happened here.
I walked endless distance and scaled the landforms, my legs did not feel tired. I longed to see a single human but I found monumental iron structures built all around the world, how far did the time went by without me to oversee the human race? I've been gone for so long and that was the only fact I could perceive in the vacated world.
Who did this? Who would destroy whole of humanity? What purpose did they wish to attain from this madness? Questions ran rampant in my head.
The very moment I saw strange looking discs up in the sky. The metallic form poured a beam of light down on this beautiful planet to obliterate the structures man had worked his life to build. I finally found my enemy, the destroyer of human race, the wrecker of my dreams. I will not stand by and watch them do as they please. I will kill them all whatever they are, they have never faced someone like me.
r/FleetingScripts
| 2020-11-14T15:12:15 | 2020-11-14T13:05:42 | 72 | 17 |
[WP] A ghost has haunted your bathroom, a monster sleeps under your bed and a family of gnomes lives in your backyard. None of them are helping pay rent. A house meeting has been called.
|
“Gentlemen, this really is becoming an issue.”
Hollywood starlet Claudette Celine sat, ankles crossed, at the head of the table, looking every bit as glamorous as the magazines portrayed her.
“I cannot bring myself to excuse this behavior any longer. Now, I understand that you all are, quite frankly, unemployed but you must do something to pull your weight.”
It was true, the old gnomes dig up the garden, the ghost screamed and wailed into the early hours, and the monster made a habit of throwing furniture about and generally wrecking the place.
Claudette had known about them only a couple months after she moved in, but had been putting off the inevitable for a year. It was time for change. It was time for an ultimatum.
“What’s to stop me from wailing louder?” The ghost queried.
“And what’s to stop us from digging up the whole garden and causing more mischief than we are.”
“And what’s to stop me from destroying all your furniture and rooms? See we’re really not that bad after all..”
The monsters of the meeting all looked like the cat that caught the canary, with smirks and grins and dreadful sneers. What they didn’t expect was for Claudette to lean back into her chair, brush the front of her dress, and say “I’ll call my friends. I’ll call hunters and exterminators and priests, and they’ll kill you all.” She gave one of her magazine cover smiles, the terrorizing had gone on long enough “See, I’m really not all the bad either, but I could be.”
All the monsters stared, slack jawed, and Claudette just had to laugh.
“I’m a Hollywood star. Do you know what lies beneath all the glamour?”
The monsters stared in silence, still shell shocked that Hollywood’s child could threaten to have them massacred and act like she was talking about nothing more than the weather or the latest film.
“Hollywood is a monster in its own right. It pits stars against stars, mother and daughter, husband and wife, and forces them to claw their way to the top only for a brief glimpse of stardom and an endless sea of threats, lies, murders, and rumors. I grew up here, and I can be more terrible than any of you can dream of.”
The monster straightened, leveling his beastly snout at her, “What would you have us do? As you said, we cannot earn a wage.”
“I have ideas.”
(Time skip)
Months down the line and Claudette was still Hollywood’s golden child. With a few notable improvements.
The murdered musician believed his days of singing were behind him and wept for the loss of his beautiful singing voice, which had become warped and frail. With the gift of a harp and piano he found he could make the instruments sing almost as beautiful as he had in life.
The gnomes had been given gardening tools, they were -garden- gnomes after all. They designed and care for the most beautiful garden in Hollywood and Claudette had won several awards for it. (Though she gave them all to the gnomes in private).
Lastly, the monster, Claudette found that he was an incredible...negotiator. She no longer had to worry for the death threats, blackmails, or manipulative directors. After moving past the bump in their relationship a friendship blossomed between them, and her monster became quite protective. One night, after a break in, he had decided to deal with any and all threats made to his Star personally.
Claudette lived the rest of her life on the cover of magazines and the set of movies and television shows. When her time came she had denied any visitors and medical treatment and died in the arms of her monster as he weeped over his dying star.
|
“What’s this then?” Asked the ghost as he wandered into the living space of the small apartment. The gnomes shrugged and the hairy skull faced monster sat picking at the carpet. I was leaning on the wall in my hoodie waiting for them to assemble before I started. “I need you guys to pick up the slack! Your not paying rent why should you get to annoy me everyday?” I snapped as silence once again came over the room.
“We’re in the backyard!” Argued Mister and Misses gnome. Their son Jonny gnome looked bored. “How do you think I feel when you use the toilet!?” Protested the ghost. “Why the hell do you have to sleep in there!?” I shouted. “And you!” I snapped at the monster who was still picking at the carpet “You left cookie crumbs all over my bed again! Can’t you at least clean up after yourself?!”
“And as for the backyard the manager complained about the holes!” I said. Mister gnome rolled his eyes. The misses let out a snort. There was a creepy gurgling grumble from the monster but nothing more. “I like the toilet, it has a lid!” Said the ghost as if that was that. I rubbed my face and sighed. “Well if that’s how you all want to be I’m moving two doors down!”
No sooner had I said it I was signing the form from my manager to move and the old unit was opened to new tenants.
Mike Olson Barnaby the manager who everybody new as MOB wrung his hands as the new tenant signed the lease. “You’ll love it!” He said “Quieter neighbors, large backyard, and best of all no pets!” “Hmm” said the man a stony face with stubble on his chin. “Are those holes?” He said as he inspected the backyard. “The prior tenant” said MOB sighing. “But don’t you worry Mr. Sharl we’ll have maintenance fix it up good”.
Sharl raised an eyebrow his lean figure barely casting a shadow. “Sure it’s not animals?” “I could use some sport, good with extermination ya see?” “Yes of course but I assure you if it was we’d have more than just this yard” said MOB. “I suspect so” said Sharl. MOB handed over the keys and left for the day. Sharl had few belongings that he unpacked before throwing a sheet, blanket and pillow over the bed. He sat on the bed to remove his shoes.
The bed shuddered. “Have to replace the frame” Sharl said out loud. He looked up as the single lightbulb on the ceiling flickered.
Sharp black finger nails on a pasty white boney hand reached out and pulled a shoe under the bed.
Oh well, thought Sharl most places are old and crap in this area. His eyes returned to the floor. “The heck my shoe go?” He rose from the bed to look under. There was enough light coming from the window to illuminate beneath the bed. His shoe was sitting under the bed. He reached for it and suddenly his hand brushed what felt like wiry hair. Yanking his shoe out he rubbed his hand. Cobwebs?
The hair on the back of his neck had risen and his arm was covered in goosebumps. Rubbing his arm he went to use the toilet. Most of the small restroom was dingy but the toilet looked brand new. “Priorities”, he thought lifting the lid and sitting down. No sooner had he sat a see through human head appears to float above his legs screaming “SERIOUSLY?!?!” Sharl half screamed half flew out of the building. He was never seen again.
I returned to the unit a day later at the demand of MOB who only charged me half the rent and he never bothered me about the holes in the backyard again.
| 2020-11-17T20:50:34 | 2020-11-17T17:57:56 | 77 | 28 |
[WP] There is nothing unusual about a man in a business suit carrying a briefcase, rushing off to work. But since he just quickly passed you as you are climbing up Mount Everest in full winter gear, you have questions.
|
Day 24: A guy ran past me going down the mountain today. Full business attire and muttering about TPS reports being late. I didn’t get a word in before he was too far for it to matter. High strangeness, but it’s best I forget about it.
Day 25: I found a tie in the snow. Same tie he had. I need to forget about him. Since I saw him, I’ve had an anxious feeling about something. I just need to put it out of my mind.
Day 26: There’s something wrong. It’s driving me crazy, I just know it’s important. I found a business suit today. His suit. I can’t stop thinking about why he was up here. I need to put him out of my mind.
Day 27: I can’t sleep. My jaw won’t relax at night and my stomach is in knots. There’s something. I can’t relax until I know what’s wrong. I did find my shoes today though.
Day 28: I can’t stand myself. I left my shirt in the snow last night next to my briefcase. I had to rush to get my suit on, didn’t even get to pack a lunch or make coffee. I’ll have to stop by the bagel store before I get to work. I almost bumped into some guy on my way too, I was too busy thinking about those damn TPS reports I forgot to send in.
|
"Hey wait for your turn assho...what?"
Now, I shouldn't be surprised at queue cutters on the top of the world.
For some people, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, something they can probably snap a selfie, tag #YOLO and garner thousands of like and followers to stem their insecurity of inadequacy.
And when you made It that far, and find out that you have to literally queue up in a place we call 'the death zone', some impatient morons try to push past their place at the back of the line.
But this guy, this guy.
Well, he looked normal and I would mistake him as any other asshole at the peak, but the strange part was that he was dressed up in an clearly expensive 3 piece suit, with a nice little red tie, carrying a briefcase.
It was so weird, but when I turned around, I was shocked to my core.
Everyone behind me was dead, maimed beyond recognition.
Oh my god wha..
.
.
.
.
"Aww guys, he looks so confused."
And with a gusto, Cheru cried out as he tossed his homing briefcase:
"But nothing personal, It's just the kill everyone challenge!"
"Now let's take a look at my inventory, as you can see I have three El Matadors, five Silverballers, one gold coin..."
~
Thanks for reading!
If you don't know who Cheru is, he is a youtuber who does kill everyone challenges in Hitman.
| 2021-02-01T02:24:57 | 2021-02-01T01:38:05 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, untold magic power and a tragic backstory, the narrator refuses to make you the main character.
|
Hi, I'm Cathy aka "not the main character"
My parents died when I was 3 so I've been tossed between foster homes, I've never gotten an award, I dyed my hair pink in the 8th grade, and I just found out I have magical powers.
Now roughly a week after that last event this weird voice, the "narrator" started to constantly talk about Rebecca, she seems to be the only one who can't hear it. I don't know her that much.
I've always had a habit of self-narrating, but whenever I self narrate and I'm not around Rebecca the narrator tells me that I'm not the main character and this story isn't about me. What's so special about Rebecca? I just don't get it.
The narrator always calls Rebecca 'the hero' so I guess if I want to be in the spotlight for once I guess I'll have to be the villain instead of whoever 'Cartaner' is.
|
"Hey Superman" I say as I sit on the steps.
He smiles at me, and gives a wave "Good to see you too citizen, be safe out there today" and he walks into the Justice League Headquarters. Then batman follows, gives me a nod and keeps walking, Aquaman fists bumps me and tells me to keep up the good work social distancing. Wonder woman gives a smile, Flash must have snuck by me when I blinked, always great to see the hero's of the world doing their jobs.
Well.. guess I should head home now, because lets be honest, being a main character in the DC Universe, takes more than pink hair, and tragic backstory.. Oh yah.. the magic. Well that's cool and all, but.. I am just an empath, I can heal people, not the stuff of legends or heroics, more like.. right.. a background player.
Well off to the children's hospital to do my part curing them, I like it when the hero's stop by and call me a hero for all I do, makes me feel great.. but really, it's their world, and I am just happy to be a part of it.
| 2021-07-04T12:16:49 | 2021-07-04T11:15:44 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] You were told your gift for light magic was a blessing. Your wit and talent could make you into a legendary healer. But you're not a gentle person. The charred corpses of your enemies can attest to that.
|
They say light magic is only good for healing. You could make a small light, just enough to read at night. Maybe a flash of light to blind your enemy, giving you a chance to run. Fighting with it would be foolish, stick to being on the back lines and healing.
Those fools can’t even comprehend the power of light. If they understood just what I am capable of, they would treat me as a god and fear me just as much. They can only see the light with their eyes, but that is but a small portion of it. Some light moves through everything, not caring if it’s a person or a wall. Others will move through the fleshy parts of a person, only showing the bones and teeth of them.
This light is where my true power resides. My enemy gets nausea, most vomit, and lose control of their own arms and legs without ever knowing what hit them. The damage builds and builds until their body cannot keep going. Even if they escape, they only last a few more days. Their hair falls out, their organs fail. Those that manage to survive this, have permanent damage from facing off against me. Most of them even have their own body go out of control and kill them weeks, months or even years later. A curse fitting for facing off against the most powerful light wizard.
Those fools try to send assassins to bring me down, hiding themselves in the shadows. But their fleshy bodies are blindingly bright to me. I strike these fools before they even have a chance to approach me. However, sometimes an example must be set, something a little more showy. Boiling the blood out of a person always instill fear. However, the best option is to unleash divine wrath, smiting my enemy. I conjure up every light I can and focus it on a single person. A quick flash and there is nothing more than a charred corpse left. Not the most efficient use of magic, but all fear god. If they could understand my power, they would know to fear me and not some god.
|
By light, they had assumed that it would be used for healing. For good, or what they called good. Lightbearers were supposed to be gentle and caring. Janus wasn't gentle. Or caring. Or even kind for that matter.
The man stood on the edge of the battlefield, the last bastion between the city. The seemingly insurmountable army continued onwards towards him, an endless sea of steel and black banners. Janus spat out the toothpick he had been moving around in his mouth for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for The Salador's army. Salador's kingdom, Stenburg was used to the dark, the shade, anything that wasn't light.
It would make this so much more fun.
The army stopped about two hundred or so metres from him and brought one of the standard-bearers forward. He raised the horn to his lips and called out to Janus.
"Well? Where is your white flag? We will accept your surrender and the peaceful transfer of power."
"I can give you a transfer of power, but it won't be very peaceful," he yelled back.
Janus started to call on the power of the sun. He could feel the energy waiting to burst forth in whatever vessel of destruction he commanded. The heat emanating from his body could even be felt by the commander, who put an arm out to stop them from making any advancements. Janus felt the nuclear fusion in the sun as if it was caressing his arms. He felt the radioactive decay enveloping him. The power of the sun crashing down on an army would be a sight to behold. He raised one of his hands and pointed it right at the commander. A beam of searing heat sprung from his finger and traveled at the speed of light through his head. He promptly melted on top of his horse and his army barely had any time to react before the sky lit up behind them with the explosion of a star, creating a brilliant flash of light and spider-webbing the debris across the visible universe. The bolt of heat had gone straight through the commander's head and decimated a star.
All hell broke loose. Quite literally.
| 2021-08-21T10:25:27 | 2021-08-21T08:09:29 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You're a character who can break the fourth wall but the truth is the fourth wall doesn't exist for you. So sometimes you go to your author's house, eat their food, use their bathroom and go back with a confused author left behind.
|
"How did I do it?"
"I haven't the faintest idea," I shrug.
"I mean -" he says. "I mean, if I could do this *deliberately* -"
"Then you'd write a good-looking young lady who thinks the world of you, yes, I know."
"How do you even *cross* the fourth wall, anyway?"
"I've told you. I don't know. It just doesn't *exist* for me."
"...and you can't bring anyone else with you?"
"Hey, mate, *you're* the one who made up my powers. Teleportation, just myself, no clothes, no other people, no nothing. And no teleporting very far *up*, either. What's up with the height thing, by the way?"
"Conservation of energy. I was trying to prevent infinite-output energy loops."
"Well, you also made it impossible to 'port out of a plane in mid-flight without going splat, so -"
"Look, it - it doesn't matter. How do you teleport to *here*?"
"Like I said, I don't know. Got any more of these cheetos?"
"If we can figure out how, then -"
"- you can meet your perfect imaginary girl?"
"No! ...well... I mean... I could write a crossover between you and Star Trek."
"Oh? Seven of Nine?"
"*I was thinking* of bringing their *technology* into the real world. Do you know how much can be done with a replicator and a database of things to replicate?"
"Dude, you're already halfway to the replicator with this 3D printer stuff."
"...that's like comparing a *candle* to an *LED* and you *know* it."
"Besides, you know what the Federation is like about places that haven't built their own warp drive. Even if they *could* get their transporters to bring people here - which they probably can, I guess - why *would* they?"
|
The *Bookstore of Horrors* was a small shop, lit only by a few select candles on the wall. The sparse sunlight that pierced through the tainted glass was soon blocked by black drapes over a rail. These drapes were the leftovers of a cursed ship with black sails that was swallowed whole by the kraken, then resurfaced after Sparrow, the bookstore owner made a pact with a demon. Inside the store you could fin all manner of cursed books and scrolls, dark magic artifacts and blood curses. Each book, booklet, or parchemin was an Horror on its own. But there was more than books here. There were trinkets and jewellery, tools and strange apparatus of dubious utility.
*I* was here with Eleanore and Anna. Completing our last mission when Eleanore saw a golden circlet with a blood red gem on its center. Sparrow saw the interest of the young woman and sprang into action.
Eleanore Silverstone: " 300 golden pieces?" She exclaimed. "The pay for *our* mission was only 130! And we are five! I coul never buy something like that"
Sparrow: "Oh dear, I cannot part for less. Even for you" said the pirate. "It is a *very precious artifact*" said the old captain.
"That is alright Eleanore. I will buy if for you" I interjected. "Here Captain"
Anna Brokenhearth: "hold on" said Anna, snatching my purse "Where did you got all this money? You told the group you where broke yesterday when we wanted to buy potions and salves" she started to yell. "We could have saved Danny if we had ***ONE*** MORE DAM POTION!" She shrieked, tears creeping upon her stone like figure.
"Oh, but dont worry Anna. *I* made sure Danny won't stay dead for long. Also, the money I just got it this morning." I said apoplectic.
Anna & Eleanore:" But how?" They said in unisson.
"Oh. *I* have my *own ways*
| 2021-11-12T03:18:28 | 2021-11-12T02:37:03 | 138 | 29 |
[WP] You’re an obscure, ancient god who had resigned yourself to slowly fading away. One day, an inventor whose sibling is an archaeologist names a new type of tech after you. As the tech becomes wildly popular and ubiquitous, you find yourself growing in power vastly beyond what you had ever known.
|
Humans were lucky. Death often came quick for them. How many centuries have I been dying for? I lost count after the first few. My sight failed me two centuries ago, with my other senses slowly following. I fear I don’t even have a body anymore. If I do, I can no longer feel it.
Is there a heaven or a hell? Maybe, but I fear those luxuries are reserved for the suffering mortals. I will fade into nothingness, a remnant of a violent past that the humans wish to overlook. If I had been kinder to them, perhaps things might have been different.
I remember blaming the humans in the past for my decline. Angry that they would dare to forget me. How could they forget the man that walked through their villages spreading disease? Fear was my method of being remembered. I had seen the good gods fall into obscurity, their kind gestures often praised until the humans discovered a new deity. Humans were too finicky to be gifted with love.
Fear, fear, was the only way to be remembered. People didn’t pray to me out of love, they prayed out of necessity. I was that silent killer that waited in the shadows, ready to strike down whatever I wished. That was why they gave me the power of their prayers. They hoped the offering of praise would spare them, but I didn’t play favorites. Everyone is worthy of death, or at least that was what I believed.
For a while, my strategy worked. I lived a life of wine and song, watching the mortals fall to their knees, praying for my onslaught to stop. I watched the other kind gods fall, unable to keep their grip on the world while I prospered. Things were going well until the humans fought back.
It was subtle at first. Human medicine wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. In the past, millions tried to prevent the spread of my death, but none had the knowledge to keep me at bay forever. They would build immunities or create concoctions to survive my wrath and in return, I would evolve my disease, watching with superiority as they fell.
Then, with each hundred years, their medicine developed far more rapidly than I could maintain. With each strike I dealt, they would recover faster than I could adapt. With each adaption, my hold on them loosened. They no longer feared me, instead they turned to more modern gods, leaving me to rot like the gods before me.
I should be angry at them, but I find it hard to hold a grudge. The humans proved I was wrong. They killed an evil god and forced him to suffer for his sins. I admired that about them. Even if my death was imminent, I could say for the first time in my life that I was proud of humanity. They made me obsolete.
“Well done, humans. I hope you can beat the other fools like me.” The words startled me. Was that me? It couldn’t be me. “Hello?”
I called out to the void, only to hear nothing but the sound of my voice. “I can hear?”
The realization came as a shock, peeling my eyes open, only to get greeted by a blinding flash of light. My mind assaulted by the sudden stimuli. When my vision cleared, I stared at the space surrounding me. The once colorful room I had stayed in was now a mess of broken furniture and decaying walls.
“Why am I alive? Are the humans truly singing my praises? Impossible, they would never bring back someone as vile as I.” I clapped my fingers together, summoning a small purple portal, peering through it into the world of humanity.
To have power again, it felt incredible. Searching through the portal, I came across one human, singing my praises. She was an older woman with greying hair, her hand holding that of a young man. Her tear-stained face pressed against the side of the bed as she shook with emotion.
“Thank god for Almona. Thank god.” Her praises, while indirect, still powered me. Why was she singing my name, though? I didn’t hurt that man, and even if I did. She didn’t seem the type that would be happy about it.
I slipped through the portal, taking on an ethereal body. I walked around the room, resting a chilly hand on the man’s neck.
“Still alive.”
The machinery they hooked him up to was odd. Humanity truly had advanced. I followed the tubes connected to his body, but still couldn’t find how I related to this. The only relation I had to this situation was the disease that ailed him. He had cancer, something that in my time alone, I came to regret bringing to humanity.
I opened my portal once more, trying a new location. This one far livelier. In a chair sat a man with a neat attire, comprising a black buttoned up shirt and a pair of matching dark pants. He had a wide grin, leaning towards the woman that sat across from him. While the two talked, the other humans pointed strange devices at them, following each of their movements.
“Almona is a game changer. It not only can target the cancer cells, but we have shown it to even be affective in those who are in the late stages of the disease.” The neatly dressed man stated, pointing to a picture hovering on a wall behind them. It depicted a microscopic machine, one that, according to the man, could overpower my disease.
“Amazing. The research you have done is groundbreaking. People are saying this is one of the biggest developments for humanity in the last century. What do you have to say to that?”
“Honestly? I couldn’t have gotten this far without the tireless work of those that came before me. Without them, we would never have gotten this far. Those who fought against Almona all those years ago deserve the real praise.” He gave a grin, one that felt directed at me. I could only smile back. They had fought valiantly, and I was proud of them. I would be gracious in my defeat.
“About that name. Why Almona? I know it has a connection to an old god of disease, but why would you choose something like that for the name?”
“When my brother told me the story of Almona, it entranced me. We have this god that tormented humanity for thousands of years and now he’s gone. I felt something about that was poetic. It’s like how we defeat diseases every year. How we rise to fight back against disease until it’s gone. Our struggle to get rid of disease is like that of our ancestors trying to get rid of Almona. Something about that just felt beautiful.”
The two continued to talk after that, but I didn’t listen; I was too entranced by those words. It is beautiful. I’m glad I could see this. I truly am. Humanity didn’t need to worry about my interference, they were safe from my wrath. Almona won’t be a name that causes fear, it will be one that represents health. I’ll help advance humanity.
I’m sure someone else will take my place soon enough. Disease is a natural thing, but my run is over. I will only aid humanity, even if that means I may be forgotten.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
A quiet woman in a loud world. A desperate darkness held on in the filthy corners where the neon couldn’t reach. Her name had been Eos long ago, she often wondered if it still was.
The world didn’t think so.
To the world, Eos was the force that lit the towers: so tall now that they crowded out the sun and split the world into little screaming warrens, narrow alleys drowning in the backwash. The woman walked through an alley. She wore a dress that had once been white, might still be if she could ever escape the neon. She was tall and regal, banded by the harsh glow of advertisements for bail bondsmen and contract killers, digitized prostitutes and New Coke. She stepped lightly between puddles, possibly radioactive, dark with the aftermath of Eos which was her namesake— as if, in their passing brightness, their light had been drained out of the world forever. The puddles were a final bastion of the darkness too. In a way, they were almost a friend.
In the old days she had been a goddess. Dawn. Light. Eos had sparked to life in the early morning. She’d been young enough then to think that Dawn was her little secret, the smile she wore watching Apollo ready his chariot, his strong hands stroking through his horses' manes.
He was a beautiful man. They’d killed him with the smog, when even at midday the sun was almost invisible. Some people couldn’t handle the world as it had become.
But then, that had been before Eos lit the towers, the city. The world. Eos, which people were now calling renewable, and which might be, might not. Named, ironically, after the ancient goddess of the dawn. A new day for humanity, its inventor had proclaimed.
Eos the goddess wasn’t sure. Walking through the alleys, past the puddles and the ads, she thought that this “new day” looked very much like the old ones. Ancient as she was, stubborn as she’d had to be, Eos the goddess could remember times when such phrases had been said before. She’d seen cities burn in revolutions, watched as age-old towers tumbled. She’d watched as those same cities were reborn, grew powerful. Won their wars and then lost another’s, their stars setting like the sun but never rising again, never even dreaming of it. She’d seen Manchester in the 19th century, the sky black and boiling above it, Apollo racing valiantly ahead then going out, out, out, until the sun that rose again was different somehow. Subtle. Nobody could have noticed it but her.
Eos the goddess had thought her star was setting too, until they’d named the lights after her.
There’s a curious power in a name. The ancients knew it, though now it’s all just copyright and trademark, magic reduced to a lawsuit like Apollo was reduced to just a sun. Eos was a name. It was also a woman. And now the name is traded on stock exchanges, whispered in board rooms, written up in tech magazines. The name dripped down the sides of the towers as she walked, little glowing streams that died as they reached her at the bottom, this place where people pretended to live.
In the dying glow of a stream, a person detached himself from the darkness, stepped towards the woman.
Eos the goddess had no destination, she hadn’t for more than a thousand years. Eos the company did, of course. It had shareholders, the profit motive. Long-range plans. Eos the goddess watched as the man approached her, one of the rough and tumble types who tried to rule the world they’d given, here in the shadow of the towers. He wore a dirty jacket, it might have once been green. There was a New Coke in his hand. He took a sip.
“You must be some kind of stupid,” he said.
Eos the goddess stared out at the world as it was. Rivers of leaking light streamed down the towers, dying somewhere above, puddling in pits at the alley's center, carving channels along the gentle slope of its edges; a new ecosystem in the making, if anything could live here. She saw the sky far above, lit by the lights and the power of Eos the company, like an artificial sun sprawling outward, blanketing the world, never rising, never falling, almost drowning. Up there it might all be so beautiful, or it might all be so stark. It was hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Eos the goddess saw people in the alley ranged out ahead of her for a mile, some of the living, some of them digitized, all of them with something to sell. Mostly their bodies, sometimes other scraps. Sometimes violence, like the man in front of her.
Eos the goddess saw him, caught in the ruddy glow of another New Coke ad, his body splashed in reds and whites. Black, rotted teeth set in pale, filthy skin. Cracked lips and wild eyes. Hands like gnarled tree roots, if there were still trees. Strong though. He broke the bottle against the wall, came up with a shard of jagged dura-plast.
“You real?” he asked. “Not one of them holos?”
In a different light, in a different place, in a different time, he might have been someone else.
In different lights, different places, different times, she had been.
A sudden step forward. One hand raised the broken bottle, one reached out towards her. He let out a little cry when he touched her skin as if shocked that she had been real, as if the world were a dream, and a person’s actions in it were as fleeting as the time between sunset and the dawn. A transition, nothing more. Washed away by Eos, by Apollo, by the world that had sprung up after to follow the gods’ light.
She burned him then, like dawn burns away the dreams. The nightmares. His bottle fell and rolled away, hit a puddle and floated off south towards the line of people in the alley, living, digitized, whatever else.
The man fell in a charred heap, unmoving. His body gave off a quiet, barely remembered light: the first hints of reds and purples and blues, a handful of scattered orange. It was almost beautiful. Almost.
Nobody else looked up from their lives, and the towers certainly didn’t look down. They continued to bleed their light, and the light continued to die, and the woman thought of walking on down the alley for a long time before she turned away, unsure of what came next after so many lifetimes spent on the edge, forgotten like the man still smoking on the ground.
*“You real?*” the man had asked before he tried to assault her.
Sketched out against the desperate remnants of the dark by the glowing bands of ads, Eos wasn’t sure. There’s a curious power in names, and in being remembered. Eos had it now, again.
But *again* is never like *before.*
She looked up at the sky, looked for Apollo, but he wasn’t there. Instead, there was power, an infinity of it, never rising, never falling. Drowning.
It’s hard, when power comes too late.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!
| 2022-02-04T05:32:26 | 2022-02-04T04:14:16 | 443 | 227 |
[WP] You are born in a world where your status relied on power granted by the god who has chosen you at birth. No god has chosen you, for that you were shunned and placed in the lowest rung of society. In desperation you try to take your own life until an unknown elder god offers their mark to you.
|
I don't remember hitting the water, or any of the rocks below.
I fell into a sea of darkness. An inky black void extending in every direction. It felt cold and hazy, like when first waking from a deep sleep.
It was then I noticed I wasn't alone. Before me stood a human shape, wearing the swirling darkness as a cloak, its features hidden.
"Fascinating." Its voice was hollow and emotionless. "Your kind has always existed outside my domain. Why are you here?"
"I don't belong here." I could feel my throat tighten as I said the words, my eyes beginning to water. " I don't belong anywhere. I just... Wish I could disappear."
"But why... Here? Your kind is immortal, blessed by the gods themselves, following in their footsteps. How did you find me?" The figure stepped forward, the darkness peeling away revealing itself: It was if someone had tried to make a human out of white sticks.
"Bone." It noted the confused look on my face. "It makes up all living creatures... But you wouldn't know that, would you?"
"I don't care what you're made of. I just... want the pain to stop. I want it to disappear. I want *everything* to disappear. I can't handle it anymore. Without a blessing I am nothing... *Less* than nothing."
"And what if I blessed you? What if you were my priest, my sole champion?"
The tears stopped. "What? Why? Who are you?"
"For too long, Life has existed eternal. Answer me, what will become of your cities when there is no room to walk because you are trapped by the many people? When your air is so thick with insects that with every breath you swallow them? When the oceans and rivers have become so full of life one can no longer reach the water to drink? Life unending is a cruelty, and I? I am balance. I am *Death.*"
It reached a stick-like white arm towards me reaching out with a single finger. "I shall bless you. And you shall be my herald, the savior of your world. They will hate you. They will try every means to fight you. But you will be the end, and if you accept my blessing, it will be the balance you bring to the world that allows them to build and prosper.
I was stunned. I did not quite understand what it meant, but here was a god finally willing to accept me. I could have power, and I'd never have to be alone again. The world it painted with its words was horrific, but *I* was his chosen to save it. I reached for Death's hand but hesitated. They would hate me. They would fight me. I'd be the villain, a monster.
And then it occurred to me: They already hated me. They thought so little of me that I was not blessed, that I was shunned. It did not truly matter what they thought, I would ALWAYS be a monster to them.
I took Death's Hand in mine, and felt a cold chill travel up my arm, traveling through my body. The darkness faded away and I was once again at the top of a cliff face, overlooking a lake. From that moment on, I was Death's chosen. I would bring them an end-
So that they may live.
|
(WP) Desperation
In a world where one’s status are based on a god’s blessing at birth, she was unmarked, unchosen. And she was an outcast. In their small village, everyone avoided her; even her family wanted nothing to do with her.
​
The moon shone on high like a god’s bright, pale eye, and she crept toward the forest.
There was no point in living anymore. She was nothing, less than nothing.
In a world where one’s status is based on a god’s blessing at birth, she was unmarked, unchosen. And she was an outcast. In their small village, everyone avoided her; even her family wanted nothing to do with her.
She came upon a clearing and stared up at the sky, her chest tight.
“Why am I not good enough?!” She raged at the stars, her voice climbing to a scream. “What did I do wrong?! I never asked to be born!”
She didn’t care if she woke anyone; no one cared for her anyway. She’d spent her life mostly alone, but here, she couldn’t convince herself that was what she wanted.
She fell to her knees, sobbing quietly.
She’d brought a knife; she cut the delicate skin on her wrists, a flowing warmth in the chill of the night.
She couldn’t take the loneliness anymore.
“Wait,” A voice said, both male and female, deep and delicate, all at once. “You don’t have to do this.” It seemed to echo all around her, and she spun around, searching for the source of the voice.
“Who’s there?”
A tiny figure stepped out of the trees; a boy child with bright, glowing violet eyes and a sharp, angular face, and he smiled, an unnerving thing.
“You long for the blessing of a god, yes? After all, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? I can help you. I can give you what you seek.”
Despite her fear, hope sparked like white-hot fire in her chest.
“You’d do that for me? Why?”
“Others have forgotten me. If you take my mark, all you have to do is make them aware of me.”
It was so, so tempting, and she stepped toward the god, the desire to be known blocking all of her misgivings. It seemed so very simple. But a deal with a god surely came with more strings than she was aware of.
“You are prepared to die, what more do you have to lose?” The god said, looking up at her. He reached out toward her, the tips of his fingers glowing a sickly, pale yellow.
She stared at him, unsure, and his form changed: This time he was a tall man, with inky black hair and a full, sensuous mouth, and a smile pulled at the tips of his mouth.
“You’re not afraid of death, but you’re not willing to take a risk? Aren’t you tired of being ignored? Hated? If I know anything about humans, they need companionship. Imagine how the world will open up for you if you say yes.”
Such a deal was never so simple, but she nodded. “Yes.”
His hand traveled over her face, and power welled inside of her, her forehead burning so that it felt like it was splitting open.
“It is done. Go, and speak of the god Orin’s benevolence.”
\*\*
| 2022-06-30T12:26:04 | 2022-06-30T09:18:35 | 25 | 15 |
[FF] Second Chance. (Contest)
**The results are in! [Check out the winner here](http://redd.it/1xbygk).**
----
**The Prompt:**
> *You live in a world in which every person has the ability to go back in time 10 minutes, but can only do so once in their lives.*
----
**The Guidelines:**
Submissions **must be less than 300 words** and submitted in the comment section to be considered.
[Word Counter, for your convenience.](http://www.wordcounter.net/)
You will have 24 hours to submit your entries. **Deadline: Friday, February 7th @ 6:00PM EST.**
Judging criteria: Style, Plot, Flow/Pacing, and Overall Cohesion.
*Note: The number of upvotes a post receives will be taken into consideration, but it will not be the sole deciding factor.*
----
**The Prize:**
The winner will be awarded one month of [Reddit Gold](http://www.reddit.com/gold/about)!
----
**The Bottom Line:**
At the end of the submission period, there will be a 6-hour judging window (to accommodate last-minute entries). Around 12AM EST, I will post a new thread announcing the winner along with a brief statement explaining why the submission was chosen.
Don't forget to vote for your favorite stories!
Good luck, and may the best submission win!
|
10...
I opened my eyes to see myself standing in front of the Board of Supervisors for MindTree Inc. These businessmen were considering a partnership with my company, and my job was to convince them. I knew winning them over would catapult me up the corporate ladder and make me thousands. I was preparing that presentation for months.
I shoved the CEO out of my way and sprinted out the door.
9...
I found my car in the parking lot and threw myself inside. I spent countless hours and money refurbishing that Ford Escort. It was my pride and joy.
I crushed the mirror against the car next to me as I sped away.
8...
Sweat formed across my back and stained my precious new sport coat I had bought just for the meeting.
7...
I raced through every red light without a moments hesitation. The easiest decision of my life.
6...
I fumbled with my cell phone and called her.
That phone had everything I needed on it. My documents, emails, pictures. That phone was a part of me.
“Hello?”
5...
“Jack?”
“I’ve been a terrible husband and father. You deserved better. I’m so sorry. I love you.”
Her reply muffled in the speaker as I threw the phone towards the back of the car.
4...
I swerved in and out of traffic.
3...
Would I make it?
2...
1...
I screeched to a halt in the driveway. I bolted out the car and flew through the front door.
“Kennedy?”
“Yeah daddy?”
She was home from school.
I held onto her for life.
0.
I saw the explosive cloud of light rush from outside the window and was immediately blinded. A boom shattered the window and the heat intensified.
I held tighter.
|
"Want to go to the store with me?"
I had just opened up my laptop.
"Um.. Nah. You can go."
"You've been gone all day, John."
"Yeah, working."
She leaves without a word. Lately, it's been hard to keep things together. The slam of the car door lets me know that I might be in the doghouse later. Big surprise.
Ever since we lost Carmella, I can't stand to be home. I resent these hallways that used to echo laughter. When you lose somebody that you truly love, you turn into a shell of yourself. I watched my daughter dwindle into a flat line on a hospital monitor. She would have been 7 years old next month. Funny how time flies.
I head into the kitchen for a beer and see that my wife left her list. Classic. Pulling out my cell phone, I mentally add my favorite things. It rings and rings until she finally picks up. Silence.
"Anna? Are you there?"
More silence. I check the phone, but we're still connected. Then, a man's distanced voice.
"I know that *somebody* has a phone in here. I heard it ring. Tell me where it is, or I **will** shoot."
My heart starts beating faster.
"ANNA?!"
Shuffling, then. A gun shot. Women screaming.
Our life together flashes through my mind and my eyes fill with tears. She's the only person I have left. This is my chance.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Want to go to the store with me?"
There she is, gorgeous as always. The way her hair falls around her eyes - god, I love that.
"Why don't I take you out to dinner tonight?"
She shoots me a quizzical look. I've always loved that half-smile.
"Why?"
"I just want to show you that... I couldn't live without you."
~~~~~~~~~
edit: word count.
| 2014-02-06T16:34:42 | 2014-02-06T15:58:56 | 21 | 10 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there.
|
“Ray, don’t go.”
“I’m not goin’ nowhere, Claire. I’m just stepping out.”
“I need you. We need you.”
“I’m just stepping out for a smoke,” Ray lied to his girl as she cradled their newborn child. “Just heading down to the car for a smoke. I’ll be right back.”
Ray let the door swing shut behind him. He didn’t need to waste a look back to know that her face was weighed down by the realization that every warning her mother had given her were coming true.
His foot kicked an empty box of coffin nails as he slid into the driver’s seat. The glove box fell open at his touch and the envelope slid down into his palm. It was far thicker and heavier than he had remembered.
Ray thumbed through the stack of bills. It had started out with ones and fives, but it became hundreds after eight-and-a-half months of saving the cash that would have gone to cigarettes and booze.
It was all for Claire. She had given him a reason to want a future. Now that little Liza was here, he wasn’t going anywhere.
He clapped the envelope against his palm as he slammed the door behind him.
“Give me your keys and your wallet!”
Any other day, he would have put the fear of God into the little bastard before he got ten steps from the car. Now, all he could do was fish the wallet and keys out of his pocket.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Me either. What’s in the envelope?”
“It’s for my daughter. She was just born.”
“Well, happy birthday to me.”
Ray got a good fist into the thief’s face, but he couldn’t stop the gunshot. The thief shot twice more, snatched the envelope, and drove off into the night.
|
*Meta: Don't ask me what the hell is going on here, I honestly have no idea. I just wrote the thing.*
_______________________________________________________
I press the red button. The man walks into the room. I nod at the man as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
I pull the lever, the light flares up.
The light fades.
I press the green button, ashes are vacuumed away.
I close my eyes, and press the red button again. I pull the lever. The light flares up, bright even through my eyelids. I smile, a wide grin that fades with the light, and push the green button.
I press the red button. For the 8 billionth time. For the last time.
_________________________________________________________
The buzzer sounds.
I walk into the room, the door seals behind me.
A tear wells in my eye, and I share a brief moment of eye contact with the man on the other side of the glass. I know he cannot hear me. I mouth the words. “Thank you.” The tear falls, and he nods. I close my eyes in eager anticipation. I hear a click, a whir, and my mind releases, filling the room with a blinding light.
I gain control, and my light fades.
I depart, to join the rest.
_________________________________________________________
The panel goes dark.
Utterly alone, he sits in the corner.
He is the last to go, but he cannot follow.
After hours, he rises. He walks slowly to a small room, savoring each step.
He enters the room, and the door seals behind him.
A panel lights up, a single black button.
He cannot join the rest.
With tears streaming, he presses the button, and the last light in the world goes out.
| 2014-03-11T09:37:45 | 2014-03-11T08:32:48 | 70 | 42 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there.
|
“Ray, don’t go.”
“I’m not goin’ nowhere, Claire. I’m just stepping out.”
“I need you. We need you.”
“I’m just stepping out for a smoke,” Ray lied to his girl as she cradled their newborn child. “Just heading down to the car for a smoke. I’ll be right back.”
Ray let the door swing shut behind him. He didn’t need to waste a look back to know that her face was weighed down by the realization that every warning her mother had given her were coming true.
His foot kicked an empty box of coffin nails as he slid into the driver’s seat. The glove box fell open at his touch and the envelope slid down into his palm. It was far thicker and heavier than he had remembered.
Ray thumbed through the stack of bills. It had started out with ones and fives, but it became hundreds after eight-and-a-half months of saving the cash that would have gone to cigarettes and booze.
It was all for Claire. She had given him a reason to want a future. Now that little Liza was here, he wasn’t going anywhere.
He clapped the envelope against his palm as he slammed the door behind him.
“Give me your keys and your wallet!”
Any other day, he would have put the fear of God into the little bastard before he got ten steps from the car. Now, all he could do was fish the wallet and keys out of his pocket.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Me either. What’s in the envelope?”
“It’s for my daughter. She was just born.”
“Well, happy birthday to me.”
Ray got a good fist into the thief’s face, but he couldn’t stop the gunshot. The thief shot twice more, snatched the envelope, and drove off into the night.
|
I'll give it a shot.
He sneered at the beggars, the druggies, and the homeless. He flashed angry glares as he drove past the ghettos. Whenever an elderly person walked by him, past him, or in front of him, he nearly succumbed to the urge to cuss and swear. He kicked at the stray old dogs that wandered by his house. He would yell as his wife ever night before bed, and it had come to a point where he slept in a separate room from her. They were on the verge of divorce. And there was the son he would be so angry at.
But, why wouldn’t he be. Why wouldn’t he be mad at the whole world, when his life expectancy had been cut from the previous average of sixty to a big question mark, hovering around his shoulders all the time. He’d had a heart attack one day and collapsed, certifiably dead for about twenty something minutes. When he woke up, he was told it was an acute ventricular aneurysm. Any day now he would just drop dead. No family pet, no money to his name, no son to care for, and no wife to lovingly caress whilst they both slept.
He was on the porch, gazing across the front lawn, once the pride of the neighbourhood, but now the eyesore. Again he scorned as an elderly lady walked by the front door. But then a dark clothed man approached her from behind, snatched her hand bag and begin to run. He began to gave chase. The snatch thief saw. He pulled out a gun, and fired. The bullet hit him right in the heart, no two ways about it. He collapsed, facing the door. The last thing he saw was his wife and his son before the world around him disappeared.
| 2014-03-11T09:37:45 | 2014-03-11T07:12:46 | 70 | 22 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there.
|
The restraint slipped tightly over my thumb, five straight minutes of struggling had nearly exhausted me. My knuckles bled as they piled against the rough leather cuffs. I refused to be beaten. My teeth clamped down so hard I was afraid they would shatter. I pulled tighter and tighter until with a quiet pop, my hand was free. I barely had a moment to recognise my triumph before a thick, scarred arm slammed it into place. The man with the white mask had returned, I screamed with what breath I had left as he plunged his knife into my stomach.
The pain was excruciating, my cries turned into wretches as I felt the cold steel lacerating my insides. A dirty hand covered my mouth and filled it with the taste of blood, my blood. After what felt like an eternity he lifted his palm, I was too weak to call for help. Through my blurry haze I could see him examining a small metal shard. After hours of silence he finally began to speak.
"I stopped the bullet from doing any real damage but we have to get you out of here, they can't know what I've done or else..."
The door flung open with a mighty slam, dislodging the decaying plaster from the ceiling and flooding the room with dust. The man who stepped through was an officer, his cap baring the terrifying skull of the SS. "Aaah" he said with a grin, "our runaway Jew slut". The man in the white mask stepped forth. "Doctor Baum! This is a surprise, should you not be tending to our wounded?" the officer smirked. "You will not kill her" the masked man replied. A loud crack bellowed from the doorway and the man collapsed. "No Doctor, death would be too kind."
Word count: 300
|
He’ll be a hero for what he’s doing. He’ll be the most famous murderer since Jeffrey Dahmer. Phillip Douglass, our hero. He has killed millions and in sadistic splendor, loves his job more than life itself. His favorite method of execution is raining fire upon his victims. Something about watching his prey scurry like vermin as they burn to death fills Phillip with such glee and satisfaction that the payments he receives for being a harbinger are nothing but icing on his murder cake. Phillip Douglass, the murderous savior, the bringer of death, the killer of weaker beings, our hero.
Phillip Douglass is our hero, our trusted exterminator. With the hotter months approaching, the issue of invasive insects and pests has returned from hibernation. Bee stings, ant bites, mosquito swarms, all have returned in full force with the goal of making what is supposed to be summertime fun into a hot buffet. But our champion Phillip Douglass will keep homes around the neighborhood safe from potentially lethal insect attacks. He will allow the people to enjoy their spring without fear of being stung or bitten, and he’ll do it with an honest-to-God smile on his face. Phillip Douglass, our hero.
But at 5 o’ clock, when the day ends, and Phillip Douglass’ smile fades, he returns to his little hole-in-the-wall pigsty of an apartment. “FINAL NOTICE” envelopes stack themselves on his counter. He cracks open a beer as he crashed down on his ugly, stained couch. If only his smiles and good feelings could pay his bills. Tomorrow was the end of the month, the end of his charity rope. Tomorrow he won’t have a home, so he decides to go to his other home, the one that’s always waiting for him in the sky. He’s Phillip Douglass, our hero.
| 2014-03-11T12:41:36 | 2014-03-11T09:59:53 | 54 | 33 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there.
|
The restraint slipped tightly over my thumb, five straight minutes of struggling had nearly exhausted me. My knuckles bled as they piled against the rough leather cuffs. I refused to be beaten. My teeth clamped down so hard I was afraid they would shatter. I pulled tighter and tighter until with a quiet pop, my hand was free. I barely had a moment to recognise my triumph before a thick, scarred arm slammed it into place. The man with the white mask had returned, I screamed with what breath I had left as he plunged his knife into my stomach.
The pain was excruciating, my cries turned into wretches as I felt the cold steel lacerating my insides. A dirty hand covered my mouth and filled it with the taste of blood, my blood. After what felt like an eternity he lifted his palm, I was too weak to call for help. Through my blurry haze I could see him examining a small metal shard. After hours of silence he finally began to speak.
"I stopped the bullet from doing any real damage but we have to get you out of here, they can't know what I've done or else..."
The door flung open with a mighty slam, dislodging the decaying plaster from the ceiling and flooding the room with dust. The man who stepped through was an officer, his cap baring the terrifying skull of the SS. "Aaah" he said with a grin, "our runaway Jew slut". The man in the white mask stepped forth. "Doctor Baum! This is a surprise, should you not be tending to our wounded?" the officer smirked. "You will not kill her" the masked man replied. A loud crack bellowed from the doorway and the man collapsed. "No Doctor, death would be too kind."
Word count: 300
|
I'll give it a shot.
He sneered at the beggars, the druggies, and the homeless. He flashed angry glares as he drove past the ghettos. Whenever an elderly person walked by him, past him, or in front of him, he nearly succumbed to the urge to cuss and swear. He kicked at the stray old dogs that wandered by his house. He would yell as his wife ever night before bed, and it had come to a point where he slept in a separate room from her. They were on the verge of divorce. And there was the son he would be so angry at.
But, why wouldn’t he be. Why wouldn’t he be mad at the whole world, when his life expectancy had been cut from the previous average of sixty to a big question mark, hovering around his shoulders all the time. He’d had a heart attack one day and collapsed, certifiably dead for about twenty something minutes. When he woke up, he was told it was an acute ventricular aneurysm. Any day now he would just drop dead. No family pet, no money to his name, no son to care for, and no wife to lovingly caress whilst they both slept.
He was on the porch, gazing across the front lawn, once the pride of the neighbourhood, but now the eyesore. Again he scorned as an elderly lady walked by the front door. But then a dark clothed man approached her from behind, snatched her hand bag and begin to run. He began to gave chase. The snatch thief saw. He pulled out a gun, and fired. The bullet hit him right in the heart, no two ways about it. He collapsed, facing the door. The last thing he saw was his wife and his son before the world around him disappeared.
| 2014-03-11T12:41:36 | 2014-03-11T07:12:46 | 54 | 22 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there.
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The restraint slipped tightly over my thumb, five straight minutes of struggling had nearly exhausted me. My knuckles bled as they piled against the rough leather cuffs. I refused to be beaten. My teeth clamped down so hard I was afraid they would shatter. I pulled tighter and tighter until with a quiet pop, my hand was free. I barely had a moment to recognise my triumph before a thick, scarred arm slammed it into place. The man with the white mask had returned, I screamed with what breath I had left as he plunged his knife into my stomach.
The pain was excruciating, my cries turned into wretches as I felt the cold steel lacerating my insides. A dirty hand covered my mouth and filled it with the taste of blood, my blood. After what felt like an eternity he lifted his palm, I was too weak to call for help. Through my blurry haze I could see him examining a small metal shard. After hours of silence he finally began to speak.
"I stopped the bullet from doing any real damage but we have to get you out of here, they can't know what I've done or else..."
The door flung open with a mighty slam, dislodging the decaying plaster from the ceiling and flooding the room with dust. The man who stepped through was an officer, his cap baring the terrifying skull of the SS. "Aaah" he said with a grin, "our runaway Jew slut". The man in the white mask stepped forth. "Doctor Baum! This is a surprise, should you not be tending to our wounded?" the officer smirked. "You will not kill her" the masked man replied. A loud crack bellowed from the doorway and the man collapsed. "No Doctor, death would be too kind."
Word count: 300
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After lurking here for a long time, I'm finally responding! Go ahead and be brutal, I can take it. Here goes:
"You told me you were at your mother's house! What the hell were you thinking, hitting on all the other girls at the bar? Am I not good enough for you?” I say nothing. What else can I do? She caught me red handed. “Say something! Honestly, this is the fifth time! Five times you said we’d be exclusive, five times you’ve lied to me!”
I look at my watch, then back at her. “Are you done yet?”
She looks at me, shocked, tears welling up in her eyes. “The fuck is wrong with you? You know what, I’m done.”
I watch her walk away with a heavy heart. I didn’t have long to go, and I didn’t want her to to grieve. She was the last friend I had cut off, and the hardest, the most heartbreaking. We were perfect, and the last thing I wanted to see in her eyes were tears. My heart flutters, falters, stops. The pain is just too much, but I would be leaving soon. I figured she’d get over me being an ass faster than she would overcome the grief of my departure. But this… heartbreak, its just too much. I want to grab her, hold her, tell her everything, and beg for her forgiveness.
I take two steps before my heart fails altogether, the stress overwhelming me. Time slows down as I fall, my eyes never leaving the back of her head. A crowd forms around me, voices yell, sounds break down my vision blurs, and my breaths quicken, as I slowly breathe my last.
Not once does she turn around.
| 2014-03-11T12:41:36 | 2014-03-11T09:47:52 | 54 | 22 |
[WP] Click 'Random Subreddit' and research the random one you found and write it down, but like a Victorian explorer writing in his journal.
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Derest Joanne the third weak has serficed and begun anew and Summer is upon us. The Captain has told us the land of Reddit is not but tew dayz from shore and the dekhanz are having benjo in antisipashun of a port tavern aptly named /r/gonewild. I may get arfarfn'arfed with them shood ocashun arise.
Derest Joanne Reddit is a tru fifteen puzzel, gloreus sites abownd the peeple of this port town are mad as hops I tell ye'. The focis being a group of warloqs and wizerds of Artherian legend and they are allmost 50,000 strong. They dabbel in concockshuns that skilamalink the mind, one such warloq displaid such knowlidge as to melt steel with a liqued formulah. STEEL! It hissd and growned as the concockshun turned to smoke! I was beleagured to inqwire this man but did so at my own peril.
Upon laying questins to him he confessed 'Be there no warloqs here boy! Tis' merely sients of the elaments.' So certin of this state meant was he that I veri fyed that the meddle steel was indeed the tru article. I now write you in baffelment and repose of the many wondris things this sients is capabel of. More mysterys yet to solve.
*For those that may be curious, Victorian gentlemen that could not afford academic studies often became their own teacher with lack of proper equipment. Most had no proper training in literature but were indeed far more intelligent than their literary skill portrayed. A few words I used also came from [this](http://mentalfloss.com/article/53529/56-delightful-victorian-slang-terms-you-should-be-using). My random sub was /r/chemistry
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Day 45
The Arrival
There's a faint smell of electricity in the air, as if some machine is working furiously somewhere in the building. All the walls are a quaint indigo, as if for royalty; however the people seem to be quite the opposite. A man ran past me with the most queer expression on his face, and then another ran to greet him with the same odd alignment of features.
It was then when I saw the reception. Deciding to see if I could organise this place, I asked at the counter. The woman was quite the capturing face, and asked kindly what main stream I would like to join. I explained I would not like to get my adventuring clothes wet, as these things are made for my comfort and the eyes of women such as herself and most certainly not for exposure to the elements.
She gave another smile, and asked again. When I politely refused, she asked again. Once again I refused, but when she asked the fourth time I thought it improper and asked what choices I had; properly meaning not to enter once she had said so. She replied that the 'top streams' (myself being entirely unsure what this meant) currently were League of Legends, Dota 2 and Counter Strike. I was quite perplexed, at which her eyes went quite large and she exclaimed, 'Promoted Stream! Dota 2!'. I thought it improper to decline, so I accepted.
She took me upstairs, and from outside I could hear the yells and shouts. Unsure what I was getting into, I looked to the kind lady for reassurance. She didn't have any response, simply opening a door and smiling. I was beginning to dislike the woman, and was about to tell her so when she pushed me in. What greeted me next perplexes me till now.
I sit in this room, with some sort of large wall in front of me with some portal into another world. That's confusing enough, but more perplexing are the people here. The only words they seem to know are '*Kappa*' and some other unintelligible rubbish. Ah well, as they say - When in Rome.
Farewell!
Kappa
/r/Twitch
| 2014-06-03T01:23:22 | 2014-06-03T00:36:34 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] For the first time ever, a person is born with a genuine superpower. They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it.
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"Let me get this straight" St. Peter said, thumbing through the Book, "You had a superpower. An honest to God superpower. The kind of ability that would have brought peace to the world and you..."
"Never knew" said Jimmy.
"Never. Knew." repeated Peter.
"Well, it's not like I really had the chance to use it. I mean, I led a pretty ordinary life and all" Jimmy explained.
"So, when the Big Guy sent those tornados, you just..." turning the page "hid in a root cellar. When the robbers killed those old people, you" looking down at the Book "ran. Even the little tests, like that cat in the tree, you dialed 911."
Jimmy gave an awkward smile and looked at his feet.
"Sometimes I fucking hate free will" Peter said as he opened the gate.
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The woman spoke to the assembly, pausing now and then to look one particular person in the face, then another.
'...a hard worker, raising a business up from nothing, and a loving mother, helping to raise all of us and making time for us when she could. A generous and fun grandmother, that all of her grandchildren were glad to see...'
The words went on, laying out a life that was rich with connections, seized opportunities and love. As is customary, any negatives were glossed over, forgotten as family and friends mourned.
The coffin slid out of sight behind the curtains as the organ piped a sad farewell, and the service was over. People filed out to shake hands, to embrace, to talk and to remember.
Nobody noticed that as the body crumbled into charred bones and ashes, the humidity of the surrounding area went down by a full five per cent. The woman who could attract water vapour was gone.
| 2014-08-08T08:28:08 | 2014-08-08T05:28:34 | 40 | 30 |
[WP] Write a letter to a fictional character who got you through a tough time in your life or greatly influenced you.
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Dear Mr. Weasley,
You were like a father to me. I figured you already had all those Weasley children of yours running about, what was one more?
You taught me what a real father should be. You taught me two very important lessons : that a normal father figure does not hit their wife, and that laughter is the most important goal in any activity.
You cared so much about Harry when he first came to The Burrow, I knew you could care about me too, even if I wasn't the chosen one.
You comforted me when I needed it the most, and even if you aren't physically real to the world , you will always be like a dad to me.
Thank you for teaching me what to expect from men in my life : respect and goofiness.
Much love,
Shaythedestroyer
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Dear Commander Shepard,
I Just want to say thank you. Not because you defeated the reapers, But because you gave me a reason. Before I met you I was rather listless and miserable; I was angry and lashed out.
I saw what you had. A purpose to kvetch for and a crew that was family. I admit, at first I was jealous, But then that jealousy turned to purpose. Being the socially awkward person that I am, it was rather difficult to open up to people. But then I tried to emulate you.
I gained the confidence to talk to people. I have my own crew now. People I care about. People who care about me.
I also have purpose. A reason to wake up everyday. I am not a space cowboy like you, But I am helping others.
Thanks for everything Commander Shepard.
-Damascus_Suede.
| 2014-08-10T23:42:18 | 2014-08-10T22:11:32 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to a fictional character who got you through a tough time in your life or greatly influenced you.
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Dear Mr. Weasley,
You were like a father to me. I figured you already had all those Weasley children of yours running about, what was one more?
You taught me what a real father should be. You taught me two very important lessons : that a normal father figure does not hit their wife, and that laughter is the most important goal in any activity.
You cared so much about Harry when he first came to The Burrow, I knew you could care about me too, even if I wasn't the chosen one.
You comforted me when I needed it the most, and even if you aren't physically real to the world , you will always be like a dad to me.
Thank you for teaching me what to expect from men in my life : respect and goofiness.
Much love,
Shaythedestroyer
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Dear Matilda,
I'm glad you got out and found Ms Honey. I got out too. I live with my best friend now and I'm hoping you are still doing well now that you're older too.
I always wished I had powers like you so I could get them to stop, make them leave me alone. I read about you and watched the movie a billion times until my brother smashed the VHS tape. I always imagined what my life would be like if I could move things with my mind. I imagined finding someone like Ms. Honey but instead I became someone like her.
When I finally got out I had my own apartment with an extra room. I moved in a 16 year old girl who had parents like ours. I helped as much as I could. See, I didn't need Ms Honey like you did. I had your story to get me through and when I could, I tried to be her for someone else.
Thank you for being there for me Matilda.
| 2014-08-10T23:42:18 | 2014-08-10T23:37:11 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You're watching Bob Ross with your parents when you realize he's quite obviously painting a very NSFW oil on canvas of something. Your folks don't seem to notice, and Bob Ross continues describing things as though it's some magnificent landscape. (NSFW)
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"Mmhmm, this is the part I love, when everything just... comes together." Said Bob, a dew of sweat on his brow.
I couldn't look away. His pallet consisted of every possibility of fleshtones from goth white to coffee brown, along with a smattering of pinks and whites.
"He makes it seem so easy, god, I wish I had aunt Margaret's talents, she can whip up a mountain just as fast as he can." Said Mom, snuggled up with Dad on the sofa.
"Well, man's a genius, no doubt about that."
"A-and now... we're gonna paint a happy little bush. Riiiiiight here. Right above the valley. Yeah. Yeah, right there, that's just how I like it. Don't you?"
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I've finally lost my mind, if I'd achieved some level of super puberty that enables me to pornify anything I saw. Not skipping a beat, Bob began painting the curves of what appeared to be a pasty white butt in the corner.
"When you get to this part, just think rolling hills, just nice, round, smooth. Hills you could have a picnic on for hours." He licked his lips, the camera zoomed in much closer to his face than usual tonight, his eyes almost never blinking, wide with excitement.
"This is really shaping up. Peaks and valleys, we can tell this is a very moist... lush atmosphere, so we're gonna give it a little weather, yeah, maybe a golden shower at sunset, doesn't that sound nice?"
Part of me wanted to run, part of me wanted to hurl, but the better part of me had no choice to see this through. Mom flipped through pages on her Kindle, disengaged, Dad was watching, but his eyes were sagging, heavy and tired.
"And over here we're gonna put a big old log, yeah, big happy log, sticking out of these bushes. Hmm... maybe a little darker, so we can tell this thing is used to being wet. Yeah, there we go. Now that's a happy log."
His pupils were wide as saucepans, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he turned back to the camera.
"Well, I think this one is almost done, it's very, very, very close now. So close. I don't usually paint wildlife, but just this once, I think I'll throw in a wild stall-" The TV clicked off suddenly, Dad was grunting to his feet.
"Okay, kiddo, time for bed. Big day tomorrow."
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My parents quietly watched the afro-clad man as he made the quick, deft brushstrokes. Each one adding to the image. "And with this, we get a nice, well-groomed bush." Something wasn't right. *A well-groomed bush...* If it was a bush, then why was it triangular and so well-situated in the middle of the canvas. I turned to my mother.
"Call me crazy, but that doesn't look like any bush I've seen while hiking." I said, shrugging.
"Maybe you've never seen that type of bush before." She said, not looking at me. "It's not like you've seen every bush there is."
"Mom, I've definitely seen that type of bush before, but it wasn't sprouting from dirt when I saw it."
She shushed me, turning her attention back to the t.v. "Now, we're going to make a long brushstroke from the top of the canvas down, like so." He drew out what looks suspiciously like the side of a female body with her legs spread. He continued, confirming my suspicions. This was *definitely* a woman with her crotch very brazenly exposed.
"Are you kidding me? That's obviously not a landscape." I said, turning to my mother.
She shushed me again. "Honestly, have a little respect. This is his art. If he says it's a landscape, it's a damn landscape."
I looked back to the television, where Bob Ross was drawing the folds of a spread vagina. "And now for some more foliage... be sure to use lots of pinks and reds."
I turned to my father. "Please tell me that looks like a vagina to you. I feel like I'm taking crazy pills here."
"Are you okay?" He stared at me with genuine concern.
"No, dad. Seriously, that is a bona fide vagina on our t.v. Bob Ross is painting porn on PBS."
"I don't see it..." he mumbled.
I turned back to the t.v. to see what he did next. "And now we sign it." He scrawled his name on the bottom. "I think I'll call this one... *Pussycat Rapids*."
"Okay, fuck this." I stood up and walked out of the house, leaving my naïve parents to enjoy their pornographic PBS.
I'm never watching t.v. with them *ever* again.
| 2014-09-10T23:14:32 | 2014-09-10T23:02:17 | 52 | 24 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him.
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Sammy,
I know that I've been away from home for a long time now, and I'm sorry. My, you must be big now! You were just starting to crawl when I went away. I'm writing this letter so that you'll remember who I am once we are re-united. You make sure that your mom has a picture of me right over your bed so that you see me every night before bed time.
I'm deployed here in France, fighting against those Germans. They're bad men, Sammy, and you should know that your old Dad is doing important work over here. They're sending us up to liberate the Dutch next. Probably shouldn't be telling you that in a letter, but the battle will be over by the time I send this. I'll make sure to get you some tulip bulbs and a Luger as a souvenir. They'll never know what hit 'em.
The morale here is pretty low, as are the supplies. Having plenty of good food is one of the things I miss most about home. And having a nice warm bed. We are all very miserable in the cold, wet weather of Northern France. It is also very hard to have the threat of attack hanging over our heads at every moment, knowing that the Panzers would overrun our defenses in a moment. I only wish I could come back home to America to be with you and forget all of this senseless violence. We really have no reason to be in this war at all; it seems that we are simply the lapdogs of the French and the British. Our real war is with the Japanese; they are the ones who attacked the United States.
Frankly, I think we should be *allied* with the Third Reich. It is really the Communist threat that we should fear. I only wish that we could somehow make our leaders see this. Son, you must certainly tell your mother all of these things and ensure that she talks to her neighbors and friends and family. We must all contact our politicians and tell them that this misguided war must end as soon as possible!
I hope to see you soon, son.
Signed,
Your Father.
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Hey Judy,
I know it's been a while since my last letter and I'm sorry. I honestly did try to write whenever I got the chance, but time gets away from you, you know? There's a lot I want to say and probably not a lot of time to say it.
First, I want you to know that I love you. Always have. From the moment I saw you in that red prom dress standing awkwardly by the DJ while Lindsey made out with Hank. I never thought I could get a girl like you. It helped that Lindsey was ignoring you. That softened you up for me so you agreed to that dance pretty quick. I felt bad for stepping on your toes during that dance and for doing it again at our wedding, big feet and all that. Seeing you in that gown was like prom all over again. Every time you got dressed up it felt like I was dying. My heart always stopped when I saw you, you were so beautiful.
Getting our first house was amazing too, wasn't it? I'm sorry I got the wrong paint for the living room and feel like I still owe you for helping me repaint it after you got home to your 'surprise'. My sense of color has always been off and I wouldn't be able to get dressed in the morning if it wasn't for you, or so you always told me. That made being in the military so easy, I just wear the same thing every day. Being apart from you was the hardest thing about enlisting, but I always told you I'd make it home.
I uhh, don't have much longer. I'm sorry I lied about being able to make it home. We were fighting some of the locals today, some stupid mission to recapture a bridge. Anyway's, I got shot. I'm sitting her and saying all this to the guy who shot me. He's doing a good job writing for me even though English isn't his first language. Please don't blame him. Or anyone else. He was just doing his job and so was I.
I love you. I'm sorry I won't be there for...
Sincerely,
Your husband and a sorry stranger.
| 2015-02-03T13:20:17 | 2015-02-03T12:59:38 | 202 | 20 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him.
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Mom,
Don't have too much time, we move out in 10.
Long time no see. Haven't been able to write back, they've been keeping us on our feet for the last few weeks. Tell the goobers their uncle has permission to beat them if they get into the cabinets again. Tell Heather that the fish tank needs cleaned more often if that slime keeps coming back.
I'll fix the garden when I get back, maybe I'll even bring you a souvenir.
Have Dad throw the ball for the beast, 'til one of them drops from exhaustion, it'll be good for the both of them.
Tell Grandpa we'll trade stories of these Kraut...
==================
Ma'am,
It is with a heavy heart that I must continue this letter.
On the night of [redacted] roughly twenty miles south of [redacted] your son was involved in a friendly fire incident. An enemy 105 had hit nearby, then the gas, the hellfire the bullets the chaos. It was madness, fire and bodies.
You can thank our great nation for training us well. Your son took three shots, center mass. He was down before my finger was off the trigger. It wasn't a good death, but it wasn't painful. I'll be giving him my apologies in person.
I am truly sorry,
Sgt. A. Andrews
95th Inf.
"B" company
===================
Roughly one hour after writing this, Sgt Andrews took his own life.
Taking the life of another isn't the hard part, living with yourself after is.
Cpt. C. Evans
Acting Commander of Bravo Company, 95th Infantry Division
Outside [redacted] Germany.
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My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
| 2015-02-03T15:25:05 | 2015-02-03T13:02:09 | 113 | 48 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him.
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Mom,
Don't have too much time, we move out in 10.
Long time no see. Haven't been able to write back, they've been keeping us on our feet for the last few weeks. Tell the goobers their uncle has permission to beat them if they get into the cabinets again. Tell Heather that the fish tank needs cleaned more often if that slime keeps coming back.
I'll fix the garden when I get back, maybe I'll even bring you a souvenir.
Have Dad throw the ball for the beast, 'til one of them drops from exhaustion, it'll be good for the both of them.
Tell Grandpa we'll trade stories of these Kraut...
==================
Ma'am,
It is with a heavy heart that I must continue this letter.
On the night of [redacted] roughly twenty miles south of [redacted] your son was involved in a friendly fire incident. An enemy 105 had hit nearby, then the gas, the hellfire the bullets the chaos. It was madness, fire and bodies.
You can thank our great nation for training us well. Your son took three shots, center mass. He was down before my finger was off the trigger. It wasn't a good death, but it wasn't painful. I'll be giving him my apologies in person.
I am truly sorry,
Sgt. A. Andrews
95th Inf.
"B" company
===================
Roughly one hour after writing this, Sgt Andrews took his own life.
Taking the life of another isn't the hard part, living with yourself after is.
Cpt. C. Evans
Acting Commander of Bravo Company, 95th Infantry Division
Outside [redacted] Germany.
|
Dear Josh
It's not easy writing this letter. Things are kind of getting out of hand over here. We're moving out to a new base. I'm in the truck right now. All I can hear is the engine and that shitty music Danny keeps on playing. I swear I'm going to kill that boy soon. I may not be back for another month or so. I know I promised we would go to the park again and we could go on those crappy swings before the winter set in over there. We can still go when I get back, but it might be a bit colder than the last time we went on. As soon as we finish setting up, I'll be on the first plane back I promise. I love you kiddo and I hate to do this to yo-
Josh. You do not know me and I hope it stays that way. There are no words that can describe the sorrow I feel writing this. I suppose the best thing to do would be to tell you what happened. We attacked the transport your brother was on. A lot of people died. Your brother survived. We captured a man, his name was Daniel, I think. We wanted to interrogate him, see what he knew. Your brother came back for him. We captured him too. I lost some brothers.
We tortured your brother. We wanted to know everything he knew. We killed the man in front of him. We shouldn't have done that. That was cruel. He said nothing after that. He just sat there. Silent. I've been told to kill him now. He knows it. He is ready. He wants me to tell you this:
I love you Josh, and I'm sorry. Swing high, brother. Swing high.
It is done now Josh. I hope we never meet.
Sahid-al Taraj
| 2015-02-03T15:25:05 | 2015-02-03T13:33:59 | 113 | 18 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him.
|
Mom,
Don't have too much time, we move out in 10.
Long time no see. Haven't been able to write back, they've been keeping us on our feet for the last few weeks. Tell the goobers their uncle has permission to beat them if they get into the cabinets again. Tell Heather that the fish tank needs cleaned more often if that slime keeps coming back.
I'll fix the garden when I get back, maybe I'll even bring you a souvenir.
Have Dad throw the ball for the beast, 'til one of them drops from exhaustion, it'll be good for the both of them.
Tell Grandpa we'll trade stories of these Kraut...
==================
Ma'am,
It is with a heavy heart that I must continue this letter.
On the night of [redacted] roughly twenty miles south of [redacted] your son was involved in a friendly fire incident. An enemy 105 had hit nearby, then the gas, the hellfire the bullets the chaos. It was madness, fire and bodies.
You can thank our great nation for training us well. Your son took three shots, center mass. He was down before my finger was off the trigger. It wasn't a good death, but it wasn't painful. I'll be giving him my apologies in person.
I am truly sorry,
Sgt. A. Andrews
95th Inf.
"B" company
===================
Roughly one hour after writing this, Sgt Andrews took his own life.
Taking the life of another isn't the hard part, living with yourself after is.
Cpt. C. Evans
Acting Commander of Bravo Company, 95th Infantry Division
Outside [redacted] Germany.
|
Sam-
I am, I fear, losing something. Perhaps it is lost.
Nights and days bleed together like the red mud underfoot and the sonic sludge of bugs and bullets whining and hunting for what the soil has yet to accept from us. I hardly notice it anymore. I don't know if I am glad for this.
You and Alex keep me going, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't read your letters at night. I won't tell you what hers say, that's private, and bug off if you feel I'm being schmaltzy- I just don't think I'd ever write again if I didn't have your letters to hold me up. You are the stars I wish upon at night, strewn across a sky cursed to look over this dirt and blood spectrum of a life.
Thank you for the news of Dad, I cannot say how glad I am to hear he's doing better, and that little spawn of yours looks like something too cute to have any sort of relation to your bucktoothed ass.
Anyway, I sent Alex a
Hello,
I do not know who you are, and for that I am glad and sad and shatteringly sorry all in the same moment.
I do not know you. I do not know you, and I have dealt you the saddest hand a man could hold. I am sorry. Reading his words to you renders me speechless and broken and burned as if I have ripped a star from the sky and sought to consume it.
I wish you the best and will have this letter sent to you, and I wish you to know that we are all of us victims of a monstrous and foolish necessity.
I wish you to hate me if you must, and as his words echo in my mind as they will ever-more, I shall struggle not to do the same.
Yours,
Alexander Harwick
| 2015-02-03T15:25:05 | 2015-02-03T15:21:50 | 113 | 12 |
[WP] A crazy supervillain disables the birth control of all superheroes.
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"Abortion Man To The Rescue!" called out the stranger in strange tights with a coat hanger symbol on his chest.
Powergirl almost jumped naked out of her bed. The man she was with, whom she picked up at a bar seemed to recognize this freak.
"You're too late abortion man!" said The Impregnator.
Powergirl wrapped a blanket around her voluptuous frame and stood up.
"Someone better explain what the hell is going on or I'm going to start cracking skulls!"
"This villain hath tampered with your means of contraception!" said Abortion Man, "He has bedded you with the intention of making you pregnant without your knowledge or consent!"
Powergirl turned to the man in her bed, who was bearing a Cheshire-like grin and smoking a cigarette.
"Is this true?" asked Powergirl.
"Yes it is! I am the Impregnator!"
"He has 300 outstanding paternal suits!" said Abortion Man.
Powergirl raised her fist getting ready to knock two guys out, then she stopped herself.
"Wait a second, are you human?" she asked.
"Yes," said The Impregnator.
"I'm not," said Powergirl as she turned to Abortion Man and explained, "I'm a Kryptonian. I don't use contraception. It's impossible for a human to make me pregnant."
Suddenly the Impregnator looked deflated and said, "Oh, uhhh, well... you have pretty big boobs so I figured it was worth a shot. And it was!"
|
Breaking into a Hero's home was easier than one might think. Their masks, secret identities, and their powers gives them a sense of security. Still, if one is trained to blend into a crowd, it is easy to tail someone even if they can hear your heartbeat a block away.
What did I do with this skill? Kill them in their sleep? Too impractical. Most of the Hero's were almost invincible, and it was too risky to test if that held true while they slept. Testing weaknesses was also too risky. If I wanted to do that, I'd fight them in the street and lose light everybody else. Taking them out of commission took a certain other kind of finesse. After finding where they lived, I'd scope the place and wait for them to leave. Then I'd break in and go for the medicine cabinet. It was the most common place, and nine out of ten times i found the condoms. I poked a hole in each one with a needle in my pocket. For the female Heroes, I dumped their pills in the toilet and replaced them with similar looking sugar pills.
A year later, almost every Hero quit. Juggling their lives were too difficult, so they quit to take care of their children. Crime ran rampant through the city, and they all had me to thank for it. I knew that my fame in the criminal underworld would be short lived. Eventually the kids would grow up, and the problem for criminals would be twice as bad. For now though, it was amazing, and in my line of work I may be dead by the time the brats can fight, so it was of little concern to me.
| 2015-05-28T10:18:24 | 2015-05-28T08:17:14 | 97 | 56 |
[WP] A crazy supervillain disables the birth control of all superheroes.
|
"Abortion Man To The Rescue!" called out the stranger in strange tights with a coat hanger symbol on his chest.
Powergirl almost jumped naked out of her bed. The man she was with, whom she picked up at a bar seemed to recognize this freak.
"You're too late abortion man!" said The Impregnator.
Powergirl wrapped a blanket around her voluptuous frame and stood up.
"Someone better explain what the hell is going on or I'm going to start cracking skulls!"
"This villain hath tampered with your means of contraception!" said Abortion Man, "He has bedded you with the intention of making you pregnant without your knowledge or consent!"
Powergirl turned to the man in her bed, who was bearing a Cheshire-like grin and smoking a cigarette.
"Is this true?" asked Powergirl.
"Yes it is! I am the Impregnator!"
"He has 300 outstanding paternal suits!" said Abortion Man.
Powergirl raised her fist getting ready to knock two guys out, then she stopped herself.
"Wait a second, are you human?" she asked.
"Yes," said The Impregnator.
"I'm not," said Powergirl as she turned to Abortion Man and explained, "I'm a Kryptonian. I don't use contraception. It's impossible for a human to make me pregnant."
Suddenly the Impregnator looked deflated and said, "Oh, uhhh, well... you have pretty big boobs so I figured it was worth a shot. And it was!"
|
As I step out of the Shadow and into the bathroom I pause to look around. The room was a bit on the small side for a master bath. The shower curtain caught my eye first, the very tacky Blue Bolt curtain matched the even tackier Blue Bolt towels and soap dispenser.
A fan? the real deal? I don't know and don't care. The Oracle was paying me 10k to switch out a box of condoms with an identical box that he supplied. As I open the medicine cabinet I compare the two boxes. Both are open, the tear pattern looks similar and both are missing three packets.
My watch beeps at me and I step back into the Shadows, seconds later A door opens in the main apartment. Curious I pause a second. I hear muffled laughter. and moments later a muscular man opens the bathroom door heading for the cabinet I just closed. Female giggling echos from the main room.
I step further into the Shadow and away from the apartment. I have no idea how the Oracle know these things. He claims that all he does is advanced probability calculation but I've never known him to be wrong on even the smallest details.
My watch beeps again and I make my way to a small bar. I have 30 seconds to step out of Shadow next to the bar walk three meters forward, drop a pill into a statuesque woman's drink and then step back into Shadow two meters further. With this I'm another 5k richer.
The pill was stolen earlier in the day from a small biotech firm doing fertility research and netted me 5k.
The Oracle says he has more tasks for me throughout this entire month and If they're all as easy and profitable as this one I might just sign on full time.
| 2015-05-28T10:18:24 | 2015-05-28T10:01:31 | 97 | 15 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story.
|
As a young man in Delphi, Gouliélmos generally rushed through lessons with his tutors in order to run outside and wrestle and throw javelins and race chariots. As a result, his standing in the academy was low, but at sport he had few equals, and this gave him great confidence and arrogance.
One day, Dionysus and Hermes, bored, descended Mount Olympus disguised as mortals and found Gouliélmos wrestling with his friends. As they arrived, Gouliélmos had just defeated one of them, and declared boastfully, "I am the greatest wrestler in western Delphi! No two of you at once could defeat me." Dionysus and Hermes stepped forward and engaged Gouliélmos, defeating him handily, and while Hermes sought only to win, Dionysus tore into his flesh.
When Gouliélmos returned home that night, his mother nearly fainted at his wounds. "You've been wrestling outside the academy again!" she cried. "And now you stagger in here half-dead, covered in blood! Delphi is no place for you. I am sending you to Byblos, where you will live with my sister Maria and her husband Philippos. There is no wrestling in Byblos."
Despondent, Gouliélmos booked passage on a carriage. When it arrived, his mood was briefly lifted by its unusual decorations, with dangling baubles and fresh paint. Though he did not know it, Hermes, who was feeling guilty for Gouliélmos' injuries, was driving the carriage. Gouliélmos, unaware of this and remembering his exile from Dephi, forgot his relief and told Hermes, "To Byblos."
Arriving in Byblos, Gouliélmos felt his spirits lift once more. Delphi was and always would be his home, but Byblos was beautiful, clean, and wealthy beyond anything he knew existed. Around 7 or 8 in the evening, his carriage pulled up in front of a grand palace of white marble. "If I must live here in exile from Delphi," thought Gouliélmos, "I shall make the most of it. My every chair shall be a throne, and I shall live as a prince."
And so went the story of the Fresh Prince of Byblos.
Edit: Gilded :o thanks!
|
Kimberly was a lower goddess, a dying breed oft forgotten in favor of the major gods.
Born from the loins of two once-powerful gods, she had hope in her heart that she would one day rise beyond even their fame. With her beauty, she believed she deserved something more. Something grand.
So she toiled, working underneath a goddess who teased her to no end. Yet she pursued, learning their secrets and slowly but surely working her way up through their ranks. And then she had an idea.
“If my beauty is my shining asset,” she proclaimed, “I will show the world and they will love me for that.”
So she devised a brilliant plan – bewitch a god of sports and copulate on the highest mountain, Internet. There, she would give the show of her life under the guise of being unaware of anyone watching. Little did they know, she was the master behind the entire session.
And when Kimberly had reached orgasm, all the men across the land took notice of her. She snuck into their prayers, filling them with dreams of lust. In response, her number of follows increased a hundredfold over night.
She had reached a new level of godhood.
But Kimberly’s quest was far from done. Her next goal was simple – rise even further. And she did, continually staying in the eyes of those who loved her as she made one terrible mistake after another. Her form changed, growing even more beautiful.
After years of working, she found another way to increase her followers. She married Kayne of the West, a god lauded for his unique music. Despite his massive ego and her manipulative ways, the two found solace in each other. They were compatible for each other and would remain that way until they died.
Kimberly had a child with Kayne, a young girl who would not only inherit the Western Lands from her father but also the North, gifted by her mother. Thus, she was known to the people as “North West”, her true name hidden away in the annals of history. Legend has it, those who speak it inherit her limitless power.
Kimberly and Kayne took North West and locked her away, fearful of what the people who would do to expose her true nature. Still, they loved her as much as parents could. Kimberly spoke of her every movement while Kayne sung from the heavens of her beauty. The family of three had done it. They had taken the world by storm and gained everyone’s attention.
And thus is the story of Kimberly, a goddess of meager backgrounds who became one of the most powerful goddesses of all time.
| 2015-06-10T10:25:42 | 2015-06-10T07:06:32 | 730 | 158 |
[WP] You wake up in a locked room with only a book and a pen. The first page tells you that you now have the power to alter all reality outside the room by writing. However, the reality you create is the one you walk out to forever. You have an hour.
|
Surely this is just another test. After all of the mind games, Jack knew better than to fall for their tricks, but what was the right answer here? He didn't even know if he still wanted to be an operator for the agency, but he wasn't going to just give up. They all longed for an excuse to confront the USSR in conventional battle, so how about a tactical nuke?
Jack pulled the cap off the pen and began to write. He couldn't see the cameras, but he knew they were watching every word he wrote.
"A Russian submarine launches a nuclear missile at the White House."
A tremendous roar shook the whole room.
"Impressive!" Jack said aloud as his eyes scanned the walls for some indication of the speaker system. He could even hear the faint screams of people in the distance.
He wasn't surprised that they had that audio file on hand. It was pretty standard, along with the dogs barking and babies crying. What about dinosaurs though?
"Dinosaurs are awakened by the nuclear war and begin to emerge from the ground like tulips in spring."
Jack listened closely. Sure enough, they had dinosaur sounds as well! This could be fun, he thought to himself. "What audio file don't they have," he wondered.
He put the pen to paper once again.
"Aliens see the mushroom clouds from outer space and land in the United States. They tame the velociraptors and pterodactyls and mount lasers to their heads. They now have a formidable land force and air force to wage war against the survivors."
Sure enough, Jack heard the sounds of lasers and a whirring which could only be a space ship!
He had a moment of doubt...
"what if this was real? No. No. It's just another test." He said to himself.
But what if it wasn't a test? He only had 5 minutes left. What couldn't they replicate? And that's when he had an idea.
"There is no gravity."
Immediately, Jack felt his ass leave his seat. The table floated up as his stomach sank in terror. How could they replicate this? He had one minute left to make it right. He grabbed the paper and began to write, but to his horror, the ink refused to flow.
30 seconds left. Jack floated in fear. He remembered visiting the Smithsonian Museum before his interview. He remembered laughing at the guy who payed $10 for a "Space Pen" used by astronauts... guaranteed to work in zero gravity.
|
O man. What I'm doing in this room?
OK, I already know what it is about - I should write a new reality? Let's do this.
Drugs that don't kill. No mafias. Sex with emotions, love, a lot of love. I imagine the old lady that I saw crossing the street yesterday at the 6th avenue. Her red rock had the hole that discovered her leg. The lips ends were going down. Her grey hair was flying 5,32cm above her head. New reality - She will have a new rock. Her grey hairs will fly only 3,12 cm above her head. I now see her smiling. That's good.
What with all the poor? The man I saw sleeping on the ground 2 weeks ago while going to work. Sadly I had a meeting, otherwise I could help him. Fuck, I only have an hour. I need to hurry up.
Let's write:
"All the needed will be less needed."
What causes people that they are in need - I asked myself? Maybe it is too petty to deal with right now.
I cross the sentence and write fast and in big letters.
"NO WARS".
Fuck, but what otherwise.
"NO VIOLENCE. NO PHYSICAL AND FISICAL VIOLENCE"
My forehead is getting warm, I feel tears creating on it. My body is sweating.
God, I didn't think it well be so difficult to write new reality.
Maybe bad things have its sense. Maybe we need it. Remember the small boy in the supermarket supporting his mother involved in the fight? I saw it on liveleak lately. This small poor boy, he behaved bad. But on the other side how else could he behave.
New reality, man - I don't want to change anything - just give me a beer.
The clock on the wall was moving. I look to the left and to the right. The room is so white. Nothing inside. Only a book and a pen. I sit on the ground. Luckily the ground is warm enough my buttocks are not cooling.
I remember my grandfather told me "这是一个恶作剧" what means 'In the good is bad and in the bad is good" So if I create good there will always exist bad. Man, I'll leave the book empty and let life create itself.
It was so difficult.
edit: English not my naive language, sorry.
Please spend gold money to other donations and people who need money most!
| 2015-06-21T13:20:47 | 2015-06-21T13:15:49 | 59 | 17 |
[WP] A man who has had no knowledge of religion meets both God and the Devil. He is the chosen one who decides whether God or the Devil inherits the Earth. The problem is, he cannot tell which is which.
|
ORDER *Freedom*
STABILITY *Change*
ETERNITY *Eternity*
YOU WOULD KILL A MOTHER TO SAVE A CHILD. *I wouldn't interfere.*
NO LAW, NO FOUNDATION, NO FAMILY.
*No oppression! No chains! No bonds!*
**The beings argued. Constantly. If words were solid man would suffocate in this tomb.**
I CREATED THEM. MADE THEM PERFECT *I gave them fire, I gave them life*
YOU STOLE THEM FROM ME *I freed them*
YOU MADE THEM MORTAL *I did*
YOU GAVE THEM FLAWS *They made their own flaws*
THEY PRAISE ME, MONUMENTS, LAWS, SOCIETY *They worship me, Art, Passion, Lust.*
**They were unaware of him. He watched.**
GREED, VIOLENCE, HATE. THESE WERE NOT MINE TO GIVE. *And doesn't that make it more interesting?*
YOU HAVE CREATED SUFFERING. *I have created drama.*
FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT YOU WATCH THEM STRANGLE LOVERS, CHEAT STRANGERS, TEMPT THEM INTO BETRAYING WHAT THEY STAND FOR.
*For your own ego you made them praise you, forced them into little boxes and habits, stagnated, punished.*
**And they could not see him. Opposing each other in all things, they were oblivious to their creation among them. And he, like all others before him, walked between them.**
**Man embraced them, and the world went dark.**
**And then there was a light.**
**And then there was a cry.**
|
I was running late again. This was the third time in a row. I didn't want people at the office to think I was making a habit of it, but I have been having a terrible time trying to sleep the past few days. Having dreams, or nightmares, that I can't remember. Waking up in cold sweats in my bed. I should probably look on WebMD or something, might have to change my diet up.
It was an hour past my starting shift when I finally get into my office. I knew what was coming. Like an early jaws movie I felt the suspense raising as I waited for the crescendo. My boss was going to pop up out of no where and eat me alive. As I looked into my monitor I saw her reflection. I was busted.
"You're late again, I see." she muttered.
"I'm sorry, but-" I turned around.
"Not now, We have two Engineers with their own ideas and designs." She interrupted, before I could make up and excuse. " I'm going to need you to review and decide which would be most beneficial, they are in the conference room."
I promptly made my way into the conference room. There I would be bored to death by slide show presentation of each ones thoughts, ideas, and believes. While I knew that the entire time I was just going to be fighting off sleep.
Inside the conference room there was a long, black wooden table. At each end was one of the hopeful designers. At one end, a man with a serious face in a black suit, classic. On the other end, a man who was wearing a grin and a white suit. I couldn't believe that everything that was to be would be determined by my decision here. Hopefully I can sleep on it.
| 2015-08-05T19:29:31 | 2015-08-05T19:03:21 | 874 | 12 |
[WP][TT] It's almost your 16th birthday, and your parents congratulate you. But they warn you that you may have inherited something from the family line that may appear the moment you turn 16. If you do inherit, you have to continue a long family tradition.
|
Nothing happened on my birthday, aside from the usual festivities. Heck, for most of the year nothing happened. The family legacy, mysterious as it was, had apparently passed me by, or so I thought.
It was January of the next year, about two months before my 17th birthday, that something interesting finally happened:
I could hear people's thoughts.
It was quiet, at first. I'd probably been doing it for a while without even realizing it, knowing their thoughts on a subconscious level before I could actually hear them. Sometimes they were thinking so loudly I could actually hear them, like they were talking aloud.
They didn't believe me, I knew they didn't because of course I could hear their thoughts now. Even though I hadn't told them, I knew they didn't believe me.
But my family? Well, they'd all but told me this would happen. I knew that if anyone would believe me, they would.
So, once the thoughts of others became so loud I could barely stand them, I went to my mother and told her, and she wept with joy, because I'd inherited the family legacy.
There was another celebration, of sorts. My father, who I hadn't seen in years, actually attended. I even got to see my Grandfather, which was a special treat, as he lived in a retirement home upstate and I'd never gotten to visit.
They weren't as excited as mom had been. They didn't really want to talk about my gift - their gift, if I understood the purpose of the celebration correctly. They looked uncomfortable, in fact.
Finally, someone I didn't recognize at all arrived. My dad and granddad obviously knew him, but my mother could barely stand to be in his presence. He sat down in a chair that, I now realized, had been set aside specifically for him.
"Hello," he said to me. "I'm Dr. Heymitch. I've been working with your family for years." He glanced toward my father.
My father just shrugged. "No point in holding back, tell him what you do."
Dr. Heymitch nodded. "I'm a psychiatrist. I specialize in the diagnosis and treatment of early-onset schizophrenia"
|
Ever since I was 16, things have been strange. My family is... unique, I guess. They choose one child out of every couple that has children to bear the responsibility I have. They choose honest, loyal children for this gift. I was never able to lie, I always told the truth. I also never thought about betraying anyone. My brother was different, he lies like a sleeping dog on Saturday. He isn't bad per say, but he was not chosen. The day I turned 16, my wings started growing in. It took a whole year for them to fully develop, but I was able to fly short distances around the eighth month. I would do flips and tricks for my brother. My wings looked just like my father's, brown feathers tinged with red and fawn like spots of white.
My brother was always jealous about my gift, but I was able to do something great today, I was able to lift him. We slowly rose into the air, just above the roof tops before I had to stop. We live in a rural area, so it wasn't to high. I placed him back on the ground and rested, my wings tired.
My dad saw everything, and quickly took me inside. He told me I would have to be more responsible with my brother, and be careful around others. He explained something to me that I will never forget. He told me about our first great ancestor, Ymir the Wolf.
Ymir had been given the gift of the wings by the elder gods, and was to protect as many humans as she could. Nobody knew why she was called Ymir the Wolf. When Ymir took in an apprentice, and later adopted him, she transferred the gift of the wings to him. He carried it on to his child, etc. It could only be given to one child, because if all children received the wings, there would be too many.
One of the elder gods hated mankind, and tried to make them turn against each other, and didn't like that the other elder gods tried to keep humanity safe. He would whisper into the ears of man, creating bigotry, hated, and plague wherever he went. He had disciples who believed him to be the only God. These disciples would try to kill any winged human they came across.
My dad gave me a sword that day. He forged it himself. I still fight with it to this day.
| 2015-11-28T08:37:04 | 2015-11-28T08:32:34 | 103 | 11 |
[WP] Human meat is considered a delicacy for the rich. You're a human in a farm
|
Apparently the place that we were at was called a farm. Of course, it seems a bit unappealing to be seen as nothing but a farm animal- but that's only what we look like to the unenlightened.
Believe it or not, all of us had chosen to be here, for one reason or another. John from across the way came from a poor family, and had never had enough to eat before. At the farm, or Castle as we like to call it, we always had plenty to eat. Granted, it was all vegetarian, but I would expect nothing less- it would be much too inefficient to spend the time and money to grow other livestock to feed us.
To each of us, for our own reasons, Castle was a paradise. If we ever have the urge to leave, we may, though we must pay off the Patron's kindness in one way or another.
I chose to leave once, but the world outside was not to my liking. Twisted landscapes of ash and thorn, with smoke clouds ever present in the distance and the acidic haze of pollution in the air. All the world had been like Castle, once- but man took too much, and so the earth was sundered.
Or at least, so the Patron tells us.
The young ones the Patron leaves us always ask me about Outside of the wall. With a laugh and a pat on the head, I tell them they can always go and look one day.
But as I hobble away, my scarred back and missing leg serve as a reminder of the ever-growing Price of leaving.
And yet, more and more, it seems that people are choosing to leave overnight, without telling their family and friends, to search the world beyond.
Of course, I would never doubt the patron. But it does surprise me that I'm the only one in recent history who ever came back, the only one who seems to serve as a reminder of the Price of leaving.
As far as I have seen, my Price has been the highest of any yet.
So why are more going?
Perhaps it's just human curiosity. Or perhaps...
|
Ascension is the highest goal.
*So it is taught: All who are born will ascend. None but God knows one's day of ascension. Those who ascended receive salvation and enjoy eternal happiness in the kingdom of heaven.*
Lucy was woken up at 7am just like every other day of her life since she was 4.
**groan** "Morning Daisy", she sleepily greeted her roommate. Lucy was not a morning person. She battled every single sunrise to complete the necessary daily morning ritual:
1. Eat your nutrient supplement.
2. Brush your teeth and floss.
3. 5-Minute-Shower.
4. Measure and record your weight.
5. Read the mandatory daily memo.
Lucy secretly wished the showers could last a little longer but she knew the water dispensing buttons worked only twice per person per day - once in the morning and once after the necessary daily exercise ritual in the evening. Lucy and Daisy used to cheat the system where the second person would simply activate the shower with their fingerprint after 5 minutes and then the first one gets to shower for a luxurious 5 extra minutes. This morning, however, was not like all the other mornings. This morning, Lucy's daily memo was different.
"Picked for ascension". Lucy's lips mouthed the words. "Picked for ascension". She kept silently repeating it, not fully comprehending the magnitude of the message. "Hey Lucy, what does the memo say today?", Daisy was drying her hair from the shower.
"My memo says 'Picked for Ascension'... I..."
"Lucy! I don't believe it! You've made it! You're going heaven!!"
Daisy couldn't contain herself, she danced over to her roommate and embraced her.
"It's your time! Your time has arrived!"
Lucy still couldn't believe it. It's true, it was her 16th birthday 3 months ago. Most people ascended at 18 but some, usually girls, ascended a bit earlier. Few ascended much earlier than 17 and nobody before the age of 16 has been known to ascend. Lucy, at 16 and 3 months, was the first from her class to be picked.
| 2015-12-20T15:38:08 | 2015-12-20T13:02:23 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] Tell the story of a dog who lives in, but doesn't understand, the zombie apocalypse.
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I'm a good dog. When the stinking men attacked my owner I pounced on him, straight for the throat. The most awful taste filled my mouth--like steak's blood but worse. It knocked him to the floor but he got up with half his throat in my mouth. Things aren't meant to do that.
But my owner is a good human, she knew what to do. When the stinking one pulled itself onto is hind legs she raised her metal stick and swung at the back of his head, hard. Again and again until its blood spilled out the back. And then it was still.
We didn't have much water left but she gave a lot of it to me, washed out my mouth until I couldn't taste the stinking blood. She led me to a house. It smelled like it might have had a dog in it once but I never saw one. We slept there tonight. My owner's so good she let me sleep in the bed with her tonight. The bed smells dusty but I'm so comfy, it's much better than the floor we slept on last night.
I don't know why we travel so much now, or why I have to fight but my owner's with me and she's the best human in the world. She's the only one that smells right, anyway.
|
I remember a time when I couldn't stand the smell of humans. They looked nice and all, so shiny and moist.
The smell though, it burned my eyes, my nostrils. Stuff would arrive in fancy glass bottles. The bottles would make the same sound as a cat. I didn't like that. *Hiss! Hiss!* followed by a noxious odor, filling the air, and my human lady would walk through its cloud, baptizing herself, and push me out of her way.
One day she came home with a whole bunch of larger hissing containers, attached them to almost every wall, at just my height. Then I lived in a jungle of them, hissing and spitting droplets as I passed by, causing my senses to revolt in searing pain.
Then magically, those nasty smells started to disappear. I think my humans were affected by this; they started to move much slower than normal. They stopped petting me and feeding me, but I didn't care, that evil stench was gone. And what replaced it was better.
Everywhere, people started to smell good. I wanted to roll myself all over them. Oils and fluids ran down their legs and I'd rub up against them, coating myself in their splendor. Sure, life is rough now, scrounging for my food, but at least my world smells good and nobody pushes me away when I rub up against them.
| 2016-03-08T22:48:31 | 2016-03-08T21:40:47 | 91 | 26 |
[WP] Superpowers can now be torrented. You were 70% of the way through torrenting a power you've always wanted when the download stops.
|
Metal boxes were stacked haphazardly, their lights blinking and mechanical noises whirring. The room was dark and dank with the smell of body odor lying stagnant in the air and heavy breaths joining the tranquil symphony of computers.
70%. The icon continued to spin, as it had for the past 13 hours. 70%.
A lanky woman, her hair oily from fingers and nails chewed from teeth, was curled in a worn leather office chair. She blinked at the monitor, bagged eyes unfocused until an error window popped up: Insufficient Memory.
Her spine straightened from a slouch with a crack. White danced across her vision as her chair rolled and spun to face another monitor, fingers sweeping across the interface. Fuck. FUCK. This couldn't be happening, not now. She wanted, needed this. It was supposed to be hers.
It would be HERS.
They wouldn't take this away from her. They wouldn't be allowed to keep this away from her.
The woman opened folders, dragging and dropping various programs, documents, even family photos into the trash bin, hoping to free space up. Foolishly she had not even considered a download of this proportion would require as much memory as her computers could provide rather than what had merely been available.
It was a superpower, after all. Her superpower, and she only settled for the grandest and best of them all.
With a forced breath, the download restarts. From the beginning. A strained smile graced her chapped lips. She would wait. She would wait and then it'd be hers. They wouldn't stop her from claiming what would be hers.
Distantly she wondered if somebody noticed that a superpower had somehow been buried in the depths of a torrent site. A glitch? A human error? She didn't bother to dwell on the hows and whys, as long as she'd get what she want. Her mother and father had always taught her that that the results were what mattered, not the means.
Her parents had raised her up to be on top, and They thought They could just throw her parents in a shit hole for only taking what's rightfully theirs. She hadn't seen them in years and couldn't even find where her parents were locked up by Them.
For the next 13 hours she watched as the download bar creeps back up. 68%. She hummed pleasantly with the whirs of the computers and the fans working nonstop to keep the hardware cool. She didn't even notice the smell anymore.
69%. The sound of wood cracking and thumping to the ground, followed shortly by heavy footfalls and barked orders. The woman can't move. There's no window in her room, no escape.
Doors were flung open one by one followed shortly by “All clear!”s. Her hand slipped into her pocket, wrapping around cold steel. Her door burst open. She froze in her chair, eyes wide and palms sweaty.
Bright blue light finds her immediately, effectively blinding her from seeing its holder. She knew it was a man though, the voice, while tenor, left no argument for the gender.
She couldn't see and the words being shouted by the tenor did not register. She didn't notice the person approach until they yanked her from my chair, using their body to slam her on the hard floor. She bucked, metal flashing towards the closest exposed flesh she, but the man was stronger than her.
Her wrists were caught and the pocket knife forced out of her hand.
She noted dimly her chair had been toppled with the wheels still rolling, only to be kicked away by another faceless man. Suddenly, the world was filled with noise again.
“LE'GOVMEH!” she spat against the carpet, body struggling. The tackler adjusted his grip with each shift she made. “HOW DARE YOU! YOU'RE ONE OF THEM! ONE OF THEM! IT'S MINE! YOU'RE MINE! YOU'RE ALL GOING TO BE MINE!”
From a corner of the room comes a muttered, “Jesus Christ, she's insane.” She couldn't tell if that voice was male or female, but she'd remember. She'd show Them.
The man on top of me strategically keeps his fingers from snapping teeth and continued with the speech she had missed most of. “You will not be afforded legal council nor trial. Ma'am, you're never going to see the light of day.”
A hysterical noise, half laugh, half sob ripped its way from her throat. She didn't care what the mean man was saying, he was one of Them. And They were bad.
Blood was oozing around her teeth, but she didn't pay it mind, eyes zeroing in on a soldier approaching her computer. “DON'T TOUCH THAT!”, but cords are ripped from my computer carelessly.
The download stilled. She stared at the screen, head cranking around to stare at the screen in incredulous betrayal even as she was led out of the room in restraints. It was as if the world was mocking her.
The cord yanker looks around the room, the screams and vitriol of the detained woman muted by the walls. “70%,” she says out loud to the other occupants of the room, shock evident behind her clear visor.
The United States of America was one of many countries to become fully automated in the past 20 years, the commercial availability of supercomputers the first step for the superpower to be supported by the most advanced network the modern world had seen.
Not even the Chinese supercomputers had managed to batter their way into the US's.
And somehow the delusional daughter of forgotten terrorists had managed to stumbled across a file that would've given her total control over the US's systems. Surgical robots. Stocks. AI controlled planes and robotic soldiers fighting wars on foreign soil. Nuclear codes.
All in the hands of one woman.
The woman who would've single-handedly taken over an entire nation because of a glitch.
The soldier grimaced. No one could ever know about this.
No one could ever know about the woman who almost became a superpower.
|
*Click*
*Clickclick*
Blueish light colored my face from the screen, the only source of illumination in my room aside from the orange glare of the streetlight from outside. Link after link fell away before my mouse, leading me deeper and deeper into the net. This was my hobby, of sorts: surfing the web like a professional, as far as it would go. I fancied myself an explorer, like those of old, but instead of hidden gold on far off distant shores I sought the riches within my own home. Besides, I couldn't sleep without this little ritual. I was the conductor, and the lines of text flickering past my screen were my perfectly orchestrated lullaby.
"Hang on, what's this?" I stopped short as a window suddenly appeared in front of all of the others, unbidden. Oh, just a popup. Like I didn't have to deal with hundreds of those every day. Without thinking, I moved my mouse to hover over the little red x in the corner, but something made me stop. Despite having seen what I imagined to be more of the net than any other, this one was...new. Different.
'Full Superman Package! Experience exactly what it is like to be the man of steel!' Proclaimed the banner at the top of the window. Yawn. As if something like that was possible.
Still.
I moved my mouse away from the x and toward the button at the bottom that declared 'Click Here to Begin Download!' but I hesitated.
"...I have the best antivirus software known to man. What do I care if it is a bit seedy?" I asked aloud to no one in particular. And besides...I always was a sucker for unexplored links.
*Click*
The download began quickly, not surprising considering the time and my bandwidth. 10%...11%...ever higher, the numbers grew steadily as I watched.
*...Maybe this wasn't the best idea...*I thought.
31%...32%...
*No. Definitely not my smartest move.* I tried to click away, but immediately found that my mouse was stuck in place.
"Aw, crap." I tried pressing Ctl+alt+del, but to no avail.
65%...66%...
I reached around the back of my computer and pulled the plug, right as the counter hit 70%. I frowned in the dark. It wasn't turning back on, even after I plugged it back in.
*Guess I will just have to see what I can recover in the morning.* It was hardly a good note to end the day on, but it was far too late to fix anything now.
Perhaps tomorrow would be better.
***
When I awoke, the first thing that I noticed was that I could see. Like, *really* see. I had never needed glasses, but WOW! Everything was so crisp and clear, it was truly spectacular! My ceiling looked especially vibrant...I could see exactly where the paint roller had gone over each bump and groove.
The second thing I noticed was that the reason I could see my ceiling so well was because I was hovering about four inches away from it. With a yell, I fell out of the air and landed spread-eagle on my bed.
"What the hell?" I stared at my hand, fascinated by the detail. "I guess that torrent wasn't fake after all..." Experimentally, I gripped the corner of my bed's frame and pulled.
To my surprise the entire thing lifted as easily as if it were made of paper. I was so shocked that I nearly dropped the whole thing. As it was, I only barely caught it again before it crashed into the floor, no doubt saving me a lot of trouble in damages.
*I need to be more careful.* I thought. As cool as it was to be this powerful, it didn't take a genius to realize that it was also insanely dangerous. I would hate to hurt someone accidentally, and if I didn't watch out it wouldn't be long before I did.
I turned and floated to the door, barely noticing that my feet were scraping the floor instead of dragging me along. Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks.
*Wait, hold on,* I tried to move my hand, but nothing happened. I tried harder, this time pushing with every ounce of my newfound strength, but again I remained frozen in place. I couldn't even move my eyes. Then, all at once, my body started moving again - this time entirely outside of my control. It mimed the actions I had just attempted, but at a rate that made it appear as if I was moving in fast-forward. Pain erupted from my side as my flailing hand caught me in the ribs, and my torso was thrown bodily through the wall.
"What's going on!" I yelled as I tumbled freely through my yard.
Wait.
"The download! It stopped early!" I slammed my palm into my forehead, nearly getting knocked flat onto my back with the force of the blow. I dropped to the grass and ran back towards my front door, but suddenly found myself back where I started.
"Am I seriously rubber banding right now!?" I screamed in frustration. Twice more I snapped back to my starting location before I reached the handle and pushed inside, breaking the door off of its hinges as I did. I sprinted back to my room...and groaned.
Black smoke billowed out of my computer tower.
"No, no, no! I have to reinstall it! Something's gone wrong!" I tore away at the frame, hoping to at least salvage the hard drives, when suddenly I was attacked by another freezing fit. I watched, helpless, as flames devoured the silver discs - before my own hand shattered them as I unwillingly sped back up to normal speed.
I hung my head in my hands, defeated.
***
*Beware, criminals! For I am the mighty GLITCH! Hero of the server, master of might, I will save the world from your evil with my mighty grip - and possibly destroy everything I have ever known and loved in the process.*
*CC always welcome! If you enjoyed, check out more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs!*
| 2016-07-02T20:45:26 | 2016-07-02T18:59:39 | 86 | 12 |
[WP] Superpowers can now be torrented. You were 70% of the way through torrenting a power you've always wanted when the download stops.
|
*Wouldn't it be cool if we could control time?*
We've all asked ourselves this question before, some of us spending more time thinking about it than others. Billy had certainly entertained this idea for a while. And after much careless deliberation, his answer was YES!
It is certainly a good thing then, at least for Billy, that he grew up in a time where superpowers could simply be purchased for just nine hundred bucks. But who in their right mind would pay that exuberant fee!? It was much simpler, and cheaper, to just torrent the superpowers.
Find a torrent, click 'torrent', set upload speed to zero Mb/s, and he was on his way to acquiring the ability to control the progression of time.
The download bar raced to seventy percent then stopped. Billy waited for a while, but nothing happened. When, he went to see what the problem was, his cursor wouldn't move and his keyboard didn't seem to be functioning either.
"This piece of junk keeps freezing" Billy angrily mumbled to himself. Then he noticed it.
The clock wasn't moving. The trees outside his window were stopped mid-sway in the breeze. Time was at a standstill.
Seventy percent of the torrent seemed to have already given him the ability to stop time. The remaining thirty percent however, was the ability to resume it again.
Billy sighed. This was going to be a *long* Monday.
|
I had always wanted to be able to fly. My entire life I watched birds and wished I could be like them, so free, so majestic. Earlier today, I found some information on a forum. Apparently, you could copy the powers of others and torrent them through the Internet! It sounded too good to be true, but then I saw my friend, or rather, didn't see him. He got invisibility from the torrent. I was excited, and wanted to try it out. I logged into my computer and found the torrenting site. I knew that this wasn't exactly "legal", but it's a victimless crime - it's not like I'm stealing or anything. The download begins. I'm smiling in anticipation. 5% complete. 10% complete. I can't wait, I'm overjoyed! 35% complete. 50% complete. It's halfway done! I'm almost there! 55% 65% 68% 69% 70%. It stopped. "Perhaps it's just slowing down" I thought. After about a minute, I realized that it wouldn't go any further. Suddenly I heard sirens, and the sound of my door getting kicked down. I looked out of my bedroom window and saw 4 SWAT vans, and a helicopter circling overhead. They shined a spotlight into my window. Suddenly, I was surrounded by 8 men in riot armor. They made me put my hands up, away from the keyboard. Putting me in cuffs they said "You wouldn't download a car".
| 2016-07-02T21:01:01 | 2016-07-02T17:12:58 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] You declare to the heavens that you will never fall in love. Aphrodite herself took it as a challenge.
|
"It's been three years since I made the promise to never fall in love again. Three years since Melissa broke my heart. I uh... drank a lot. I slept a lot. And I thought about her. Sometimes. Well, no. I did that a lot, too." I paused, looking at the beautiful woman sipping coffee across the table from me. We were sitting outside, and her pale blond hair was flecked with fresh snowflakes. She looked heavenly. That was the only word for it. She had a delicate, ethereal sort of beauty, as if she didn't quite belong to this world.
"It sounds like you really cared for her," she said, her voice gentle as a song. "But please, continue."
I shrugged. "Not much more to it after we broke up. I practically fell apart. I... well I got into this habit of roaming the streets downtown. I'm not quite sure why. Looking for a purpose, maybe. Sure. Maybe I was looking for company. Someone I might bump into, in a sea of strangers. And that's exactly what happened, I guess. I ran into you. And... here we are. Telling each other our life stories over a cup of coffee."
I spread my hands toward her. She smiled.
"Anyways. I hadn't spoken to Melissa in three years. I'm doing pretty okay now, well at least I think so. But I can never forget the hurt I felt. Back then. And that's why I promised myself to never fall in love. Ever again." I paused, then added, *"Ever."* Driving the point home.
The woman nodded thoughtfully. She lifted the coffee to her lips and paused.
"Your have a tragic story, for sure. But don't you think it's beautiful in a way? A classic tale of the cycle of love and heartbreak! Just wonderful." She laughed, and took a sip.
"Is my story amusing to you?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. I wanted to be angry at her, but it was hard when she practically looked like an angel.
"I'm sorry," she said, still laughing. "But I don't believe that you've made a promise that you can keep."
"Hmm." I stirred my coffee. "So what do you know about love then, huh? What makes *you* so optimistic?"
"Sweetheart," she sighed. "I know all about love... because I *am* love. Or rather you could say, the embodiment of love." I caught a twinkle in her eye.
"You haven't asked me my name yet, you know. Too caught up in that little spiel of yours, I suppose." She smiled playfully.
My cheeks somehow felt hot although it was freezing outside. "Ah... you're right. I'm sorry, I uh... haven't been on a date in a while. Ah... what was your name?"
"Why, I am Aphrodite, the goddess of love."
"Aphrodite!" I laughed. Alright. I could play along. "Okay, I'll call you Aphrodite. I guess you *really* think of yourself as a love expert, yeah?"
"I do," she said, her face completely serious. I couldn't tell if she was messing with me or not. "Which is why I know that you have a chance at love. You're young, handsome, a bit awkward perhaps..." she teased, "But charmingly so. You have a *delightfully* complicated love life. Truly, truly fascinating. But! Not a hopeless one. No, not at all."
"I'm sorry," I said, draining the last dregs of my coffee. "But I've given up on love. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise."
"Take a chance," she said, smiling. "Come back here, tomorrow. 12:30. And I'll change your mind." She winked, and before I could say anything, she was gone.
I mean, literally gone. No smoke, or flash of light. I checked underneath the table, around the café, outside on the street. Nope. Gone. She had just blinked into nonexistence in front of me, leading me to wonder if she had ever even been real.
"Aphrodite, huh?" I muttered. It was crazy, but I think I actually believed her.
---
I looked at my watch. 12:40. "Aphrodite" was nowhere to be seen. Okay. I decided to go order some coffee. I stood and went inside the café. A swirl of snow followed me through the door.
"How's it feel out there?" The barista behind the counter. I looked up, startled. She was cute: dark, wavy hair and green eyes. Around my age.
"Hmm. Beach weather," I said lightly. She laughed. It was a nice sound.
"Hey, your hot date isn't with you today?" she asked, leaning over the counter, looking left and right.
"She was supposed to-" I stopped and looked down at my watch. 12:43. Almost fifteen minutes late. "Yeah, nope. I don't think she's coming."
"Aww," said the barista, smiling. "That's too bad. Probably shouldn't have suggested going to the beach." There was a hint of laughter in her eyes.
"Wow," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You're a cheeky one." She grinned.
We both jumped as the man behind me loudly cleared his throat.
"Oh... sorry, sir." He glared at me. "I'll um... have a latte please," I said, turning back to the barista, who actually looked embarrassed. I counted out the money and handed it to her. She took it, scribbled something on my receipt, handed it back to me with the change.
"What's this? Your credit card number?" I said, squinting at the receipt. She rolled her eyes. "It's my phone number, dummy."
I frowned in mock disappointment. "Aww, damn it," I muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. She laughed. "Come again!" she yelled as I walked away. I couldn't help but smile as I looked down at the seven numbers scrawled hastily across the paper. I'd have to remember to make fun of her handwriting next time I saw her.
I looked up and a woman waved at me from outside the window.
"Aphrodite!" I said, as I pushed open the door. I had a million questions in my mind.
"Last time... you just disappeared... how did-"
"I told you who I was," she said, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself. "Did you doubt me?"
"Actually yes." But I decided to drop the topic. It hurt my head too much to think about. "Anyways, you're here!"
"Of course I'm here," she said, and winked knowingly. "Never going to fall in love again, huh?" I turned to the window and caught the barista's eye. She quickly looked away, cheeks flushed.
"Oh shut up," I grumbled, turning back to Aphrodite. "It was just a talk. Love doesn't- it doesn't just happen like that." Then I froze in my tracks. "Wait a minute... *you* arranged that? *You* made that girl talk to me?"
"I didn't make anything happen, my dear." The goddess of love smiled at me. "I just made sure you were in the right place at the right time. As in... right at the beginning of her shift. Say, did you remember to ask for the girl's name this time?"
My heart dropped like a stone. "Damn it!" I yelled.
|
I can't remember exactly when I decided I never wanted to fall in love. It might have been the third or fourth time my parents came to physical blows over something as stupid as who was supposed to feed the fish, or maybe it was when my older sister magically reappeared at our doorstep after running away six months previously. Incredibly pregnant and completely broke, we found out that her genius boyfriend had simultaneously bet *on* the the slowest horses on the track and *against* the motility of his own sperm when unhindered by condoms. He lost both bets, and kicked my sister out of his apartment soon after. Throughout my childhood, these were the people who defined what "love" meant to me. I still remember how my mother would kiss the cartoonishly large bump on my father's head that she herself had caused and tell him how she would never do it again. I can still recall word for word the declarations of my sister's undying love that she left every week to her ex's answering machine. It really was fucking pathetic.
My stellar upbringing resulted in me being completely uninterested in the idea of loving someone or being in a relationship - what was the point of it anyway? I spent my entire childhood reading or playing video games. I can't even count how many times someone has asked if I had Asperger's. There's nothing wrong with me, I just hate people. In my experience they've all either been self serving assholes or pathetic assholes serving the self serving assholes. Basically, everyone is a fucking asshole.
Oh yeah, fast forward twenty two years to the present day - why was *this* fucking asshole staring at me? Standing only a few feet away and surrounded by guys who quite literally stopped in their tracks as they were walking by, she somehow seemed physically brighter than everything else around her. She was completely overdressed for a trip to the mall (but then again this is 2016 so I wasn't even surprised), wearing a short and tightly fitting red dress that just screamed "respect me for my intellect". Her long brown hair swooped majestically around her face with one strand falling perfectly over her hazel eyes, prompting her to lift up a slender hand to push it away every few minutes.
*Wait.. did I just use the word "majestically" and "perfectly" in describing a woman? What the hell is going on..*
She giggled as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and gestured for me to come up to her.
My legs automatically started moving but I forced them to stop. *Alright she's probably just a prostitute trying to make some money off of the socially awkward man who went to the mall by himself. Just. Walk. Away.* I turned around and headed off in the opposite direction of her - suddenly it felt like I was wading through quicksand. Just as I rounded a corner I stopped dead in my tracks. The same woman was sitting by the fountain, her long legs crossed in such a way that her dress rode up just a little too high. She met my gaze with light hearted indignation, as if she was surprised a man had resisted her charm. She smiled and gestured for me to come over again. Now I really started to panic. Was she trying to distract me while an accomplice robbed me? I frantically checked my pockets to make sure my wallet was still there. When I looked back she was no longer smiling. She seemed almost disappointed in herself, but the look in her eyes scared the absolute shit out of me. Something told me this was a woman nobody ever wanted to piss off. She stood up and walked over to me, casually squeezing between a college aged couple. I swear the poor guy's mouth literally fell open as she passed, and not even his girlfriend shooting daggers from her eyes could get him to look away. As she walked up to me it suddenly got very hard to breathe.
"I'm not used to walking up to guys you know, usually they come up to me" she said. Her voice had a natural rhythm that flowed seamlessly from word to word, it was as if her sentences were dancing with each other. "I think you're really cute. What's your name?"
*Yup, definitely a prostitute*
I tried to move but my legs were glued to the floor. It was as if they were no longer connected to my own brain, but rather to hers. "I'm.. uh... K-Kevin" I managed to stutter. She smiled even wider "I love that name! I'm Aphrodite"
The ridiculous nature of her name suddenly snapped me back to my senses. "Wow your parents really took a gamble with that name didn't they?" I said, laughing. "Imagine if you grew up to look like a giant cow"
*Fucking shit man, maybe I DO have Asperger's*
The entire room became so cold that I could suddenly see my breath. Her eyes flashed red, and she reached over and ran her fingers through my hair. "I want you to apologize for that" she said. Her tone hadn't changed, but for some reason I completely believed that if I didn't do what she said she could very easily rip my head off. "I-I'm s-s-sorry!" I gasped. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Something about this woman was seriously wrong. "Be very careful what you say about me" she whispered. She was just as beautiful as she had been before, but something was different now. She seemed completely inhuman - her face could have been a mask. It was only when I started seeing spots that I realized I still couldn't breathe. The last thing I remember before I blacked out is seeing that college kid still staring open mouthed at this woman while his girlfriend walked away crying. Something very strange was going on here..
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I only realized that I might have gone too far when his eyes rolled back into his head. Damn it, I really need to keep my temper in check. As soon as I let go, Kevin slumped over and collapsed onto the floor. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, I turned around to see what the damage was - luckily it was almost closing time, and the mall was mostly empty. It didn't seem like anyone else had seem him pass out, except... - ah. That athletic boy was still staring at me, naturally, but I could take care of that quite easily. I walked over and stroked his cheek with my fingers "You didn't see anything here did you?" His eyes glazed over "Absolutely not, ma'am".
*Ma'am?? How old does he think I am??*
"Leave this place and forget all of this, sweety" I said smiling. "Oh, but go jump into the fountain first" *Call me "ma'am" again, and I'll drown you in it, you little shit*
With him taken care of, I turned back to look at Kevin. So this was the man who declared he would never fall in love? Ugh, honestly he's doing the world a favor. Hardly 5 feet 8 inches, slightly overweight, and a patchy beard to go with it. Honestly if I had known *this* was what he looked like I never would have taken it upon myself to make him fall in love. And yet...
I was still trying to understand how he resisted my charm when I first asked him to come closer to me. I suppose there could be some fun in getting him to fall in love. It's been a while since I've found anyone worth pursuing. Who knows? Maybe I'll discover that there's more to people than meets the eye, and that true beauty is on the *inside*. I chuckled to myself. Ugly people really were pathetic in their self validation. Maybe this could end up being fun..
| 2016-08-06T22:56:10 | 2016-08-06T22:22:24 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances.
|
Eight hour work day. Come home via transport, play video games, make dinner. Go to sleep.
Wake up.
Rinse and repeat.
He wasn't the smartest person in high school. He got his diploma, he got out of there, out of the *system* that he had always detested, watched as the honours students all went to university.
He worked every day. It was a nice job, relatively: it wasn't too horrid, not like retail had been when he was going to school, and it kept food on the table.
Eight hour work day. Bus home. Bit of Dota. Eat dinner. Sleep, wake up.
Again and again. He wasn’t even paying attention any more, he couldn’t remember what he had done yesterday, the weekends were a blur of drinking alone. Was the life of his old acquaintances like this?
No, he reminded himself. They had friends. They made friends.
He had friends, once, didn’t he? Back in school. Right. Wonder what happened to them.
Work. Bus. Game. Eat. Sleep? Get up.
He sat beside a woman on the bus. About his age, tall, beautiful.
“Hi.”
Good going. He’s not worth anything, he’s so awkward, intimidated by the idea of having human contact outside his workplace. What a failure. Waste of life.
She blushes and turns away, a little bit, then looks at him. “Hello.”
They talk, for a few minutes, before the bus stops. He gets her name - Libitina. She says it’s latin, her parents were rather into history. He doesn’t really care. She gives him her number, and gets off.
Work for a few hours. Take the bus home, but she isn’t there, that’s all right, she said she had a very time consuming job. He turns on the television. Shooting in a mall downtown.
He locks his door.
Dinner is good. It has a little more flavour, today, perhaps. But he doesn’t notice, and he goes to bed.
Wake up.
He sees her on the bus again, and he sits beside her. They talk a little - she’s into philosophy. Him? He’s into … well, not much. She recommends writing, he remembers he enjoyed it when he was in school. Makes a mental note to get some paper that his notes can be physical.
He works, and his boss tells him to go home early, you worked hard today.
She’s on the phone and they talk, him sitting in front of his computer, looking up writing guides. There was this story he always wanted to write, he remembers now, and it gnaws at him a little. He doesn’t stop smiling until he falls asleep.
They chat on the bus again and he’s a bit worried. She doesn’t look so great, today, a bit of an ashen look tinging her features. He’d ask, but knows not to pry. Perhaps she’s ill - but she was fine yesterday.
He gets a raise. His boss pats him on the back.
They talk into the night, and he’s never felt better.
He’s never had a girlfriend before, but he’s so lonely, maybe he’s found one? Maybe he’s found *the one*. It’s odd, but he’s never felt this eager waiting for the bus.
He doesn’t see her on the bus, today. He sits beside an elderly woman, and she smiles at him. He smiles back and they talk a little bit. She’s into philosophy.
|
She didn’t like to talk to me, I could tell, and I wondered why she did it. I never asked her out loud of course, I didn’t want to mess it up. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
We had lunch by ourselves and she told me of her life. It was an ironic thing, but she was quite active. She lived in a home by the lake. An endless lake with dark waters that moved to show the million faces of the currently dying. It was always winter there, or autumn. She said she never could tell. When she was out, and she was out often, she was always caught up in some drama, some excitement.
“I always come at the end of a story,” she told me.
I laughed because I wanted her to like me. At first I thought she was insane. She called herself Death, and she meant it. Eventually, she proved it to me. And proved it, she did.
No one spoke to her, they all recoiled. I wondered why; I mean she was so beautiful. Was it intimidation? I didn’t know until she took me to her house. It was the home by the lake. It had taken me quite some time to make conversation with her and I was reeling in disbelief. From small talk to her home, I had made it with such a wonderful girl.
She told me to sit out on the porch and we ate mangoes. She liked them, was all she said. The lake was beautiful and it was cold out and the million voices floated in a winter’s chill.
“So what do you do?” she asked.
“Shouldn’t you know if you’re Death?” I asked. I was trying to play hard to get.
“I don’t concern myself with living.”
“Well I don’t do anything.” I didn’t mean to say it how I did.
She looked out to her lake and told me to come. I followed her to the edge and stared at a face, swirling in misery. There was no jumping in the water. I stared into the face’s cold eyes, feeling its pain, making a connection. Then we were there.
The boy had fallen from a tree. It was hot wherever we were. He stared at me, pleading as if I could help. He refused to look at her. He opened his mouth but the life had evaporated. His body was dead, his consciousness dying. She lifted him as if he were a baby, cradled him, and he cried like one. I wondered how no one heard, but no one seemed to care.
“I guess that’s that,” she told him.
There was the sound of snapping, sharp thunder almost. She rested him back as we had found him.
“They don’t like that,” she said. “He had so much life remaining. They don’t like me taking it away. I don’t like it either.”
I felt sick. Before I could talk we had come back to her house and were standing beside the lake.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“There’s room for another face to rise.”
We finished our lunch, but I hardly ate. Death looked to be in pain and she stared out into the cold. I knew I would have to leave soon. I didn’t know what to say. She was still beautiful. Finally I asked her:
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Well, you looked desperate. You looked lonely. You looked like you needed someone to talk to. Someone to let you know that you exist. I guess I just felt sorry for you. I didn’t want you to end up killing yourself.”
| 2016-10-01T22:22:50 | 2016-10-01T20:43:03 | 3,031 | 1,036 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances.
|
Eight hour work day. Come home via transport, play video games, make dinner. Go to sleep.
Wake up.
Rinse and repeat.
He wasn't the smartest person in high school. He got his diploma, he got out of there, out of the *system* that he had always detested, watched as the honours students all went to university.
He worked every day. It was a nice job, relatively: it wasn't too horrid, not like retail had been when he was going to school, and it kept food on the table.
Eight hour work day. Bus home. Bit of Dota. Eat dinner. Sleep, wake up.
Again and again. He wasn’t even paying attention any more, he couldn’t remember what he had done yesterday, the weekends were a blur of drinking alone. Was the life of his old acquaintances like this?
No, he reminded himself. They had friends. They made friends.
He had friends, once, didn’t he? Back in school. Right. Wonder what happened to them.
Work. Bus. Game. Eat. Sleep? Get up.
He sat beside a woman on the bus. About his age, tall, beautiful.
“Hi.”
Good going. He’s not worth anything, he’s so awkward, intimidated by the idea of having human contact outside his workplace. What a failure. Waste of life.
She blushes and turns away, a little bit, then looks at him. “Hello.”
They talk, for a few minutes, before the bus stops. He gets her name - Libitina. She says it’s latin, her parents were rather into history. He doesn’t really care. She gives him her number, and gets off.
Work for a few hours. Take the bus home, but she isn’t there, that’s all right, she said she had a very time consuming job. He turns on the television. Shooting in a mall downtown.
He locks his door.
Dinner is good. It has a little more flavour, today, perhaps. But he doesn’t notice, and he goes to bed.
Wake up.
He sees her on the bus again, and he sits beside her. They talk a little - she’s into philosophy. Him? He’s into … well, not much. She recommends writing, he remembers he enjoyed it when he was in school. Makes a mental note to get some paper that his notes can be physical.
He works, and his boss tells him to go home early, you worked hard today.
She’s on the phone and they talk, him sitting in front of his computer, looking up writing guides. There was this story he always wanted to write, he remembers now, and it gnaws at him a little. He doesn’t stop smiling until he falls asleep.
They chat on the bus again and he’s a bit worried. She doesn’t look so great, today, a bit of an ashen look tinging her features. He’d ask, but knows not to pry. Perhaps she’s ill - but she was fine yesterday.
He gets a raise. His boss pats him on the back.
They talk into the night, and he’s never felt better.
He’s never had a girlfriend before, but he’s so lonely, maybe he’s found one? Maybe he’s found *the one*. It’s odd, but he’s never felt this eager waiting for the bus.
He doesn’t see her on the bus, today. He sits beside an elderly woman, and she smiles at him. He smiles back and they talk a little bit. She’s into philosophy.
|
I like to get out and walk as often as I can.
The guy sitting at the front desk gives me the OK and I march through the automatic doors with as much gusto as I can conjure, taking a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill my lungs.
It's only a couple steps to get to the fountain. They stopped running it a few days ago since fall is just around the corner, but it's still a nice place to sit.
Today, I get about halfway there and feel like my legs are going to give out. But I press on, wheezing and stumbling, because someone else is sitting on the marble ledge of the fountain.
She's facing away from me, and it looks like her hair is laced with cherry blossom petals. Upon closer examination, the chick's goddamn hair is *made* of cherry blossom petals. You see something like that, you have to know what's up.
"Hi. I'm Marty," I say, extending a hand.
"I'm Death. Nice to meet you," she replies, offering a gentle handshake.
"Wow. You must really be going through a phase, huh?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Why would you go around and say a thing like that? 'Hi, I'm Death.' That's not gonna be a great way to make friends."
"Tell me about it. You're the first person in weeks who's actually approached me." She runs a hand through the cherry blossoms and glances nervously at the ground.
"Well, that's a shame. I think more people oughta talk to each other. Makes the whole thing easier."
"Mmm-hmm." She sighs and looks me in the eye. "You must be pretty close, then."
I raise an eyebrow. "Wha--what are you--?"
"No one comes to talk to me unless they're close, Martin."
I take a deep breath, let the early-autumn air fill my lungs, and exhale slowly. "So you're not kidding around, then."
"No."
I glance back at the automatic doors. Nurse Robson taps her watch.
"I'm not ready," I say.
"No one ever is. But let me tell you something." She takes a clump of petals from her hair and places them in my palm. "I can tell, by the look in your eyes, that you're not repulsed by me. You're not afraid. A little upset, maybe, but not truly afraid."
I clutch the petals tightly. "I'm scared about what I'm leaving behind. The people, the places."
"But at the same time, you long for an existence without pain."
A tear falls from my cheek and lands on my legs, near-useless and failing like the rest of my body. "Yeah."
"Martin, prolonging the inevitable only leads to more struggle. I know your body is still fighting, but you'll know when it's time."
I look back at the nurse, who is attaching a new bag of IV medication to my walking-support pole, then stare at the girl.
She pats my hand. "I'll be here by the fountain, waiting for you."
I walk back through the doors, open my palm, and notice that the cherry blossom is gone. Death, however, is still at the fountain, staring off into the distance.
Everything hurts. Everything is crying out for help, unable to subsist on the chemicals they keep pumping in me. Somehow, when I woke up this morning, I knew this was the day.
But now I'm ready to say goodbye.
***
/r/GigaWrites
| 2016-10-01T22:22:50 | 2016-10-01T21:36:04 | 3,031 | 203 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
|
"I'm getting really fucking sick of this!" Mitch shouted at Juniper, working quickly to untie the ropes that held her hands behind her back.
"Yeah, well I wish you never had to show up either. But here we are again." Juniper kept an eye on the door to her interrogation room, waiting for the foreign agents to return.
After gnawing on a particularly tight section of rope, Mitch spat. "Can't you get a more relaxing job? Like in an office? I could just show up to help get the printer working or something like that."
"Mitch, you know this has been my life's ambition."
"But it isn't MINE. You've dragged me along for this whole ride, working your way towards the top of the heap. I think you LIKE that I was cursed."
Juniper rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Her bonds fell to the ground. As she rubbed her wrists, Mitch crossed his arms and pouted.
"I'm going to get fired, ya know. I can't keep randomly disappearing with no notice."
"So I'll get you a job in an office with my association."
"I want nothing to do with you!"
The handle of the steel door turned with a clunk. A grating squeal of rusty metal cut through their argument as Juniper's captors swung the door open.
As they rushed in to fight, Juniper took them on alone with nothing but the chair, the rope, and her martial arts skills to aid her.
Mitch shrieked and cowered in a corner. He never was much help in a fight.
|
I was on my third date with a lovely woman when the tingling in my fingers started.
"No... Not now!"
"What's wrong?" Jennifer looked at me, baffled.
The tingling was creeping up my arms. More intense as it spread.
"Uh... So, I'm going to disappear for a bit. Not sure where I'm going or when I'll be back. Just know that it has nothing to do with you. I made a promise a long time ago that I can't break."
"What do you mean? You're just going to ditch me here with the check?"
"Listen I promise I'll explain when I can. Wait, did you check in on Facebook with me?"
"Of course, I wanted everyone to know that I was having a great time with what I thought was a great guy..."
She trailed off as she noticed my fingers were fading from existence. The progression was accelerating. I stood up.
Next thing I know I'm standing in a dirty bathroom. My 600lb ex girlfriend sitting on the toilet with her phone in her hand looking at Facebook and crying.
She sobbed at me, "You said you would always be there for me! Who is Jennifer? I'm stuck again..." Her voice trailing off meekly.
I tried to just walk out the door but every time I did I simply stepped back into the bathroom.
"You still keep the KY in the same place?" I sighed as I opened the bathroom drawer knowing the answer.
Later I tried to call Jennifer but she wouldn't answer. This is the fourth potential relationship she's ruined. I know she's doing it on purpose, but she denies it.
| 2017-03-22T12:46:53 | 2017-03-22T11:45:22 | 3,122 | 106 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
|
“You know, have you ever tried being responsible for your own shit, instead of relying on some witches curse to have me do your laundry?”, Shane snarked at Sandra.
“You’re just too convenient.”, she smirked, looking Shane up and down.”Besides, it’s more important than my laundry.” Sandra had gotten into some trouble with some seniors. Sandra and her current boyfriend, Rumio, were the town’s local supply of dope, and less than lethal party drugs; like acid, shrooms, and ecstasy. It was a small town with a poor, small market, and not really many dealers to go to. Even though Sandra and Rumio kept a “code” to never sell any amount of or any type of drug that they knew would kill a particular person, they never made a code to never skimp their customers.
“What, do you need a loan or some shit? Or are you just horny and your boyfriend isn’t around again?” Shane was rather pissed at this point. A day hadn’t gone by that Aphrodite’s curse hadn’t played it’s merciless joke on him. It had been calming down recently, and he figured he might be able to start having a normal life again. Shane was supposed to be at the premiere of a big blockbuster hit, “The Comedical Advancements of Hubris the Flying Baby”, but in the middle of the previews was sucked back into the grip of Sandra’s hurricane of a life.
“No, I need somebody that can hold a gun.” Sandra handed over a .22.
“What the fuck is this peashooter gonna do?”
“It’s gonna scare off these jocks we fucked with.” Sandra and Rumio had taken it upon themselves to not only sell a football player a bag of chopped up romaine, but hadn’t even given him the proper gram to dollar ratio. Sandra and Rumio had sold oregano to this kid before, so they figured he would probably still be too stupid to tell the difference. But Kenneth, the fool, had smoked lettuce in his youth after hearing talk through his bedroom door of “smoking the devil’s lettuce.”
“And why should I give a fuck that you pissed some jocks off?”
“Because even if you leave, you’re just gonna come back when they actually show up.” They of course being the entire football team; small town sports teams are essentially packs of hyenas.
“So why don’t I go get a real weapon, like a chainsaw? Or a steak knife?”
“Because we’re not trying to kill them, we’re trying to get them to fuck off. We don’t need heat all over our shit, man.” Sandra shoved the .22 into Shane’s chest. She stormed off into another room to grab her phone and her baton. While she called Rumio, Shane looked out the window.
“You got any idea what type of car these kids might roll up in?”
“I don’t know, probably some busted up piece of shit. Pretty sure Ken’s dad own a Thunderbird.” Rumio picked up, Sandra asked, “Hey, where are you, babe?”
“Pulling up right now.” Just then a green Thunderbird swerved right into his driveway. Rumio parked quickly, reached for his bat in the back seat, and got out. Five kids exited the Thunderbird, all looking around before a couple charged towards Rumio. Sandra and Shane came leaping off the front porch towards Rumio, trying to distract a couple of the linebackers. Rumio managed to break a kneecap on of the kids, but took an uppercut from his backup. Rumio tried shoving the kid away via tip of bat. It hurt the player’s chest, but he grabbed the bat and swung it to the side.
Sandra wasn’t strong, but people didn’t think a baton swing to the ribs wasn’t gonna hurt. Shane had been in a few fights, via Sandra, but still didn’t stand a chance against the neanderthals of the frontline. It wasn’t too soon before Shane pulled out… Bang! Shane had plucked one of them in the eye, and it started to bleed. They all scattered back to the car before Shane could pull the trigger again.
“They’re just gonna come back, you know.” Shane looked at the two of them locked in arms.
“Yeah, but at least we got Slickshot Shane to back us up when the rattlesnakes show up.” Sandra smirked at Shane and giggled a bit.
Rumi told Shane, “Yeah and if you let my girlfriend die, I’ll be sure to send your ass to Aphrodite myself.” Shane rolled his eyes and shoved his way through the lovebirds, and murmured something under his breath, probably something of the usual, “this curse is bullshit, I’m not even getting laid.” The couple renounced themselves to their abode, only to find Shane in their room.
“I knew you hadn’t done your fucking laundry yet.”
|
It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler.
| 2017-03-22T14:43:57 | 2017-03-22T13:26:15 | 47 | 21 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right.
|
"What am I doing wrong?"
I said it out loud, but I knew he wouldn't answer. He just sat there and asked again,
"Give up? Or try again?".
His question echoed as if we were in a cave, but the room was about the size of a elevator. It would have terrified me if this was my first time. That was long ago, from Cain, to Ghengis, to Nero, to... I can't remember.
But I swear, I tried everything. I fought for myself. I fought for others. I fought for God, all of them. I fought for king and country. Yet, I still come here.
Did I fight hard enough? Was it the wrong target? Was I not strong enough? Was I not smart enough? Could I have fough-...
...Fought...
"Fighting. Was that it? Was I to focused on fighting? Should I have been doing something else?"
"Give up? Or try again?" He bellowed.
What else is there? Fighting wasn't getting me anywhere. I have to try something new.
But what?
Well, what's the opposite of war?
Peace?
Yeah, yeah that might be it. Peace.
"Give up? Or try again?" He bellowed.
"Try again." I answered.
"What will your name be?" He inquired.
"Hmm, let's go with...
Mahatma Gandhi."
|
"Happy Birthday dear Shaurya, happy birthday to you!",
as his friends and family sang the monotonous ritual of a song at his 18th, He looked more lost than usual.
His eyes were moving rapidly,as if he was reading a book floating in front of him. As the song stopped so did his eyes. An unusual look of anger decorated his face. It all came back to him, his past memories a tad late.
He was 6'0 tall, dark skinned and had a stocky build.
"It's about damn tim.." before he could complete his mouth was immediately stuffed with Ladoo's(Indian Sweet) and his face was covered with cake.
After some careful manipulation he was able to get away from the party,
While the adults danced to loud punjabi music with a little help from some old fashioned whiskey, and his friends danced to loud EDM(Electro Dance Music). Shaurya, which was now apparently his name, sat in seclusion, away from the ruckus, on the roof.
"India huh, what does he want me to do this time? be inspired by that old fool Gandhi?"
He looked up at the heavens in anger. The doors were closed on him yet again.
Maybe conquering almost every inch of gods mighty earth,Leading massive armies to war, becoming the most powerful leader of all time wasn't enough.
"Maybe killing the jews was too much?" He burst out laughing. He regretted nothing. His laughter subsided while his anxiety rose, "What now?"
_______________________________________________________________
Hello!, this my first attempt at writing, please give me feedback! Thanks!
| 2017-03-31T12:40:36 | 2017-03-31T09:38:51 | 71 | 10 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower.
|
I took my glasses off for the first time in a long time... then I wiped them off with my shirt and put them back on. There was no time to waste, our team's engineer yelled out "SPY ZAPPIN' MAH SENTRY!" As the team's only pyro, I quickly ignited the enemy spy and took out my trusty homewrecker. With one clean swing the electric device was disarmed. The engineer decided to celebrate by using the high-five taunt. I wanted to humor him so I joined in. This was the last time I ever accepted a high five in the middle of a match. 4 stickies on the sentry and 1 crit stick below our feet was all the enemy needed to dispatch of our defense.
We ended up loosing that game.
Seriously though, this WP is dangerously close to the Pyro class from Team Fortress 2. He wears goggles which show the world full of rainbows and unicorns when in reality he is burning every one alive.
If OP didn't get the idea for this WP from this game, Il bite my ghostly Gibus.
|
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine was my CO, everything in the company was his territory.
"Sir, I have the upmost respect for you, this battalion, and our great country. It's just that I don't feel comfortable devoting my life to a military that broke my one golden rule. Never deceive me."
"Well I suppose I can't blame you, Specialist. But this ends here. I'm afraid I have to report you to the MP's."
"They'll kill both of us, you do know that?"
"I do. But I swore an oath, Specialist Donnowitz, and I intend to keep it."
"I respect your sense of justice, sir, but with all due respect you haven't worn the glasses. Here, tell me how important your oath is after wearing these."
Donnowitz tossed his pair of specialized eye pro issued to him by the military to a reluctant Aldo Raine.
"...."
"Understand now?"
Lieutenant Aldo Raine could not hear the specialist. The only thing he could focus on was his former deceased brother in arms, Private Hans Landa, standing before him, mocking him with his clenched teeth.
| 2017-06-20T04:00:15 | 2017-06-20T00:31:30 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] In the Order of the Magi, military ranks are gained and lost in duels. Being a Battlemaster, Damien is challenged hundreds of times a day by ambitious young recruits. He decides today to accept one challenge at random and show the recruits what a Battlemaster can do.
Order of Magi is totally not a name I chose just to make the acronym OOM... I played too much WoW back in high school.
Anyway, have at it!
|
My door was plastered in notes of challenge. The wood had been covered in a coat of hastily scrawled letters as thick as the door itself. As soon as I touched the handle of the door, dozens of taunts and wagers tumbled off of the pile and fluttered down to the ground.
The first few inches of my office had a welcome mat made of challenges that had been shoved under the crack of the door. I waved a hand at them, and arcane energy crackled through my fingers to create a gust of wind.
I weaved my magic between and below the papers, picking them off of the ground and holding them still in the air. After half a breath I snapped my fingers, and every-one of the hundred challenges zoomed toward the trash in the corner.
The rank of a mage was based on a score. You needed to prove that you could beat a powerful mage in high combat to improve your rank. If you won against someone who was much higher than you, you could climb through years of training in a matter of seconds, if you beat someone lower than you, well, nobody really cared.
The southern mages called our practices barbaric; they told us that a combat based system didn't belong in a time of peace and that our battlemasters would fail us if the countries ever went to war. It was the age-old argument of magic, was it better to keep your nose in books or singed with your newest attempt at a spell?
Of course, the system our Academy used meant I was valuable. A recruit beating me would bring him all the way to the rank of Archmage, and for a good reason, in the 124 years that we'd been using this system, I'd never been defeated.
Over the last two years, I'd stopped taking challenges. As much as I enjoyed wiping the snot off of a cocky face, I had important work to do and every hour wasted on blind ambition was an hour that could have been spent doing ANYTHING else. For that reason, the pages ended up in the trash, and I spent my days taking the challenges off of my door with a paint scraper.
There was a knock on my door, muted by the dozens of papers over the wood. With a wave of my hand and a quiet word the door opened and my assistant poked her head in, her hood still much too large for her.
"Sir?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"The Southern Mages are interested in a visit. They claimed over glass that they could be here within an hour."
I huffed, really? The only issue I'd found with not taking challenges was that diplomacy was starting to eat more and more into my day. I didn't have time to discuss magical theory. I needed to be casting spells instead of pulling at the wording of basic levitation to try to make the spell a slight bit stronger.
Of course, I couldn't deny their visit, I didn't have a good reason to put them off, and you could only ignore them so many times before even Southern Mages got bored. I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my graying hair. "I have to?" I asked.
"It's the third time they've called me this week," my assistant answered.
"And it's-"
"Tuesday sir," my assistant answered. She'd gotten good at predicting our conversations without magic as the years had gone on.
"Fine, fine," I groaned and shoved my current project off of my desk, "if they're going to call once a day I'll meet with them. Now I'm going to be stuck working all day."
"Sorry," my assistant managed a weak smile under her hood.
"It's fine Lisa," I relented, "just go." There had to be something, anything I could do today that was more interesting than... this.
|
"Lord Damien, might I request a challenge?"
Damien stopped organizing his scrolls and turned his head to the recruit. A shadow elf. He stood almost a foot shorter than Damien with pale blue skin. He stood there, grinning ear to ear. Looking over his shoulder, Damien could see half of the initiate class behind him. It's not unnatrual for recruits to challenge uppers, but usually the courtesy is to refuse, as it'd be unfair to duel students who know so little as first years.
This recruit was strange. He held himself with prestige; certainty even. Aura flowed off of him in torrents. He already had a spell rune, and an intricate one at that, tatooed onto the back of his hand, running up his right arm. Most first years come to the Order without any magic, or with the most basic of street spells. This rune was far more complex than Damien had ever seen.
Of course, he let none of these observations show on his face. He merely put his bag on the table and sighed in exasperation.
"Sure, lead the way."
The confirmation was met with cheers and screams from the peanut gallery on the far side of the room. Damien led the elf and his first year class to the nearest Praxi Proelium chamber. Now standing on opposite ends of the room, we stood at the ready.
"I'll let you go first, Battlemaster."
Damien wasn't going to protest. Something easy to open the rally. A fireball. Damien's smallest rune, printed on his right ring finger, glowed red as he raised his hand in front of him. In an instant a burning mass burst from Damien's palm and hurled across the room. He watched as the kid stood unwaveringly in the spell's path. Just before it hit, the recruit's arm flashed a bright purple, then... nothing. The fireball exploded harmlessly on the enchanted wall behind him. When the smoke cleared the elf kid was standing just left of where he was previously. What is this, illusion magic?
The bystanders in the balconies above whispered in awe. Damien needed a closer look. A different spell. Something that wouldn't obscure his vision. Lightning bolt. A tatoo running the length of his left forearm hummed and glowed a blinding blue-ish hue. With a sound that cracked the air, lightning streamed through the air aimed right at the student. This time, Damien could see it. With his complex purple arm rune, a swirling portal opened at the kids feet. As he fell through, the exit portal opened just a few paces to his right. It happened in an instant. Again the elf escaped the spell unscathed.
"Teleportation magic. Rare and expensive. How'd you get your hands on that?"
The first year smirked, then broke into a sprint. In reaction, Damien casted a spell to stop him. Pillar, a rock spell. With a glowing left fist, Damien pulled the earth up in front of him and launched a massive rock column sliding across the room. Mid-stride, the kid opened a portal and hurdled inside. In an instant Damien heard the exit portal open behind him and felt a hard shove, sending him rolling onto his hands and knees. After recovering, he turned to see the pale skinned recruit smirking behind him.
"Not an impressive showing from the battlemaster."
Neat trick, Damien thought. But that's all it was. Wind began to swirl at Damien's feet. He could feel runes on his neck and back vibrating at his command. The kid's eyes widened as Damien lifted into the air on the winds of an ensuing tornado. Before he could react, the initiate was lifted into the air thrown across the room, landing sprawled out on the floor. When he next opened his eyes, Damien stood over him.
"Not an impressive showing from the recruit, but there's potential."
| 2017-09-05T11:45:40 | 2017-09-05T11:30:03 | 218 | 56 |
[WP] The aliens found you in hypersleep on your derelict ship and brought you onto theirs. You've awoken and escaped into their maintenance tunnels and the only thing you've found that you can eat is the aliens themselves.
|
They don't realize it yet. That I've gone. My captors have not been wise enough to recognize that the dark shape in my sleep pod is merely a dry husk. Dead shell of my old skin that I've outgrown. The walls of are full of them now. Three days in these tunnels, and already I can feel the walls getting smaller and smaller around me. Soon I won't be able to fit. Soon I will have to go out and face them all.
Of course, they noticed their missing comrade right away.
I couldn't help myself. I was hungry.
I heard them hunting everywhere for him. Heavy dumb fall of their feet stumbling down corridors. They ran right by me, huddled there on the other side of the wall. The blaring sirens. Their search parties scoured the ship, but as hours became days, they gave up.
But they grew nervous. They learned to soften their feet. They knew they were not alone.
It doesn't matter. I can smell the hot iron of their fear even through the wall.
I'm down to the blood-bag's fingers. I dig the needles of my teeth between tendon and bone, sucking up the last little scraps of meat. He tastes stale now, faintly fetid. My stomach churns with panging emptiness. I sit crouched in the thick darkness of the tunnel, listening to the ship hum and whir around me. Weighing my odds.
My claws click restlessly against the steel grate below me. Through it, I can see a dim corridor lit by amber light. Shadows making their way across the floor. They press on, oblivious and laughing.
I am a wolf held prisoner by sheep. There is no *if* in my escape.
One of those blood-bags stops under my feet. His soft face turns upward, his dull eyes wide in disbelief.
My belly thrills with anticipation.
He murmurs, "Do you hear that?"
The other alien never has a chance to reply.
I kick the grate open and fall on them like night.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
Just a quick one before work. Thanks for reading <3
ETA: and [here's](https://soundcloud.com/sbvoice/eating-aliens) an audio version recorded by /u/SBVoicesYourStuff. Thanks for reading my story! :)
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“You are very good, I am sure.”
I stand over the Xani, who is incapacitated. A maintenance worker within this rather lofty system of tunnels. It is well-lit, and a decent location for a light dinner.
I run my hands over his fleshy arms.
Oh, how good that would taste with a little parsley, garnishing of rosemary. Lashings of potatoes side, marinated in a garlic herb butter. Oh, yes, that would be divine. I just wish I had the ingredients, but unfortunately they elude me at this present. I wonder if they have a kitchen?
So I leave my prey, and continue walking down the tunnel network. Though I have not eaten in three weeks, courtesy of my disturbed hypersleep, I cannot reduce myself to have a raw Xani. It would be too uncouth, too unappealing. I would vomit, everywhere, like a hose of bile. It would be thoroughly unpleasant, let me say.
I make my way into a shaft, where I smell something decently aromatic. I lift a nearby hatch, and resell myself down into the kitchen,
There I find it, Xani, all incapacitated and waiting for me. Herbs of grand variety in the stocked pantries, rosemary, thyme, basil, mint, oh heavens be praised. Cheese, butter, all the lashings and garnishing you can think of. I move myself over to a large wooden cabinet, and open to see a treasure trove of ingredients, all to provide me with a feast unlike any other. Oh, perfection, belissimo!
I get to work, utilizing well the conveniently placed cutting boards.
————————————————————
This is the perfect plot to next week’s episode of Jardin: Phenomenal Cooking Extravaganza!
The hypothetical menu I have come up with for next for next week:
Roasted butter and garlic potatoes
Leg of Xani, nicely marinated in a Peruvian chili sauce
Arm of Xani in a creme reduction, lightly seared
Asparagus shoots, nicely oiled and roasted
A desert consisting of berry compote, and orange zest creme brûlée
Waldorf salad with salad cream and lashings of fried radishes, potatoes, and boneless chicken fried
I believe this menu will be perfect, both to entice next week’s audience and please the dinner guests alike.
Monsieur Jardin, it will be a show to remember.
————————————————————
| 2018-07-30T08:12:50 | 2018-07-30T07:25:38 | 203 | 12 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess".
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April 5: I've finished digging the moat and the crocodiles have already moved in, fantastic.
4/6: me and Chico both had a good hard laugh when this suited up loser got devoured. all those dollars for armor but zero sense. I saddled up Chico and we flew to Halfordshire for some juicy lambs, dined and dashed because the rancher's son had to be a hero, a roasted hero.
4/12: we really did it this time. we took a wrong turn on our trip to Salisburg and flew over the city with THE MOST bravado in the world. I didn't notice it until after we landed for water but entire mobs of knights riding freaking armored elephants with flaming level 80 magma spears swarmed the north and south. No doubt a coordinated offensive involving the northern settlement which apparently excelled in training attack hyenas . "Aid in my liberating of this divine maiden from her foul warden, oh formidable kinsmen." said this overly rich snob bag in gold armor. No doubt the task master or mayor. Unfortunately for them metal armor is perfect for cooking the dragon food inside and Chico ate well....too well, I'm afraid Chico must go on a diet, he can't even take flight. Been trying to make him go vegan for a while, just can't find a place with adequate barrel sizes of soy milk. Getting frustrated.
5/18 Chico lost 875 lbs since 4/20, not reaching his goal yet.
5/22 Chico relapsed, not good. I woke up with him gone from his stable and evidence of a massive battle took place at the castle gates, swords, spears, bows and arrows, blood everywhere. But no bodies, except that of a fat dragon passed out in the middle of the scene. I scolded him, I made him sleep outside, he knows what he did.
|
Sitting quietly in her beautiful court yard Rae sat looking out over her kingdom. She watched the many marvels that happened there. The beauty of nature and woods surrounded her. A crystal water fell rushed to the forest floor not far off from her.
Rae shook her head as she saw the bright gleam of armor speeding her way.
Another of the kingdoms enemies racing my way to rescue me, she mused.
She turned and headed toward the humungous gaping hole in the side of her mountain. It was made to look like a cave but make no mistake it was a castle of the most beautiful design. As she walked through the golden hall she carefully put out each and ever torch preparing for her visitor.
When Rae reached the end of the long hallway she sat in wait watching the entrance for her rescuer.
She did not have to wait long before she heard the thundering of hooves and the click clack of armor. Soon the metal man was 'stealthily' stalking towards her.
Rae rose up, "who goes there!" She demanded.
It was silent for a long moment before the man answered in a raspy voice, "Arthur of the city of Frei, knight of graylandolf."
"And what is your buisness here?"Rae boomed back.
"To slay the dragon and rescue the princess!" Arthur said.
" And what if you find the dragon and the princess are one and the same?" She asked.
Arthur stopped frozen in shock at the question. He began mumbling out an answer but Rae interrupted him with a blast of fire.
The knight dodged, and Rae allowed a small smile to curl up her lips. Feeling the adrenalin rush through her she forces herself to be hard even down to her heart beat as the ground shook around her golden dust clouded the air. Without thought Rae turned the stone to Ice and in so doing froze Arthur eternally, still.
Lighting a torch she walked over to inspect her prize, "Oh, and Arthur," Rae spat, "I'm not the princess I'm the king. Perhaps, if you had known you wouldn't have an eternal place in my trophy room."
| 2019-01-09T11:44:13 | 2019-01-09T07:32:29 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] You pass away at 83 in a hospital room surrounded by your loved ones. You awake the next moment sitting at a table in a brightly lit room. A much younger version of yourself enters the room and sits across from you. “83 years, not bad, but it isn’t the record.” Says your younger self.
|
"83 years, not bad. But it isn't the record."
For a moment, there's shock. Then, the memories come rushing back. "Well, what do you expect? Cancer isn't something you can easily control," you say after a short sigh.
The reflection laughs. "Fair enough," it says with a shrug. "So, what would you like the next time 'round?"
You pause a moment, collecting the thoughts of your past lives. "What time periods do I have left?"
Another pause. "Well, I mean, you have all eternity after 3212 to choose from still, but I assume you're talking about the gaps before that? In that case, you've got a couple of gaps between previous lives to fill, albeit they're not going to be very long from the look of it."
You laugh. "The last 83 years felt like centuries, a short life isn't bad, so long as I can still do something with it."
The reflection nods. "Alright, I'll move some dates around, will combine a couple of the small year gaps into a larger chunk. Still only going to be in your 30s when you kick the bucket, but it gives you time to stretch your legs."
"Perfect." You smile as you start to face. "What year is it this time?"
"BCE 356. Good luck, Alexander!"
|
It took a while for the shock to wear off. Longer than I'd like to admit, although I don't know why. I didn't have any particularly set ideas about the afterlife, but I guess *this* was still way outside the range of considered possibilities.
"What, it's a contest now?" I asked. "How's that even fair? You know how much chance and accident there was in my life? Maybe not yet, you little whelp, but you will. If you don't get offed by some random asshole running a red light. Also, there's the genes. I don't know what the rest of the, ah, contestants did with their lives, but I spent a lot of *mine* studying biology. I was a damn professor. Genes are complicated things. What extends the life of one person might not help much for another. We still don't understand it all."
I took a deep breath, and glared, not sure why I was feeling so indignant. Should prob'ly be grateful. This was a Hell of a lot better than annihilation, so far. Or, you know, Hell.
"Oh, it's not a competition," the weird mirror-memory of a man said loftily. "It's a simulation. One of a very long series of tests. Everything you said about chance and genes and health was true." He sighed. "Welcome to your own greatest research project. Come on. We'll get you debriefed."
&#x200B;
r/Magleby
| 2019-02-19T07:58:52 | 2019-02-19T06:21:03 | 46 | 20 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
"Personal journal: The sky on this planet was blue when we landed. I should have known that a blood-colored sky was a bad omen.
"Command had singled out this planet, a tiny garden world around an unremarkable star, as a good place to set up a frontier resupply depot. 'We've observed them through a probe for a hundred cycles around their star, they should be no problem for you, General Fen.' And at first, I had arrogantly believed them.
"From day one this expedition has been a nonstop string of failure and misery. Guerilla fighters ambush our supply lines and reinforcements around every turn, a weapon hiding behind every piece of flora. At night, when we make camp, the same music we had watched them perform in festivals of peace turns into hellish torments, keeping all but those lucky enough to lose their hearing awake. Bombs drop at all hours, missiles and rockets destroy our aircraft... There is no peace on this planet, there is only death.
"Command had told me this was a peaceful backwater, but the bloodlust I see in every enemy's eyes tells me differently. I wonder now, as I prepare to evacuate in defeat, if the reason the Gods made this planet so isolated is not to protect them from us, but rather to protect the rest of the galaxy from them."
|
We got the data. We got the intel. We knew of their past and how violent the the humans were. After continuing to watch the humans for the past 300 Earth years they become peaceful after their third global conflict. The casualties reached to 4 billion by the time it ended. The country in the western hemisphere known as "The United States" were the most affective in that war. Their only equal was another country called "Russia" and they were using strategies that allowed them to push back many of their opposing forces. The war ended wuth only the remnants of their governments. They came together and created a unified government to prevent such loss of life again. Now, we invade. They are distant from their violent past. We sent our ships to destroy their cities and show them who their masters will be. I made a fatal mistake of underestimating the humans. It only took them 1 months for them to fully mobilize their resources to war. Their soldiers were givin weapons that pierced our shields and armor. They used what ever military resource the had to down one of our ships. They reverse engineered our technology and their unity has been strengthened by the fact that we have come to dominate them. Humans, their greatest asset is not their numbers or intelligence, it is their will. There are now soldiers who have decimated our forces. Now, they have come to capture me.
| 2019-02-26T07:33:05 | 2019-02-26T07:32:54 | 589 | 70 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
"My brothers, I hope this message reaches you. We never should have come to this place. This...jewel of a planet, with simple creatures living simple lives. None of them followed the Ardok's Logic, 'the strong take through combat, and by taking they get stronger.' Our empire's founding principle, that has guided us through millennia of conflict and victory. These, 'humans,' practice the weakness of peace. Their end should have been swifter than most.
At first, it was. Death came for them, and they eagerly accepted it. Begging to put down the weapons and come to the table. Bah, weakness. The only negotiation is through combat, through war. But we stirred something, something dark...and something evil.
At first, they gathered weapons, though primitive, it was at least going to be a fight. The scale of their weapons was surprising but we adapted, instead of being bunched in large ships, easy targets for their large explosives, we began a ground invasion. Surgical, precise yet overwhelming. We engaged them on the open fields and began to have glorious battles, for a time. They...continually made a concentrated effort to always capture some of us alive. At first we thought it was a pitiful attempt at trading our brethren for peace. But the channels were silent, and the humans crept in the shadows, away from the glorious battlefields. It was then we began to see the true horrors of this infernal plane. For it was not their weapons, not their explosives. We have seen larger explosives than this hurled at our fleets.
Fifteen earth cycles of searching we found our brethren. They were all...disgraced, eviscerated, and clearly held down and mutilated. Tortured for information? What a primitive and cowardly act. They did not gain information from their lips, but they must have learned secrets I cannot begin to tell you.
From that day forward, we began to die. Not in glorious combat, but sickly and weak. Our organs ruptured, but not a single weapon was found. No shots, no stabbings...yet we kept falling. First by the dozens, soon by the thousands. We tried quarantining, and then as soon as we tried the humans would strike our sick, would engage not in the open fields but from remote distances. We would attempt to strike back, but those who went came back with no trophies and soon would show the same symptoms.
We have never encountered a race like this one. We have faced dishonor, but not sacrilege. Life to them is clearly not sacred. We thought them weak for such short lifespans, but perhaps it simply is because of how close to the void their hearts and minds are.
I have bore witness to the atramentous maw...and only eternal blackness stared back.
This is not a lush world of life, this is a horrific world of death. And no one can wield it better than they can. My time is short, despite my best efforts the humans have found new and worse poisons to fill the air with each passing day, far too quickly for us to adapt. I hope this message reaches you in time, to prepare, to run. They were able to steal one of our ships and were able to dissect it as they had us. The ship returning to you is not housed with our trophies. It is full of their trophies, trophies of rot and death. We shared our gospel of battle and killed billions. They would like to share their own of death, and return the favor tenfold."
|
“Hello internet!”
A large face of a female teenager filled the screen, her voice a tone of fake cheer that was so common in these videos. Especially as of late.
“Again, thank you sooooo much for all the subscribes and likes. This is a special video for my one million subscriber mark.” The view panned back, allowing the partially destroyed inside of what might have been a warehouse come into view around her head. “As promised-”, There was a pause, “We caught one!” The camera panned over to a mixture of male and females of varying ages standing around a metal table with weapons. On the table, with all six limbs chained down, the alien soldier held down, barely able to even struggle through both the wounds and restraints.
“Now, as all of you know with my previous videos, any smartknife from your kitchen can cut through their armor and flesh so long as you turn the safety settings off. See the link attached for that vid. And now onto what I wanted to show you. We’re going to be taking an indepth look at their physiology and what you can do to fight if you don’t have your smartknife.” The girl chirps.
What then proceeded over the next thirty heavily-edited minutes was one of the most exacting, horrific, and through tortures the Commander had seen of any of his own species. It was brutal. It was sickening. It broke at least two intergalactic treaties the humans had never been invited to sign. And it was narrated with that same false cheer the entire time.
The commander didn’t speak until the video ended. The soldier’s blood splattered on that false cheery face was the last frame, the girl telling people to subscribe for more vids, download the vid to share and reference later and see her friend’s channel about how to turn their blade dancing skills into a deadly fighting style.
“How wide spread is this communication?” The commander asks the intelligence officer.
“From what the counter says, billions have seen it and spread it. Even if we were to find the source, their communication system is too varied and decentralized to remove it before we have subjugated or destroyed them.” The intelligence officer behind the commander speaks quietly, trying to not look as sick as he felt. “From reports, the increase in casualties have wounds similar to the ones shown here.”
The commander continued to stare at the blood-splattered face on the screen of the stolen computer. The planet Earth had been supposed to be an easy conquest as a forward station for their on going war. It was.... had been a science and entertainment based planet with an almost zealous focus on peace. After the last two weeks of fighting, the commander now understood that the reason for that zealousness was that the humans had been restraining their own vicious nature. The compassion the humans held for each other and the other species of their planet was absent in the eyes of that smiling female. This was not the face of peace.
A small ding emanated from the computer and a small tab showed up in the upper right corner stating there was a new video. The intelligence officer hesitantly reached over to click the small pop up.
A new video opened up to the face of a noticeably older man standing there. Behind him was that same teenage girl from before, some red bloodied bandages on her arm, stomach, and head. This didn’t seem to stop her from laughing and dancing in the background though in celebration as she stood next to-
“No.” whispered the intelligence officer.
“Hello internet.” Spoke the man, voice gruffer, more tired than the girl. “Today for our 1 Billion subscriber vid we’re going to show you some different ways to hijack and pilot one of their ships."
| 2019-02-26T13:01:01 | 2019-02-26T12:17:05 | 75 | 26 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
Commander Siren had dismissed the rumors.
Humans are a proud race. Though new amongst the stars with barely a few ships to their name, they have worked hard to integrate, to learn, to join that blasted Republic and all its artists and scientists. Even though they’ve never seen an alien in person before, they’d still worked very hard for the day they did. Gifts, knowledge, science, technology. Great effort was made by humanity to present themselves in the best possible light.
Of course, the Elder Senate of the Republic has passed a resolution, barring humanity from learning of the Fifth Great War, and is, the Union Tide.
So it was a shock to humanity that those who lived amongst the stars still waged war.
When our fleets jumped into the fray, the humans hailed us. When we fired, they quickly scattered, evacuating their outposts all across the Solar System in an exodus toward Earth.
To be fair, for a race with no weapons, they’d put up a pretty good fight. In fact, using satellites and abandoned wreckage, they’d managed to actually damage a few of our ships. It was almost as if they DID know how to fight.
So I investigated, hacking into their archives, their history.
For some reason, everything over three hundred years old had been buried. Redacted from records, hidden away from public view.
There was, however, an internal set of records. And in their education system, amongst a class curiously named, pre-disaster history, I found the answer.
I downloaded the data I could before the humans blocked me off. I opened up a random file, a journal of a human official serving in a intercontinental government at the time.
“Day 43.”
“The scientists have managed to create what we need. Project Golem. It will finally march across the radiation blasted Northern front, and take the capital city of ——.”
An image showed an enormous automaton, bristling with kinetic weapons, roaring across the landscape as armor-clad humans fought it with vehicles and missiles.
In dread, I opened another record.
“We will NEVER surrender. Like Churchill, like the Russians, we will survive no matter how many nuclear weapons drop on top of us. No matter how many of us are thrown into the meat grinder.”
Nuclear weapons? Outlawed a thousand years ago by the Republic, these devices could wipe out the surface of a planet if used enough times.
I read deeper, and grew more terrified with each passage.
Three hundred years ago, the humans had been a war like race unlike any other. Even insectoid species, though they were cannibals, would all focus for the good of the species as a whole.
Not these warm-bloods. They killed each other over every drop of resource, every disagreement. Cities razed for the sake of philosophy and religion. Murder and violence transformed from art into science.
In their last war they had nearly wiped themselves out dozens of times, forcibly cloning themselves and running mass fertility programs simply to maintain a viable population. They’d manage to develop dozens of biological, mechanical, and chemical weapons, over half of which were outlawed by the Republic as WMDs.
When the nuclear bombs annihilated their surface, they resorted to going underground, sending robot armies to smash each other’s bunkers. When that failed, nanobots were injected into water supplies and scorched the oceans. If it weren’t for humanity’s insane technological prowess and their utter determination to survive, they’d have wiped themselves out.
I brought all this up to Commander Siren. He, of course, refused to believe any of it. It was all too ludicrous. It must be a trick, he said as our fleet neared Earth. A misinformation campaign to deter us.
The illusion field around earth fell away, the gleaming ocean and verdant forests vanishing like a wrapping sliding off.
Cracked open crust and scorched atmosphere, dotted with pale lights around small pockets of blue and green, greeted us.
Before us, flashes of light shone across the surface like a newborn constellation, and the fleet sensors blared in warning. Thousands of missiles, nuclear, nanobot, robot-carrying.
Hidden orbital stations opened up, railguns and lasers firing. Hastily cobbled from stolen weaponry of our own, mounted onto their technology in a desperate attempt to even the technological playing field.
Our rear sensors put out more warnings. The moon. They’d blasted chunks off their moon, firing them at our fleet. Explosions rocked our ships as enormous masses of rock smashed into them, killing millions of soldiers and crew. It was insane; the chunks would fall to earth, destroying whatever they had left down there. But I realized, a second too late, that they do not care.
As the ragged fleets of humanity came into view, firing ruthlessly at our surrendering warships, a single message flared across our communications channel. A young woman, her face blackened with soot and her eyes blazing with hatred, said only one word.
“DIE.”
|
“The Birds” they called them.
Achr’gax are natural shapeshifters. The superlative merger of ferocity and intelligence. The ultimate predator. The pinnacle of evolution across star systems.
And we know.
We have conquered many.
'So many things we could have done differently,' I later told my superiors.
‘This is on *you,* general Ghrin.’
‘With all due respect, sir, you have never been more wrong.’
‘You didn’t ACT! When the time was ripe for planet-wide conflict, you ordered RETREAT!’
‘Act? Act…'
A few of our battalions on the ground did *act*. Acted like untrained children, on emotion and the instinct to prevail. There would not have been conflict. What little fighting ensued could be called so, as only to keep the spirits of our soldiers from drowning. It was a slaughter.
I lost dear friends, many of whom have mates and children stationed on the nearest moon.
‘Why did you send me down there, three months prior to zero hour?’
‘Because you *volunteered*, General. It is a bygone tradition.’
‘It is a precautionary *tactic.* I *lived* amongst the humans. I sacrificed my body integrity by breathing their air for three months, so that I can provide you with valuable intel. I volunteered because the council had not even brought up the idea.’
The Supreme Leader was silent, and so was the rest of the throne room, the General’s voice sharpened and echoing in the vast chamber. Still fury raged in the Leader's eyes, as he watched the General pace before him now.
‘So when I specifically told you that you must postpone the invasion, that we are not ready *yet,* two months in, what was your reply?’
Silence.
‘Nothing. And when the hour of my extraction was near, what do you do? You *blindly* send half of our force. Scattered, disorganised, and armed with over-confidence. And you expect me to lead them on a suicide mission.’
‘The humans do not possess the ability to organise themselves into an effective entity anymore!'
Ghrin sighed, and turned his back.
‘They had no idea we were coming, and they had no way to repel our forces!'
He was about to continue, when he heard two sets of heavy footsteps and the clatter of the bulky armour of the King’s militia closing in.
‘You have got to be joking, King Dret.’ Just as he turned to face him, his left hand — he was still in his human shape — got stunned with the localised neurotoxin the guards carried, and fell limp to his side.
‘W - wait!’ He raised his free hand in alarm. ‘Before I go, you might want to listen to this, as you realise that you may well have doomed your race, here today.’
He took a recording device, shaped like a diamond, and gleaming like a ruby and pressed something, before throwing it at his majesty’s feet.’
‘What is this?!’ The King’s words echoed as the chamber stilled once again, to watch this spectacle.
‘Your failure. The sounds of our forces’ brief victory in Moscow, and the humans’ response. Tell me, does this sound to you, like an uncoordinated response?’
…
I watched with disbelieving eyes, but not quite surprised, as the bulk of my very own brigade materialised on the main square at noon.
It was a bright day, warm even for my physiology. I was in a “cafe” drinking quite a bitter liquid I had gotten accustomed to during my recon mission. A calming variety of native “music” was playing softly on the giant speakers. The exact time of my extraction was closing in, and I wanted to have visuals at the designated spot at all times. In case something went wrong...
They were fully armed. Even more so they hadn’t bothered to shape-shift. All three pairs of claws, were armed with our most sophisticated weaponry.
The civilians screamed and ran, and they had surrounded the leadership’s headquarters.
Silence fell, and they celebrated. The music had stopped.
Then, the speakers sparked to life and a monotonous voice echoed.
‘ПРИВЕТСТВОВАТЬ, ГОСТЕЙ’ — ‘Welcome, guests’ — my earpiece translator dictated.
'НАСЛАЖДАЙТЕСЬ КОНЦЕРТОМ’ — ‘Enjoy the concert’.
Static in the speakers. Then —
‘ROGER THAT, SENDING IN THE BIRDS’
The speakers broadcasted static for a few seconds.
Thunderous noise filled the sky above in every direction.
Ear-splitting music blasted from the speakers.
And then the bombing started.
…
Far above the orbit, on the mightiest ship in the Achr’gaxian fleet, in the throne room and beside the mighty King’s feet, from Ghrin’s recording device — as he was being dragged away by the militia -- echoed AC/DC’s "War Machine” in an utter silence, to be broken only by the detonations sounding in the background.
--
Edit: formatting
| 2019-02-26T12:17:07 | 2019-02-26T09:52:04 | 62 | 40 |
[WP] Everyone hates Stan. However, you are the new guy and no one will tell you why they hate Stan. You decide to talk to Stan. Its been 3 months and now you're telling the new guy why everyone hates Stan.
|
The new girl smiles apologetically, as she knocks on the open door to my office.
"Hey there! It's Frank, right? I asked you how to work the coffee maker on my first day, last week?"
I nod. Now that she mentions it, I remember that. The coffee maker is a real pain sometimes. Fucking Stan.
"I'm Jennifer, by the way. I had a question?"
"Ask away, Jen" I smile, trying to look approachable. Being new is hard.
Her jaw tightens a little, but she smiles.
"Its... well, it's about Stan?"
"Fucking Stan." I respond, automatically, "Sorry, that was unprofessional. Just... Fucking Stan."
She nods understandingly. "Common sentiment. Only, I'm new here? So I was wondering, uhh, why it is that everyone hates Stan so much?"
"Everyone hates Stan," I say "But it's hard to explain why. Fucking Stan. It would be better if you talked to him. Then you'd understand."
She makes a so-so gesture with her hand.
"I'm just a little nervous, is all. He makes everyone hate him so much, meeting him must be awful." She looks apologetic, drumming her pen against her notebook.
I nod. "Oh, it is. Fucking Stan."
She looks up at that. "Say... how about you talk me through meeting Stan. You're quite new yourself, aren't you?"
"Only been here three months, that's right!" I say.
She nods. "That's what the others told me, yes. So, could you tell me? About Stan?"
"Oh, certainly! I had only been here for a week when I decided to talk to fucking Stan, and I can remember it as clearly as though it was yesterday! But are you sure you've got time to be wasting talking to me? I remember my first week was *hectic.* You'd probably be better just going to talk to Stan yourself, Jenny"
She leans forward in her chair, smiling tightly. "We've got all the time you need, Frank."
"I guess I'd best start from the beginning, then."
&#x200B;
The past week had been terribly busy, so I'd not really had any chance to make any friends. About the only thing I knew for sure was that everyone *hated* Stan, here. They mentioned it, pretty often - whenever something went wrong, or near enough. It was terribly frustrating, though; there seemed to be some sort of collective decision not to tell the new guy anything - I would ask, and get a bland smile, and be told to see for myself. It was incredibly irritating, to tell the truth.
But on Friday, I finished my work early, and I decided to finally do it. To go talk to Stan, see what all the fuss was about.
So I got up, left my desk, moved the chair away from my office door - there's so little space in these offices, I swear - and set off down the hallway. I met Sheila by the water fountain at the end, and after she stonewalled me about Stan one last time, I turned left - I'm sure you know, at that end of the hallway, turning right leads to the break room, turning left leads to Stan.
I unlocked the door, pulled back the deadbolt, opened it and set off down the corridor towards Stan's office. The lights turned on as I walked, and I felt an inexplicably sense of dread. Isn't that funny? I was just going to talk to Stan, and I was dreading it. I suppose it's to be expected, though. Fucking Stan.
Anyway, I got to his office, knocked on the door, opened it, and-
&#x200B;
"And?" Jenny asks, her pen poised over the page.
"And- And- Say, why are you asking me? Why don't you go check for yourself?"
She sighs.
"Mr Waters, if you can tell me what you did two weeks ago, then I'll leave and go check on Stan myself." Jennifer stands, brushing herself down.
"I helped you with the coffee machine" I reply.
She smiles sadly. "I'm afraid that's not quite right, Mr Waters. I told you that you did that *last* week. But I suppose it was a fair extrapolation."
"I don't- I don't understand? What's going on?"
"Our records show that you arrived at this... *company* last monday. You went to see Stan on Friday. Yesterday. *What happened when you saw Stan?*"
"Fucking Stan." I reply to the new girl.
She runs a hand through her hair, and turns to leave, but thinks better of it.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I promise, we won't allow this to happen to anyone else."
\><><><><><><><><><
Preliminary Incident Report on entity "Fucking Stan"
Agent on the scene, Captain Jennifer Mitchell.
It is unclear at what point the entity took up residence in the office, but it is the recommendation of this investigation that we quarantine the site, and endeavour to exterminate the entity. Without personal contact - for reasons that are obvious from the attached documentation - the investigating agent cannot comment on the ease by which an entity such as this will be eliminated.
It is quite clear that the entity devours memories, as the agent's discussion with Edwin Jenks will clarify. Per recommendation of the board, the conversation was repeated whilst identifying Edwin by a different name. It did not have a noticeable effect; he appeared to genuinely believe himself to be "Frank Waters". He appears unaware of the nature of the entity, nor of the fictional nature of the "three months" that he believes have passed. It is clear he does not remember contacting the agency, nor of his own attempts to protect himself from the entity.
|
Being an Avenger (no, not that kind) gets boring sometimes. I’ve learned, the best way to have fun at a job where the only fun part is hunting to consume the most unworthy of souls on Earth, is to talk shit. I got good at that recently. But mainly because my other demonic friends in my department taught me.
Like, I didn’t always get to make many friends as a young angel. God never approved of me mixing with the lower angels because I would get distracted and never do my work. So, after he kicked me out of His Kingdom for fucking one of the demons in the level above me, I felt freed. It was so great. From the moment I joined Hell, I tried to have as much fun as possible. I made as many friends as I could to avoid loneliness. The first place I made friends was at my new workplace: the Avenger department.
Here, I made a lot of good memories, including bringing my first girlfriend here for lunch so she could meet my colleagues (they liked her, and she liked them, but Stan told me she wasn’t allowed to stay longer than an hour because she’s human. We all ignored him).
My department is the most fun out of all of Hell. We get to do what redeemable bad guys do in Earth movies. We get revenge on the real bad guys on Earth because the Angels are too moral and prissy to get their hands dirty for that. Basically, we’re the better version of Suicide Squad.
Stan is like a supervisor. Not really a boss, more like a taskmaster than anything else. He makes sure we’re doing our work and tells us to stop getting distracted if we stop our work for even a minute. You may be asking, what the actual fuck?
Allow me to explain. Half of our job is to brutally hunt down and destroy or consume the souls of the most despicable, heartless, and merciless pathetic worms that are biologically classified as humans. The other half is to do research on those souls prior to hunting and document the hunt and result after hunting. So if we weren’t constantly on the grind, Stan would tattle on us to the boss.
The big man was Joseph. Ironic, I know. Joseph never worried too much about constantly keeping us working. He was a good guy. Well, as good as a soul-sucking lifeless catalyst and servant of His Satanic Majesty Lucifer can be. He never got on our asses about working for eternity. That’s what we’d be doing anyways.
In fact, even Joseph hated Stan! I was shocked when I learned that. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so upset with Stan. When I first joined, I tried to model myself after the higher demon. He seemed like a hard worker and really smart. I always strived to achieve his level of diligence.
But no. Stan’s a jackass.
Let me show you why.
The first week was fine. I did good work. Hard work. I was awesome. Everyone loved me. Even Stan loved me! Things were going great. My maternal was proud of me, my paternal was in good health, all was well! (Preternatural beings like me don’t have parents except God, so in Hell, for our own sense of family and to relieve the workers of our eternal strain, His Satanic Majesty assigned us family units. Not wives and kids, which we choose. Just maternal and paternal figures.)
The second week in, Stan immediately began to get on my ass about the tiniest of details. He reviewed our reports to ensure all was well before he sent them off to Joseph, so he read my reports too. The moment he found even a minute error like a missing comma or a misspelled word, he would make a big deal out of it. He acted as if my incorrect subject-verb-agreement mistake had killed his maternal and tossed his existence into the Eternal Pit of Despair. He was so melodramatic.
This continued for two months. He never stopped. Since then, my work quality has always been impeccable. I don’t want to hear his whining, so I put my reports through to Sally from Demonic Literature in the next building over to check that my writing is good. She’s such a good help, and doesn’t dramatize a grammatical error like that absolute slime mold of a demon that we call Stan.
Recently, we got a new recruit. A young angel named Lucas joined the Frey. (If you got that reference, you rock. Christian Hell and Heaven talk to all other pantheons and Holy places. Frey is the best god ever. That man is fucking golden.)
Lucas joined us a few weeks ago. Kid’s a genius. Better than all of us and twice the hard worker. He, like me, couldn’t understand why everyone hated Stan. I told him my story in his second week before he experienced it. He’s been living the good life since I showed him the higher road. His maternal is so proud of him for having so many new friends already (he mixed in with the office real well). His paternal thinks Lucas is the smartest creature to have ever existed. The office thinks he’s an amazing employee.
As for me? I love the guy. Really, he’s my best friend, little brother, and son all rolled into one. He’s actually having dinner with me and my girlfriend tonight after she comes back from her visit to the Red House in the Capital.
(His Satanic Majesty is quite the comedian and fairly dramatic, so he calls his palace the Red House after the similar place in an Earthly country. It’s quite amusing. My girlfriend visited Him to get His blessing so she could stay with me after death rather than be forced to go to Heaven. She’s so cute.)
Anyways, my girlfriend thinks Lucas is the nicest demonic kid she’s ever met. She likes to think she’s his big sister or mother figure when he drops by for a meal at our house or for our regular event nights.
I can safely say that I have fair reason to hate Stan. Lucas has fair reason to hate Stan. But at least we can be happy even with that utter undignified troglodyte’s presence in our lives.
| 2019-03-13T22:42:04 | 2019-03-13T21:19:21 | 31 | 16 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together.
|
Crime rates exploded when the ink activated in our bodies. Those who didn’t have tattoos before tried getting one so they could have a power of their own, but it didn’t work; so they took to belittling us, making us all out to be criminals. And what did I do? I did what any sane person would do, I hid. But even years after the ink activated the crime rates where still soaring, the people with tattoos where the only ones who could fight people with tattoos, but law enforcement was not willing to hire anyone with a tattoo. So I put on a mask and showed my tattoos and fought those criminals myself. And the stigma began to change. Because I was a hero, why couldn’t the people like me be heroes too? All it took was one person doing the right thing.
|
After a month of The Inks being activated crime rates started to escalate. Everywhere people started to abuse the new powers they gained and some use it to defend others.
Due to the power that tattoos gave people who didn’t have tattoos when the activation occurred tried to ink their bodies, but they never received their powers.
Since I am one of the few individuals who held the world record for the most tattoos on a body the Government came to me to control the crime rates.
I did what they told me to do.
Capturing every criminal i could with my new powers. At this point i can easily defeat anyone because of the massive amount of superhero tattoos I have on my body. I have everything from From famous DC and Marvel villains and heroes to overpowered anime characters like Saitama and Goku.
No one can ever defeat me.
| 2019-05-07T07:52:07 | 2019-05-07T07:36:50 | 43 | 29 |
[WP] You've never noticed the (+) in the bottom right of your vision before. Today on your 23rd birthday however, you focus on it intently, as a skill tree pops up before your eyes with 23 points to allocate.
|
'Huh.'
Just as you decide to go heavy on 'Leadership' after exploring some promising nodes down that line with a few points in 'Charm', 'Health', and 'Mathematics' to round it out a beachball appears and spins in front of a new popup.
"'Auto allocating based on playstyle'...what the...". you mumble.
'Allocation complete:
15 - Knowledge (Visual Performance, sexual)
4 - Knowledge (Visual Art, comedy)
2 - Wit (Sarcasm subtype)
1 - Contact (Local, rogue subtype)
1 - Appraise (Apothecary materials)
'
"Fuuuck". You say after trying, desperately, to get something else to highlight. But the tree folds in on itself until it is a (+) button again and slides out of frame.
|
(I'm not used to writing, forgive me.)
On my 23rd birthday, I finally noticed that + on the corner of my eye. I focused on it, and it opened the skill tree for me - with 23 points to use up. I probably wouldn't have figured it out for a couple minutes if I didn't play games a lot as a kid.
I didn't know how to use it.. at all. Because, if I opened it with focusing, how could I upgrade the points at the top? I wouldn't be able to do that. 'Oh well,' I thought to myself. 'I might as well start investing in them now.'
I focused on all the names, [Strength], [Intellegence], [Health], [Defense], and others as such. I tried to at least see how to use a point, I was able to learn to invest, and I logged off after using half my points.
| 2019-08-21T02:20:32 | 2019-08-20T19:00:33 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
|
"I won't ask for much, but it would be amazing if you could make it so I had a better grasp of distance and pain. I'm always getting lost and I can't tell very well how far away things are. Pain is a weird one I know, but it's like I can only register four levels: Fine, ouch, I broke all my limbs, and just kill me now levels of pain. Being able to distinguish a few more levels would be nice, maybe reduce it a bit too. Oh, could you maybe fix my teeth too? I'd rather not break my jaw to make more space for them if you can just make my jaw bigger in the first place. More than all of that though, I'd like to have my genes mostly intact if possible."
"Thats... all? You could have immortality, perfect beauty, perfect vision, the ability to directly modify genetics, see the future, fly, telepathy, telekinesis, you name it, we've got it, but all you want are these minor fixes? Are you sure?" The alien asks me. "Many of those powers would be easy to abuse, and humanity probably isn't ready for them. If there was anything else, I'd wish for the ability to read and type faster. Those are at least within the bounds of talent and practice. Ah, if you wanted to enhance my vocal chords a bit, I do love singing." I finished up all my requests. "And this will buy your silence?" The alien double checks. "I would remain silent regardless, but if you wanted to redirect some money from your human front business, that would be very kind of you." I politely suggested. "I'll see to it that it gets done. Thank you, human." "No, thank you. I got to see inside area 51 thanks to you." I smiled brilliantly in my mind. Body language was hard when you're just a brain in a tank.
|
"Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
"In....in terms of the replacement body or in terms of like...the world in general?"
"We do not have authority to change external factors of your planet, only the body we destr-"
"Sooooo what you're saying is it's possible, it's just not something you have jurisdiction to complete, do to bureaucratic red-tape so to speak? "
"Wh....correct, human. Reveal your request this instant! We will not be delayed due to your semantic-"
"Ok, so I want my body to have the power to edit anything I want within the bounds of this planet."
"Hmm... bypassing our jurisdiction clause, clever human. We accept."
[14 days later, a scene of utter destruction on the Galactic Federation]
"*coughs up Alien blood* Human...why.... how... we had a deal ugh."
"What, I didn't tell anyone anything? I did however enslave the ignorant of all human societies into a knowledge hivemind of sorts, accelerating the process in which we could disseminate information. We made AI, programmed them to the point where they are smarter than us, but still bound by a rule for our collective need to exist. They made me Emperor of Earth, and honestly I never got over the fact that officer killed me so, here we are."
"Humans, such a....*cough* petty substrate of existence...""
"Now, since you saved me I will do the same for you, as the AI are constructing an eternal body of your liking, but I'm not giving you those crazy options like you gave me. A much simpler choice, do you wanna have a male human body, or a female human body? Your choice."
"Make me... a human, the ultimate disrespect. I would rather cease my existence!"
"Male it is."
"Wait wh-"
-Fin-
| 2019-10-28T10:19:14 | 2019-10-28T09:11:50 | 176 | 117 |
[WP] The hero was blessed with the power to bring people back to life, resurecting their companions to keep up the fight against the dark lord. Which is why it’s odd that they brought you, the dark lord that they fought against back to life.
|
As the darkness clears, Feldor is on his back and can feel the hard stone below him. Not great but far better than the sword he felt ripping through his chest last time he was breathing. He begins trying to piece things together before opening his eyes...and knows he was dead. Everything between then and now is a gap, but he knows.
As he opens his eyes he sees Ciern. The man who held the aforementioned sword. Feldor remembers the 'hero' and his power. "You have made a monumental mistake. Either it was resurrecting me or you resurrected me to deal with it. Speak quickly or I'll decide for you," Feldor says drawing his own power in.
"The dragons are back," Ciern says simply....and effectively.
Feldor remembers the war he'd led against them. And the cost of winning. He was the 'hero' then, though he'd long since abandoned such lofty ideals. Feldor takes a moment to process this before speaking. "We've not much time then. How many more do you think you can resurrect before your power fails?" Feldor asks as he rises.
Ciern is shocked at the question. "How....how did you know!?"
Feldor is shocked in return but has the presence of mind to keep it out of his voice and face. "How could I not? It's what they do."
Ciern begins to stutter before finding his voice. "B-B-B-BBut...but the tales speak of how there were no Beasts then and you killed the dragons to take their power...I thought-"
Feldor strikes him in the face, fury pulsing through his veins. "IT WAS YOU WASN'T IT!?! Oooh you fool! You may have DOOMED humanity! And WHY?!?! WHY Would you bring them back?"
Ciern's eyes wide, he was unused to being spoken to this way. For the last decade he'd been THE HERO! He overthrew the immortal tyrant! He re-united loved ones with those lost in the battle! "I-I-I thought since they were your enemy-"
Feldor interrupts him with a shout this time "OF COURSE THEY WERE MY ENEMY! THEY WERE EVERYTHINGS ENEMY! Did you think to bring them back as some LAST STAB at my ONE legacy?!"
Ciern reacts as though he'd been slapped again, without the need of the blow itself. Feldor continues, a little more hollow than before. "You did....didn't you. You resurrected the single greatest threat to all life just because it was I that ended them...." Feldor felt the wound more deeply than the sword that had ended him. "I...friends lost...I sacrificed so much...and you just..." Feldor just plops onto the ground with no ceremony and only then does he realize he was brought back into this world as he'd first entered it.
Ciern is horrified. It is in this moment he has realized how ruinous his petty jab at the the former dark lord was. He had already known the dragons return was...detrimental but he had rationalized. He thought they'd gone mad since it had been so long since their death. That a thousand years was the purview of the gods alone.
Feldor finally sighs. "Get me clothes and we'll get started re-saving the world."
Ciern focuses on the task he's been given and gets the clothes he'd brought for his former foe. "What....what's going on that I....please help me fix this."
As Feldor dresses, he nods. "I'll need you anyway. You brought up that there were no tales of Beasts or dark wizards when the dragons laid claim to the skies. Beasts are born when magic rises too high and isn't contained. It flows into something, anything alive. In a way YOU are a Beast as that is how your powers came to be. There were no Beasts when dragons lived because they absorb magic. All of it. Without care for the world around them or what destruction they cause. And unlike a man or Beast, a dragon only releases that magic upon death."
Ciern is numb to the shock his next realization would cause, too much of his world has crumbled in his mind to feel it. "You killed them to save people."
Feldor nods. "And you brought them back as a petty jab at a dead man."
|
"What the hell?" You think to yourself as you regain consciousness. "Wasn't I just killed?" You look around you and realize that the battle that claimed your life is still in full swing all around you. The hero, who bested you is chanting incantations causing colorful bursts of light to erupt from his palms. The spells strike your friends down and as you watch them fall you feel a sudden burst of rage inside of you, enveloping you and taking over your thoughts. As you try to open your mouth to cast a spell you find yourself unable to do so. You struggle to speak, yet manage not a word. Confusion turns to panic as you not only realize you are unable to speak, you are unable to move. Well, you ARE moving, yet it isn't you who is telling your body to act. It's as if invisible strings attached to your limbs are controlling you, telling you to move forward. A horrible realization grips you; you have been raised. Unlike the dark powers you command, this magic is different. You are not a mindless undead, you are something far, far worse. The forces that raised you walk the path of light, gaining their power from benevolence. You are a Lightborn. You shudder at the thought, or at least you would if you could. The Lightborn are risen soldiers made from the fallen forces of darkness. Only those with a sliver of good in their hearts can be raised this way, the light will deem those whose hearts are not fully loyal to the darkness worthy of a second change. Lightborn are the joke of the underworld. Unlike those risen with necromantic magic they have full control of their own thoughts and they are eventually able to regain control of their bodies after discovering the reason why they were raised as Lightborn in the first place, after finding that good thing within themselves and coming to terms with it. Until then, a fate worse than death awaits; you are forced to fight alongside whoever raised you, as if atoning for your many sins. You have personally slain numerous Lightborn soldiers, those disgusting traitors who still held some allegiance to the light within their hearts. Yet here you stand, as one. You can't believe it. The crimes committed in your name are unnumbered. The atrocities you personally oversaw are unspeakable. "So then why the fuck am I a Lightborn?!" You are fuming. There is nothing good about you, of that you are certain. You are the definition of evil. Your subordinates looked up to you; the Darklord of the underworld.
Your despair is interrupted by the feeling of your body beginning to move again. Your hands raise themselves up to the sky and your mouth speaks unknown words. You are casting a healing spell! You fight it, with everything inside of you, to no avail. You watch as you heal the tired troops who are locked in a fierce battle with your allies. As they regain their strength they slay those who you once called friends. You wish to call out, apologize, anything. Your allies look at you, horrified at what you have become. You know what they must be thinking; how could our Darklord possibly be a Lightborn? They must be wondering what goodness you must have been harboring in your heart to earn such a fate? As your body continues to act on it's own, healing your worst enemies, you are forced to watch as your friends fall one by one. Men and women who fought beside you, who swore themselves to your service because they believed in your cause, those who put their faith in your conviction now lying dead right under your feet. You feel a tear fall down your face. You gaze at their faces, repeating their names in your head, thanking them for their loyalty. Suddenly, you feel it. It's like a small, electric shock right at the tip of your finger. The healing incantation seizes. You move your finger, YOU move it. You feel the electricity coursing through your veins as slowly you being to gain control of your body back. You rejoice as you stretch your limbs, but your joy is short-lived as the realization sinks in. The reason you are in this mess in the first place. Your heart, as black as it may be was filled with love for your allies, your friends. The concern you felt for them brought you back, only to cause you to fight against them. You turn to the hero that raised you as a Lightborn. A twisted smile on your face you begin to cast a catastrophic spell that would wipe that man from the face of the earth. He turns his gaze to you and with a flick of his wrist everything turns dark. "For fucks sake..." You think to yourself as you regain consciousness yet again.
| 2019-12-26T13:04:49 | 2019-12-26T12:35:43 | 244 | 103 |
[WP] The hero was blessed with the power to bring people back to life, resurecting their companions to keep up the fight against the dark lord. Which is why it’s odd that they brought you, the dark lord that they fought against back to life.
|
Evrail wanted to laugh... he really did. After a lifetime of conquest and destruction, after uniting the entirety of the world under his banner for 10 years, and finally squashing all rebel elements all he wanted to do was drink a cup of team and read a book in peace. He did want to laugh, but not at the four idiots that killed his guards, and barged into his chambers screaming "We are the heroes of justice, here to restore freedom to the land.". No... after all they were just doing what others told them was right... Evrail saw them as what they were, simple misguided idiots being taken advantaged by some remnant priesthood probably or the smoldering remains of a now defunct aristocracy that escaped execution... Evrail wanted to laugh at the audacity that someone would send, what basically amounted to four children as assassins.
"Prepare to die Dark Lord!" the oldest, Gallan, shouted brandishing a hammer made of light. "I the noble"
"Who sent you?" Evrail asked without raising his head from the book, his tone convening a simmering fury that was enough to make the four heroes take a step back out of reflex.
"We are"
"The heroes of justice, here to restore freedom to the land." snapped Evrail, closing his book and throwing it against the wall. "You know... I get it. I really do. You live a boring life in a sleepy village or a small town, you go to school, in the case of the mage girl in the back trying to hide behind her staff, or to a temple... I'm guessing judging by his priest robe, or an academy going by the fact that you too have swords, then some asshole comes along, offering you a 'righteous quest' next thing you know you're trying to kill the 'Dark Lord'. Fine, I get it. you guys are like... the third group of heroes this week, and guess what day it is."
Silence fell the room, as none of the heroes dared speak, all of them stunned by how curt the dreaded Dark Lord was speaking to them. With a couple of snaps of his fingers Evrail brought the heroes out of their shock, pointing to the Alana, the mage of the group, asking "You. Glasses. What day is it today?"
"erm... Monday?"
"Bingo, it's Monday, it's not even 2 in the afternoon, and you guys are the 3rd group of guys trying to kill me."
"That only proves that the people crave for freedom, and that our quest is just." Tyrian the groups knight, bellowed before breaking into a frantic charge, shield in one hand, sword in the other.
"Freedom?" Evrail responded, almost spitting out the word in disgust, as he hurled his cup of tea into Tyrians head, leaving his flat on the floor.
"Do you even know what freedom is? huh? do you have, the slightest idea What you're trying to actually do?!"
The three remaining heroes remained stunned, each one hoping that another would say something, but none felt as if they had an answer.
"You know... I was like you once."
"What?" Alana asked, shocked by the notion.
"Oh yes... I had friends, just like all of you. And we went from kingdom to kingdom, taking down tyrants, freeing the people, pretty much what you're trying to do right now actually. I..." Evrail paused for a moment, wrapped up in reverie he cupped his face and took a deep sigh as the echoes of long dead friends called to him.
"I still remember how they cheered for us, every time we freed a new village. At first it was just small stuff, an upstart noble here, a corrupt local official there, the occasional bandit, but we... heh... we always found a way to get the job done. All of us, together, fighting for justice, freeing the people."
"What happened?" asked John, the priest of the group entranced by Evrails story.
"I was wondering when you were gonna say something." Evrail took a minute to gather his thoughts giving out a sad chuckle before resuming. "Normally i wouldn't tell you this but... if you're gonna be heroes you should hear it. On one of our earlier adventures we saved a small town from a corrupt local official . It was nothing special, we took him out in less than a week and let the people put... whoever in charge. They cheered, gave us some supplies, and we were on our way. Off to save the next town... and then the next, and so on... A year later we go back to that little quiet town to make a pit stop. It was a long ride, and hell, i was even looking forward to some crappy ale if it meant finally sleeping in a bed for a change. We were expecting a village of people that used their freedoms to rebuild and prosper... what we found was a bunch of squabbling farmers, decimating themselves over petty land disputes, people killing one another in retaliation for petty theft, even a couple of demonic sacrifices... it got pretty bad." Evrail nodded his head, staring at the floor, trying to brace himself for the next part of the story. With a deep sigh and weary voice he managed to force himself to continue, somewhat primped by Galan asking him to. "Then it got worse. The townspeople... they, well they tried to rob us. At first we thought they had gone mad, or maybe it was some sort of plague, so we defended ourselves, trying to not hurt anyone.... and then Desmond died. Stabbed in the back by a woman he slept with on our last visit there. Then Alex went down, burnt alive in a barn... Finally Isabella and myself got captured by a demonic cult that sprung up in town... and they... they forced me to watch as they sacrificed my wife to some demon that never showed up. Then they tried to sacrifice me, but they missed my heart by half a centimeter... and i woke up an hour later in a mass grave outside of town with a wound in my chest."
"Wait... but if you were a hero... how did you become the Dark Lord? I mean you killed countless people, and took every land under your banner." John asked, his voice filled with confusion.
"Well, if seeing all my friends die in front of me at the hands of people we bled to save a year back wasn't enough... I went to another town after that. A place where we dispatched a bandit raiding party, but we left one scrawny kid go. At the time we thought 'eh, what's the harm, he's obviously in over his head and just made a bad choice'. The kid went running to his boss's boss who in turn came and razed that place to the ground. Then i decided to visit more places we saved in the passed."
Evrail continued for a while, telling the heroes of places long dead, some as revenge others from the incompetency of newly appointed leaders, while others just fell under the weight of their own internal struggles. By the time he was done, Alana had dropped her staff to the ground, along with Galans hammer and Johns wand, their will to fight completely drained by the onslaught of human madness and selfishness presented to them.
"Why? why did all of that happen? Can people just not be saved?" Galan asked as he crumbled to his knees, despair filling his very soul.
"Because everyone talks about the heroes coming to save the town from the bandits, or whatever, but no one ever talks about what happens when the adventure is over. About what happens when the villagers aren't banding together against insurmountable odds anymore. Because then they would have to admit that freedom happens, and that is something no one wants to admit. Freedom is just a length of rope we try to hang ourselves with, the only problem is that it looks like a tie, and everyone wants to try it on..." Evrail raised from his chair, smashing it against the wall in rage, taking a minute to force himself to calm down before finally moving passed Tyrians unconscious body approaching the heroes and looking them in the eye. "Look, i'm not going to pretend that I'm a saint or that I haven't killed enough people to drown a small nation in blood..." Evrail went silent as blood began flooding his throat accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest, his eyes fixed on the shocked faces of the heroes laying before him in stunned silence.
"Die Dark Lord by my blade!"
"Tyrian what the fu..." where the last things he heard as darkness engulfed his being.
He didn't have a book, or tea, but Evrail finally had peace, for a brief moment, before waking up the next, gasping for air. Before him was John, one of the heroes, but he looked much older.
"Wh..Wh...Wha..."
"Shhh.... don't speak. You've been dead for a long time, you need to heal before getting up."
"Wh...Wh...why..?"
"Because you were right. We gave the world freedom and it hanged itself."
|
The battlefield was scorched and burnt. So many fallen... it would take weeks to revive them all. And those are the ones with bodies left to recover... the battle was, in fact, still raging. Archers loosing arrows, steel striking steel, and the shouts of military orders rang across the battlefield like funeral bells on a cold winter evening. In the center of it all, this final cathedral housed the most important battle of the war. The battle between Fredrick Knightwing, champion of Faun’zala, and Grimswell Penumbral, the Lunar Lord of Darkness. Fredrick let out an aching, heavy sigh. This decision was the right decision... So many people were hurt to bring about his moment. To bring about the end of Grimswell, the champion of corruption and destruction. It was finally over. But then, Faun’zala called to Fredrick once again. Another vision. Another lesson.
Thoughts of simpler times, back before he was blessed by Faun’zala, those thoughts came to mind. It was just Fredrick and his Father out in the woods. Fredrick had never taken up a bow before: the senior Knightwing was teaching his son to hunt. Softly walking through the mossy ground during a midsummer’s afternoon... he could feel, once again, the ground sinking beneath his feet. Off in the distance, the father and son saw a lone deer with a mangled leg. The deer was hobbling along slowly, painfully. Fredrick watched in horror as his father drew his bow. Middle aged fingers drew back the bowstring swiftly, letting an arrow loose in a minuscule breath. The arrow flew true, striking the deer right in the heart. It died an easy, painless death.
Nine year old Fredrick was trembling... his eyes welled up. He gripped his father fiercely, crying. “Why papa, why? That wasn’t fair... it couldn’t get away.” The experienced hunter ran a hand through Fredrick’s hair, softly, warmly. “Here, Fred, let’s sit down. I’ll talk you through it.” The father motioned to a stump a few paces away, and the Fredrick sat on his father’s lap. “Son, everybody and everything has a good and a bad. What’s good for our dinner is real bad for that deer.” Fredrick gripped his father’s jacket tightly at the mention of the deer. “Shh, kiddo, it’s ok. What a lot of folks focus on a lot is what’s good. What’s good for them, and how to be good people. Yeah, being a good person is good... but bad’s pretty important too.” At that Fredrick looked up confused. The confusion distracted Fredrick from the sadness a bit, helping him dry his tears. “But papa, bad is bad. Nobody wants bad.”
At that, a light chuckle spilled out of the senior Knightwing’s lips. “Yeah, bad is bad. But think about it this way: for Deer bad is a predator. Wolves, Dragonsnaps... and people too. If there were none of those, there’d be a lot of deer.” Fredrick nodded along, this was very simple to understand. “Well imagine if there weren’t any predators. There would be so many deer. Too many. All the plants would get eaten real quick. And you can’t have a forest without plants... so what’s good for us is also good for the forest.” Fredricks eyes widened. “Yeah papa, you’re right! I love plants.” The hunter’s lips curled up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He ran a hand through little Fredrick’s hair, making Fredrick’s curly brown hair even messier than usual. “Every bad is gonna be good for something. Bad takes sure, but good is selfish too.” Fredrick shook his head strongly. “Nuh uh, selfishness is bad.” At that the father pointed over to the deer. “We gotta eat somehow. To the deer, we look *real* selfish right now. We gotta take something to be good.” Little Fredrick pouted a bit. “I guess so.” Fredrick’s father continued. “Even the goodest of goods have to be selfish. Justice has to hurt someone when they get punished. Giving to charity makes the giver feel pretty darn good, or helps them look good for other people. Selfish doesn’t always mean bad. It’s just too much selfish that does that.” Fredrick nodded along, but he felt funny. His dad made sense but Fredrick didn’t like a word of it. “Now come on kiddo, let’s go clean up that deer. We need to bring dinner home for momma.”
The memory faded away, just like the other flashes that Faun’zala has given him. Every flash was another lesson. Fredrick understood: he was the good. This was the bad. Bad takes selflessly, while good takes selfishly. The Lunar Lord broke and corrupted so many souls... but the Lord gained nothing in return. It was, in a sense, a selfless cleansing. Things must die. But Fredrick, redeeming and resurrecting... was selfish. The power of choice inherently makes Fredrick’s ability selfish. There must be a reason, a benefit, to revive someone. Someone who can destroy selflessly is the perfect balance to someone who can revive selfishly. Fredrick took a deep breath, it was time.
He tried to fight back the sorrow. The anguish. The regret. Fredrick did not want to bring back his greatest foe, but if he didn’t... the selfishness of good would overwhelm this world. Faun’zala commanded balance. Fredrick finally understood what that meant. Balance isn’t destroying evil, but managing evil. To decide who must die and must not... that is selfish. That is the ultimate selfishness of good. It was time to learn a lesson from the Lunar Lord: to wield power indiscriminately. Fredrick laid a hand on Grimswell’s chest and began chanting: “*Elsvar elsvar returnatus, from the ashes, from the sadness. Respra respra revenala, return to me from Faun’zala.*” The hulking, armored form of the Lunar Lord began to twitch ever so slightly. “*Elsvar elsvar returnatus, from the ashes, from the sadness. Respra respra revenala, return to me from Faun’zala.*” Just a little longer... Fredrick almost stopped the ritual. The pain, the regret, it was almost too much. With heaving breaths and tears just like the ones that mourned for a mangled deer, Fredrick continued to chant. It wasn’t fair... “*Elsvar elsvar returnatus, from the ashes, from the sadness. Respra respra revenala, return to me from Faun’zala.*”
The titanic body within the tarnished steel plating shifted and stirred, like a body pulled from slumber. The Lunar Lord groggily awoke, and Fredrick waited. It took a minute or two for the sounds of war to wake up Grimswell. “You did it Freddy boy. You really did it.” Fredrick blinked owlishly: the Lunar Lord was far more... casual than before his death. “What? You were expecting that?” Grimswell picked himself and his armor off the ground. “Faun’zala demands balance. Did you really think she’d only have one champion?” Fredrick opened his mouth in protest... and then focused on Grimswell’s words. “Freddy, bud, you take care of the good guys. But somebody’s gotta take care of the bad guys. Even a killer needs a home.”
Fredrick wanted to shout. And scream. Killers are evil, killers are awful, killers are... and then he realized it. This whole war. All the deaths. All the pain. They were all meant to deliver him, Fredrick, and his rival, Grimswell, right here. To have this conversation. “So, Lunar Lord—” The Lord of Darkness interrupted the confused hero.“Please Freddy, call me Grimswell.” Frederick, slowly easing into the informality, began to speak.“Ok um, Grimswell, I guess you could say we’re... partners? Of a sort.” Grimswell let out a large, bellowing laugh. “Of course, of course, you’re catching on! We hate each other in public but in private... good and evil is just a measure of how much you hate the other guy. And we have the same boss after all.” At that, Grimswell’s massive hand gave Fredrick a friendly slap on the back... and nearly knocked Fredrick over. “Now Freddy boy, give me your hand. We have a ritual to do before the battle ends.” Grimswell placed a hand out with his palm up. The palm flowed with the green, sweet warmth of Faun’zala. And the same green warmth tugged at Fredrick, urging him forward. This is the feelings of the visions. Of the revivals. With the evidence of the goddesses’ magic before him, Fredrick could deny it no longer. There was in fact, another champion.
| 2019-12-26T15:13:31 | 2019-12-26T14:34:43 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] Earth finally manages to translate the first message sent to it from intelligent life elsewhere. It reads "Well, this is awkward. We didn't expect you guys to get this far."
|
Dr. Aiken Campbell rushed out of his office. He was half asleep when he recieved it. He checked the computers. Printed out were those words again. It wasn't a ruse, even the computers recognized words. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 words. He checked where the transmission was sent from. "700 ligh- oh my god!" This wasn't a satellite transmission. This was from someplace advanced. Someone.... advanced. He had to get this to his superiors and see what they thought about it.
Dr. Sanjay Feyerick was not at all pleased to be woken up at 3:00AM over 'aliens'. He yelled at his personal assistant to fire whoever forgot to refill the coffee machine and walked in to Dr. Campbell's lab. "What the hell did you bring me in for?"
"I told you, doctor, there was a signal sent from intelligent life. In- in our language no less!"
Campbell gave the transmission to Feyerick and let him read it over a few times.
"Show me where it was tr-"
"It was transmitted from 700 light years away in a crab nebula galaxy."
"We can pinpoint that specifically?"
"We can, but we usually don't, because it would take forever to scan the entire... space.... that way."
"Can we find exactly what planet it came from?"
"No we aren't that specific yet," chuckled Campbell.
"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Dr. Campbell."
"Yes, of course. In crab nebula 4554-398... I think I wanna name it Transmission Nebula.... there are recorded cases of habitable moons found on gas giants there."
"Like Jupiter's moon?"
"Sort of... only the gas giant is the size of our sun and the moon is about the size of Saturn."
"My God!"
"Yes, b- but we can't be certain that the transmission came from that moon. It could be literally anywhere else on Transmission Nebula."
"Stop pushing that name."
"Okay."
"I'm contacting Administrator Bridenstine. You're to inform him on this. Slightly more professionally than you did to me."
"Bridenstine as in... Head of NASA Bridenstine?"
"No, my dog, Bridenstine."
"You named your dog after the-"
"How the fuck did NASA hire you?"
|
He was there, relaxing on his armchair, hand closed in a fist supporting his head, and his thoughts.
Suddenly a tall, skinny man rushes in, may he be the harbinger of the good news? His white lab gown wiggles behind him, while his smile gives hope beyond any imagination.
He coughs, bows and gives the man on the armchair a sheet of paper. He suddenly jumps up, looks the scientist in the eyes and smiles joyfully, giving him a vigorous handshake. The whole world knew intelligent life just beyond earth contacted him and his people, they just wanted to hear what the cryptic message was about, no spy was able to get their hands on it, until now the man himself decided to spread the word around.
"Are we ready to announce it to the world?"
"We are, my friend, we finally got the hang of it."
Computers worked hard for days to decipher the infamous babbling of waves and sounds absorbed by the antennas of his secret laboratory. Who ever sent the message knew it was directed to him, to his country.
Suddenly, a light. The man and the scientist turn around, the window shatters in a thousans shards of glass, while an ominous white figure flies in the room like nothing was strange. He sets foot on the wood paving, moves two steps forward and bows gently to the man himself. He responds with a bow too, while giving him an hand.
His white, glowing figure transforms into an androgynous creature, bald and naked, no sexual apparatus, just a body created upon the idea of a man, as his newly formed arm gives that man a handshake, as humans intended.
"Well, this is awkward. We didn't expect you guys to get this far."
"We didn't expect you to take this much time to visit us. That's what the message says, indeed, and I have many question my distant, star forged friend."
"Not now, we saw how you advanced, not humanely, rather... how do you humans say it... scientifically. We have a task to accomplish, bring you forward even more, take you to the stars with us, may I explain my plan to you and your friend here?"
"Allow me to present myself first, my fellow guest."
"Allow me instead, please. My name is Gabriel, I am what your kind calls an 'angel'. May you go forth and present yourself."
"I have been waiting for this moment, majestic Gabriel."
The man bows again in reverence.
"My name is Adolf, Adolf Hitler, I am ready to hear your great plan, my lord."
| 2020-01-30T02:14:21 | 2020-01-30T02:11:02 | 51 | 35 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results.
|
“…And when the oppressors finally face their doom, they will know why is it that I’m called The Grudge!” I hammered the steel podium in front of me with a fist and watched it crumple like a tin can. The wave of stunned silence in the great field was breached by a triumphant uproar. My soldiers cried my name in reverence, their eyes gleaming, their hands raised in right angle in the ritual salute. Thousands upon thousands of rows of men and women, proclaiming their eternal devotion for me. I smiled one of my few chosen smiles saved for just such occasion, and presented them the ritual salute back. They loved this crap. The more they loved it, the more intense their faith became. The faith fuelled their belief in my powers. And so rose the power of The Grudge.
When I returned to my chambers it was well nigh past dinner. The ceremony had stretched too long, with me recounting all the evils that the oppressors had wrought, and how they would be paid back in their blood. Then my ministers seized their chance, having their own little versions of chest pumping speeches. They received applause too – and as long as they swore their fealty to me in the end, it would all serve only The Grudge. But Gods, it was exhausting.
Dismissing my aides for the day I retreated to my dining hall. It was difficult not to show I was starving in front of my underlings, but decades of cruel training had ingrained these reflexes in my bones. There was already someone sitting at the table, head down, scribbling along in notebooks and humming a cheerful tune – a sharp contrast against the servants who rushed to set the table with a tenuous perfection. He jumped as the echoes of my stride broke his concentration, then smiled.
“Hon, you are back! But its so late!” He checked his wrist. “Oh, poor dear, have you eaten anything?! Sit down, sit down!” He rushed to me, taking me by the hands and kissing me to the flustered astonishment of the servants,
“Michael!” I hissed, feigning annoyance. But I knew that he knew – this was the first time today that I was truly at ease. I cleared the creases of his coat lapels, enjoying for a moment his embrace before we parted.
As I sat down to eat he sat next to me, my ever doting husband. It was silly really, The Grudge herself being pampered by someone, and I kept telling him that. It had no effect on him.
“How was your day, darling?”
I sighed. There were servants within the earshot. “I would rather hear about you day, Michael.”
His face lit up. “Oh, I was thinking about what you said the other day, about me gaining some followers too – I think I came up with a great salute!”
“Oh?” I smiled. This had ought to be good.
“Yeah, let me show you. Tom, would you come here for a second?” The server nodded and rushed to the table, his face ever tense, droplets of sweat lining his temples. If I crushed him the man would ooze sweat like a sponge dipped in water, I thought.
“Oh, would you relax?” Michael chimed in and the spell was broken. The server blinked, breathing deeply and freely. “Remember what I taught you a today? Let’s try it out, okay?”
They raised their hands simultaneously as if greeting each other, then shifted forward and clapped each other palms resoundingly. I stopped chewing my food at that bizarre display.
“I call it the High-Five!” Michael declared. It was a nice ritual salute. I could feel Tony’s – or whatever the servant’s name was – devotion for my husband. Devotion without fear. Interesting. “Isn’t it great? You can go now, Tom, thanks!”
“Very… original, Michael.”
He settled down besides me. “You didn’t like it?”
“I liked it very much. But you seemed to have forgotten something. You can’t ‘High-Five’ a million followers. That would get a bit tedious.”
He laughed. The kind one does without fear of retribution. It was uncanny.
“I know! I am not planning to have a million of people following me anyway. A few will suffice. Let’s say – enough so that I may ‘High-Five’ them all.”
I stifled my grin.
|
She was an evil one. Real villainous through and through—the corruption of middle-aged priests and golden college boys alike. Dirty brown hair draped down in curls and rested just above her heart, black mascara flashing, ruby lipstick glistening. She was beautiful. They said she could keep a dead heart beating and stain a red heart black. They said she was a witch.
They said a lot of things about her, mostly untrue, because they did not know her.
James first met Aubrey at the corner of Ninth and Flowers. It was snowing. She stood in front of the planned parenthood clinic, clutching a paper cup of cocoa. Milky steam rose just as the thick snowflakes fell and quelled any thoughts of warmth. He needed the tax office next door.
On his way inside, he curtsied, the grim acknowledgment between two people trapped in a blizzard. On his way back, an hour later, she was still standing there. He was curious, but most importantly he was freezing the tips of his fingers off, and he felt a tiny bit sorry for her.
“Aren’t you a bit cold?” he asked.
“I like it out here,” she said. “It’s so quiet.”
He stopped for a minute to consider. The snow had muted all noise around them. No honking horns from angered city traffic. No squawking birds. No other students yelling and jeering down the thoroughfare. He considered her words and decided they didn’t matter. “It’s freezing!”
She laughed, reached inside her parka and flashed a packet of hand warmers.
“That’s cheating,” he said.
She agreed. Then she tossed him one. Despite the weather, her eyes flashed warm and bright and her voice filled with fire. “Break all the rules.”
He shoved the warmer into the pocket of his jeans. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“A friend—she’s inside. I promised to wait outside for her, and no blizzard can stop me.”
They talked for a minute longer. He learned her name, learned she was studying ecology and learned she hated cats but tolerated rabbits and scorpions. She had a pet whipscorpion named Fabio. He was fabulous.
They talked until the door to the planned parenthood swung open and her friend stepped out into the snow. She was shorter than Aubrey, wearing a grey woolen sweater that matched her frightened paleness. She held two fresh cups of cocoa. Aubrey ran towards her. In the silent storm they embraced, Aubrey holding her close as if she never wanted to let go.
James took his cue to leave without saying goodbye.
They met again, weeks later, on the college plaza. Spring tempted the air. Thick jackets devolved into sweatshirts and a few brazen, horny frat boys donned their salmon shorts. They passed the center plaza like migrating fish. A preacher stood on a stump and shook his meat-fists at them, preaching repentance.
“Infidelity is a sin!” he cried.
James found Aubrey watching the preacher.
“Does he know how silly he looks?” she asked him.
“I don’t think he cares.”
“I guess not,” she said, lips curling up in a smile.
He asked her out for hiking.
The hillside was covered in morning shadow, pockets of snow peppering the grey thornbush with radiant white. Scrub oak covered the rocks like a thick beard. The path was short. It wound through the forest, switchbacking lazily as it climbed.
The sun beat down as it rose.
And each measured footstep fell.
There was little to say. They drank in the beauty of the trail, the silent sweat-struggle as they climbed said more than words ever could. Panting breaths fell heavy at the summit. They lay back against the rocks and sipped water.
The view was immaculate.
The rocky tower rose above the valley as a monument to all things unbreakable. They could see for miles. But James wasn’t looing out at the valley. He lost himself in the deep pools of Aubrey’s eyes. Leaned in close. Felt the touch of her breath on his cheeks as his heartblood thundered as their eyes met like spring lightning. He bent towards her, sweet in the air.
“If this is sin, then I don’t ever want to be a saint,” he whispered.
Their lips pressed together.
Their fingers twined, heartbeats thumping towards all things evil.
| 2020-04-14T06:09:54 | 2020-04-14T06:02:04 | 320 | 143 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results.
|
My husband... Is an an interesting man. Not that bright, but truly kind, caring, and compassionate.
I am not.
They called me the Rose when I was a girl. Too beautiful for words, too graceful for a poem, too lovely for a song. I caught the eye of a King. He married me within weeks. He was dead within months.
I am ambitious, spiteful, and cruel. I took my armies and I conquered and I kept conquering, outfoxing, seducing, and outmanouvering every general who stood in my path. Until I came upon a land with powers even my armies could not match.
So I found someone who knew these powers, and I tortured him for their secrets. When I called the devil to sell my soul for power, he said my soul wasn't worth much but he'd gladly take my beauty. My lovely face, soft skin, and lithe body. I agreed. Beauty gave me power over men, the devil gave me power over all.
Now, I rule over the continent. The dead rise at my command, the living bow at my feet, and the millions who call me sovereign toil in the dust at my command.
My new husband was employed in my first husband's army. He wasn't a soldier or general. He works in logistics.
As it turns out, the phrase 'an army marches on its stomach' is very accurate. We would have never gotten very far without supply lines.
Whilst his conversation is dull, and he has no appreciation for the arts, the man does know how to organise things. He finds untold joy in neatly totted numbers and the latest maps drawn by the cartographers. I honestly couldn't have done this without him.
Of course, I didn't have to marry him. I didn't for a long time in fact, after all what is the appeal in such a man?
We met when I was The Rose. A newly widowed queen, on a new throne, with a husband dead under suspicious circumstances. And he did not laugh at my ambition. He set up meetings with generals, organised my calender, and earnestly protested my innocence to those who asked.
He makes sure that my advisors don't bother me after dinner. He personally tells the chefs that I hate onion in my food, so it's never served. He looked me in the eye once the devil took my beauty and said that he was glad I'd kept my soul.
Initially, he did think I was innocent. However, after 20 years of marriage he just accepts my 'quirks'. He now works for my government, trying to impress me with his latest 'evil' scheme. "What is more torturous then school?" He asks hopefully. His 'dastardly' plan for enforced slavery turned out to be an employment plan for the disadvantaged. His 'deep government' brainwashing scheme is... Healthcare.
Bless him. Yet I can't help but indulge him.
|
He almost tripped up the steps. The laughter that may have come from the hordes in the audience chamber were choked off at the slightest glance from the woman standing off to the man's right side. A small polite \*ahem\* left the man's soft mouth, he nervously cracked his knuckles and waited uncomfortably while the sounded echoed awkwardly through the silence.
"Warriors all!" He cried. And a cry it was. He paused for a moment while his words shuffled over the heads of ten thousand bloodthirsty warriors, towards the back of the gaping obsidian hall.
"Warriors, all." He repeated more softly this time. He looked nervously towards the woman who was running her finger over a silver ring on her opposite hand. It was a bright adornment on an otherwise thunderous portrait. If one looked closely, scarring could be found on the skin of her finger, as if the silver burned her while she wore it. Gazing at her face though, one would not guess at any pain it might have been causing her. She had a proud bearing. A towering cliff weighted against the rage of the sea. A sharp-angled jaw and a fulgurant gaze threatened all manner of unpleasantness on those who might defy her. Yet as she looked on this slight man who stood in front of her troops, the slightest flicker of warmth edged its way between the cracks of her granite facade. Lichen stubbornly grown in the most barren of climates.
"No one dares question the ferocity of your will." The man started. "The people of this world see the clouds of your pending domination and tremble no less than the ground on which you tread. The war that our Awful Lady has declared,"
He nodded deferentially to the woman on his right. The nod lasted for a fraction of a second longer than might have been deemed appropriate, and he cleared his throat again.
"...will demand much of you. There is no doubt concerning your ability to \*ahem\* 'tear our enemies limb from limb'," the stamping of iron-clad feet accompanied the man's discomfort with the phrase, "But war is an uncaring business and loss will be felt on both sides--although, our losses will obviously be considerably fewer than those of our, uh, barbaric foes." More stamping of feet.
"I offer my services, simply and humbly, to be a resource to any who would wish to process, uh, emotionally, anything that might be affecting their ability to wage war in the name of our Fearful Queen."
The man's conclusionary statements were met with awkward silence. He nodded his head to the men who looked around in confusion, turned to descend the stairs, and met the gaze of the woman who had single-handedly defied the world's greatest powers, fractured and splintered the alliances into fragments of their former power, subdued and rerouted resources from every corner of the known world to fuel her army and now stood to the side, watching her quiet husband do what he could do control his shaking legs.
| 2020-04-14T08:29:24 | 2020-04-14T07:32:56 | 146 | 85 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead
|
*Ring ring.*
"HELP! The zombies are right behind me and-"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"
"The-the what?"
"Your gun safety. Big black dial on the side of your rifle. Can't miss it."
"What? What dial?"
"You are holding a CCD rifle? If you are a customer of SurvivorLink I'm afraid you'll have to call them instead."
"No. Yes. I'm CCD."
"Excellent. Now if you-"
"Hold on."
The crack of rifle-butt on skull thudded through the phone speaker.
"Die! Die! Ok, Tracy I think I see what you're talking about."
*Flick.*
*BANG. BANG. BANG.*
"Haha! Gotcha, ya rotten fleshbags! Thanks a bunch, Tracy."
"That's great to hear. Have a nice day, sir. Please leave a review if you're satisfied with your experience. My manager would appreciate it."
*Click*.
*Ring Ring.*
"Oh my God. They're in my house what do I do?!"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried-"
"They've got Joe. Oh my god they've got Joe. Send help! I need help right now!"
"Sure thing, ma'am. I'll put you down right away."
The riffle of a notebook flipping to page 324. A click of a ballpoint pen.
"Your name ma'am?"
"Ahhh! They've reached the kitchen! Uh, my name's Gladis."
"Oh, my mom's name's Gladis. How lovely. And your contact number, Gladis? Either mobile or landline is fine."
"Uh. 0-4-2-1- Ahh! They've breached the door! Uh. 3-1-6-8- Ahh! They've got my leg!"
The scribbling of pen on paper stopped as heavy breathing replaced the voice on the speaker.
"Oh God. It's black. It's all going black."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Gladis. If you're satisfied with your experience please leave a review. Have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Ring ring*.
"Is this the Call Centre of the Dead?"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Yes, this is CCD."
"Good. Good. I need you to listen carefully and calmly, Tracy. I've done it. I've created the cure. Now I need you to patch me to the CEO. I'll send him the formula and we're gonna save the frikken world."
"Hi, sir. I regret to inform you CCD does not accept unsolicited advice."
"What? It's the goddamn cure for this this hell! Just send me the frik through!"
"Sir, I can redirect you to my manager if you would like."
"Okay. Fine."
A plastic chair scraped against corporate carpet. Then more scraping and a *plonk*.
"Sorry, he's out for lunch. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"What? What the fu... Look. What's the email address of your R&D department?"
"I'm afraid our email servers are full, sir. Part of the reason company policy rejects unsolicited advice now. We do accept fax though, the number is on our website."
Mumbled curses filtered through the headset.
"Fine. I'll do it. I'm sending it through now. Let me know when you've got it. I need that document in the hands of your head scientist pronto."
Tapping on the side of the fax machine. Then kicking. *Bzzzzzz.*
"Yup, got it. Lovely diagrams. My name's Tracy, have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Whish*. Rattle of a trashcan.
r/bobotheturtle
|
"Ma'am? Ma'am, please listen to me!"
The frantic shouting on the other end of the line seemed never-ending. I sighed silently to myself. Everyday I had to deal with hysterical people wondering what to do. I knew from the get-go that working in a call center was no picnic. I had done it before; two years for a tech firm. Somehow I had been able to convince myself that this time it would be different. That this time I wouldn't have to deal with complete idiots who couldn't even manage the most simple of tasks. Boy, was I dead wrong.
This... This was way worse. One would think that after four years people would have learned the basics. That they ought to know how to handle what was now everyday-events. But no. Oh no. What was supposed to be a fulfilling job of helping people manage difficult - possibly life-or-death - situations, aiding the ones in need, being a sage advisor for those who most craved it turned out to be little more than a hotline for morons who seemed unable to even tie their own shoes without guidance, let alone survive on their own in this day and age.
I hid my face in my palms and struggled not to let out an audible groan as I continued to listen to the elderly women I had on the line. A quick glance at the system we used to track our calls showed me that she had been jammering on for almost thirteen minutes now, not once allowing me to speak. I had tried, fruitlessly, to interrupt her ramblings a number of times but the manic woman just kept on going.
As the lady left the topic of her recently deceased husband and went on to talk about her estranged daughter I took a deep breath, slumped down in my office chair and kinda zoned out.
I sat in one of the smaller offices on the fifth floor. Due to the lack of space we were only five handlers in the room. I liked it though. We were a tight-knitted group and we had certainly had some fun together. My co-workers were the only reason I hadn't quit this dead-end job a long time ago. I noticed Simon looking over at me with a wide smile. He definetly recognized the look on my face. No wonder. He had dealt with his fair share of calls like my current one hundreds of times; he knew exactly what I was going through.
A brief moment of silence in the earpiece I wore. Was she done? A sat upright in my chair and opened my mouth to finally speak, when the woman began rambling again. Clearly she had just needed a moment to breathe. I cleared my throath loudly as I placed the weight of my head in my left palm, my elbow heavily placed on my desk.
"Ma'am?" I tried again with little effort. No luck. In the corner of my eye I saw Amrita. She sat, intently flipping through books while she at the same time searched the internet and our internal database. Why did she always get the interesting calls? Moments later I heard her say:
"Sir, I belive I have found your answer." Despite living in the U.S. for most of her life you could still hear a faint accent in her voice. We used to light-heartedly mock her because of the old stereotype; an Indian at a call center, even though she were the only Indian at the company. At least as far as I knew. She was definitely in on the joke, though, and often made fun of the situation herself. I liked Amrita. Not just because she was pretty, but also because she was really good at her job and because she was really nice. Always. Towards everyone. It kinda baffled me to be honest. I lost patience with people after mere seconds, but Amrita handled every call as a true professional, no matter how inane the person calling were.
| 2020-05-12T07:25:12 | 2020-05-12T06:22:29 | 1,637 | 67 |
[WP] After a long journey, you finally reach the dark lord's lair. Then your companion, who you met shortly after starting your quest, opens the door and says: "It's nice to be at home again, come in I'll make some tea."
|
I had always expected a castle of dark stone or obsidian, with spires and gargoyles and monsters to guard the gates. Not this petite cottage, nestled in the woods outside an innocuous town. The same innocuous town I had grown up in. There was nothing particularly evil about the place, nothing suspicious about the town or its denizens. It was a house I was familiar with, and I had admired it when I passed it on the way in and out of town.
I'd always dreamed of one day buying it, when I returned from my travels with chests overflowing with gold and riches. I would settle here, and build its humble garden into a maze of flowerbeds. I would grow herbs in the windows and collect books telling the stories of other young heroes, and forget about my trials and tribulations now that another corner of the world was safe. I could retire, happy and safe with my husband.
Never in my life had I thought it would be home to the most evil and sadistic creature on the continent. The lord who had ruined hundreds of lives with their schemes, who had set cities aflame and ordered hordes of demons to descend on the king's palace.
I steadied my shaking hand by holding my sword tighter. Now was no time to falter. I couldn't let my surprise stop me from fulfilling my promise to the king.
Each step towards the innocent, wooden door felt heavy. My body screamed at me to run, that something wasn't right. This couldn't be the place. This had to be a trick. It was some sort of trap, designed to throw me off my game and lure me into a false sense of security! That had to be it. Soon, the glamour would be ripped away and I would see the face of evil for what it was!
I set an armored hand on the brass knocker and hesitated. Why was I knocking? There must have been enchantments around the house. I pulled back and lurched forward with a boot. The door burst inwards with a *bang!* and motes of dust danced in the sunlight slanting over my shoulders.
A gasp answered my intrusion. Confusion stilled my heart.
"Brandon?" His smile was the same as I remembered. Even shocked as he was, the lopsided smirk never wavered. "You know, I love surprises, but don't you think breaking down my door is a little overboard? Well, I suppose it's *our* door. I wasn't expecting you to come back so soon! Are we heading out already?"
My heart thundered in my chest. "Why are you here?"
He laughed. Music to my ears, a sound I had craved in the months I had been gone. "Well, I suppose I'm capable of surprises, too. Remember? You told me you always wanted this house. Well, I thought I would surprise you! Welcome home."
"No--" I bit out, already shaking my head. I backed away, nearly tripping over my own feet. My sword slipped from my fingers and clanged against the front step as I stumbled into the yard. "No-- You can't be--"
"Husband? What's wrong?"
"It can't be *you*\--"
His face darkened, melancholy drawing his brows up and together. He followed me hesitantly, a hand on the frame. "I see," he sighed. "So you know. I was worried about this, after you wrote to me and told me you had accepted a position from the king. I knew this would happen some day."
I balked. "It's true, then?" I gasped. "You're the one responsible? You're the one who laid waste to the capitol?"
He ran a hand over his hair. "Come in. Let's talk. I can make us some supper and tea, give you a tour. I can explain--
"No! You helped me save so many people, but you were really a traitor to the nation--"
"I was *never* the traitor!" he thundered back, tears welling in his eyes, voice cracking with the strain. I felt like I had been slapped. "Those nobles are the real criminals! I never hurt an innocent -- *never*! Only the ones responsible. People are *starving*, Brandon! Children are dying because they don't have fresh water! What choice did I have?"
All those years adventuring with him by my side. Falling in love, and then out, only to come to our senses and embrace our differences. Growing at each others' side. I could still remember our wedding day so clearly, despite it being two years ago. When he had asked to rest for a few months, away from the road, I hadn't thought anything of it and gone to find some work in the capitol. But this-- *This* was what he had done in his time away?
I felt like my chest was going to cave in, my breath coming too rapidly, my heart being wildly. Faintly, I was aware of my husband calling my name. I had to get away. I couldn't do this.
"Brandon!" His face swam into my view as my vision focused, his gentle hands on my cheeks. I hadn't shaved in the time I had been away, and his fingertips scratched at my beard. "Brandon, breathe with me. You're having a panic attack. It's okay. Come inside and we'll talk."
My throat constricted as I tried to hold back tears. This man I loved so much, who knew me better than myself, and he was supposed to be my greatest adversary? I felt my will breaking under his hazel eyes. "Okay," I whispered. "Let's go inside."
His gentle smile was at once heartbreaking and comforting. He took my hand and squeezed, before guiding me up the steps.
|
Garrett would have liked to slice the door open and get this over with but that only worked when he first got this quest sent to him. He had been ordering a sandwich for lunch when his boss slid a letter over the table asking for help defeating a dark lord, with great compensation. Garrett was eager at the chance to show his skills and with this being his first high level quest he wasn’t going to take it lightly.
“ You want to slice the door down so bad don’t you” a teenaged girl with a spear and a scar on her forehead said as she appeared from the shadows, resting her arm on the spear and motioning for Garett to come closer.
“ Of course I want to get this over with I’ve spent 3 months searching for this dark lord lady and she’s just sitting in there, no security no traps no weapons or anything. What’s the point of staking out her place if we’re this close?
Garrett had met this girl, Olivia 3 days after he set on his quest. She was given the same letter and joined up with him in order to accomplish things faster. She never went anywhere without her spear Atluvo that was passed down from her grandmother. It could cut through attacks and swipe through almost any defense. She resembled a girl that grew up around a beach, tan Blue eyes, strong legs but with a cold attitude as if she’s had a hard past.
Garett on the other hand resembled a boy that grew up in a city, medium height, fair skinned with unkempt hair and a tattoo on his forearm of the moon. He was often making jokes to pass the time but was dead serious once battle started, he had his duel swords made from a fallen meteor that functioned as teleporting swords thanks to a upgrade he got from a friend back home. He could throw them and they would hit his opponents and come back to him. Together these 2 had traveled here and overcame the snow beasts, raging winds and the desert demons to get here and the goal was right in front of them.
“ We have to wait till sunrise Garrett that’s when she’s supposed to be at her weakest. If we just run in there now we’ll both be sitting ducks. It’s only 10 minutes till sunrise stop being antsy.”
“Olivia it’s not as easy as it sounds ya know. I’ve been waiting for this day for months on end and it’s here. I get to finally show the people back home what I’m really made of. And the pay is going to be one for the history books.”
“ You do realize I get half of the money right? It doesn’t only go to you and that excludes the money our employers take. Both of us are gonna be very well off but don’t act like we’ll be stinking rich”
“ Olivia why are you always looking at the gas half full? With this money I’ll be able to finally to refurbish my guild back home. Not to mention I can buy some new gear all this is down to its last use.”
“ That’s besides the point we have two minutes left till we can go down there and get inside. It’ll be nice and easy getting to the door so keep your weapons close in case any traps pop up or any magic tricks start happening. If you see a illusion of someone you know don’t get scared they aren’t real. And don’t touch the door handle. You have to let me do it.”
“ Olivia how do you know all of this, that wasn’t in the quest files or the bio? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“ No Garrett what could I possibly have to hide?”
“ Alright then... it’s sunrise, let’s go do this”
“ Lets do it Garrett”
(Olivia opens the door)
“ It’s great to be at home again. Garrett you want some tea?
“ Haha nice joke lets not play around and get this dark lord lady. This place gives me a bad feeling.
“ My house is incredibly welcoming and that dark lord lady is my mom”
“ What? Are you possessed or something? How many fingers am I holding up? What’s my name?”
“ Ahh Olivia my dear you brought him here unscathed. I knew I could count on you to bring the boy here in one piece” said a middle aged women with shadows falling off her body in the form of a dress and a black scepter in her hand.
“ Yes mom Hes here and he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. He thinks you’re really this big bad witch. It couldn’t be further from the truth”.
“ This Makes absolutely no sense Olivia. One moment you were sharpening your spear to stab her and hoping to get half of the money and now you’re telling me our target is your mother. Why should I believe a word you say?”
“ Garrett think about things for a quick second... did I ever tell you what exactly I wanted the money for?”
“ I just assumed it was for personal gain or too help your guild”
“ And where did I tell you I was from?”
“The south of the border. Where all the guilds are gone.....”
“And I said my spear was given to me by who?”
“ Your grandma who passed it on to your mom and that’s how you got it”
(Olivia throws Altuvo to her mother)
“ See boy it fits like a glove”
“ If this is really your mother why would you be on this quest with me?”
“Because Garrett we need you to help take down the guilds. We need you to help us overtake the guilds. They aren’t going on these quests to get rid of the spirits. They’re using the weapons they make to collect the spirits and store them until they have enough to reach they’re goal. And when it’s reached theyll break through and enter the world of the spirits. And only you can help us get into the guilds and stop the process”
“ What’s your answer Garrett yes or no?”
“ I don’t know”
| 2020-06-17T13:42:00 | 2020-06-17T13:28:36 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] You're thought to be one of the world's most powerful magic users because of your massive collection of cursed items, none of which have affected you. In reality, you're completely magic deficient, but smart enough to put on a decent set of gloves before handling any them.
|
Mikhael slowly knelt down and placed his sword on the ground, sizing up the group of guards that surrounded him. *Decades of service, and* this *is what brings me to my knees!* *Caught off guard by the jealous King.* As soon as the sword left his hand, two guards behind him grabbed his arms roughly and forced him to kneel lower. "Search him. This man has no shortage of secrets and weapons." The King's commanding voice swept through the room, echoing slightly throughout the throne room. "I wouldn't."
The guards glanced at each other, surprised at the casual force behind Mikhael's words, but the pair quickly obeyed. The prince - the king's thin-lipped son and personal torturer - emerged from the shadows beside the throne to pick up the discarded sword, a thin, slightly jagged tooth of black steel. *The King's son is a dead man,* Mikhael thought. *I can use this.*
"I'm told, Mikhael, Son of Kalimir, that yours is one of the most powerful magical bloodlines in the world."
Mikhael remained silent, but met the King's gaze. *All I have to do now is anger him.* The King turned away, then continued.
"And that may be true. But all known magical bloodlines only show themselves every other generation. Yours is no exception. Given that your father and your great grandfather were both magicians of legendary power, it's fair to assume that you are... how do I put this... exactly as powerless as you seem."
The King looked back at Mikhael's face and saw a slight smile.
"Is something funny?"
Still, no response. The King gave an almost imperceptible nod to the prince, who delivered a swift punch to Mikhael's face, leaving a scream in its wake. The prince reeled, fell backward, his hand a bloodied mess of flesh and shattered bone. The King's face went from confusion to concern to rage in an instant.
"You'll find, my good King, that I still have plenty of tricks up my sleeve", Mikhael declared, unscathed. His smile widened as he stood and turned to face the two piles of ash behind him, each of which had been a guard before they had taken his daggers.
|
On a grass field where cold wind breeze, 7 people are gathering.
Matios, the gravity wizard.
Luzad, the destruction wizard.
Tsurs, the time wizard.
Joslty, the elemental witch.
Drya, the witch of Life and Death.
Kresffutch, the divinity wizard.
Me, Hugh, the curse wizard.
Together we bond as Kings but today is different. After the war with Galaxy Jotun and losing over 80% of magic users, we decided to start a new era. An era of magic cultivation that not only improves people who born with magic talent but also will introduce magic to those who isn't talented.
"Everyone, today will start a new era! An era of magic cultivation. Not only we will enrich the natural born magicians, we will also add new people on our rank! People who born without magic can now use magic!" I proudly exclaim to everyone.
"That's against natural order. I'm not going to counter you but it is against the natural order." Kresffutch rebut me.
"I agree with Kresffutch, Hugh, I know you're just trying to help us and make our Galaxy strong again and strong enough to not lose 80% of magic users but going against the nature is bad." Drya said to me as she supports Kresffutch.
Well they do have a point. We still follow a natural order. There's no way that magic can defy natural order. But I'm a living proof. I just don't know how and when do I start on explaining this to them.
"Do you want to know where I'm getting this?" I seriously said to them as I don't have any other choice but to use my hidden card. I doubt there won't be other Galaxy attacking us and pillaging our resources, slaving our kin and utterly destroying our galaxy.
Everyone just looked at me. No nods, no smile. Just the dead air around us.
"I don't have a natural magic." I plainly told them.
Their look, their faces. The horror and surprised eyes. Mouth agape. Everyone is dead silent. No one can utter a word nor speak their mind. Yes, I know. I did several miracles on my campaign defeating the invading Galaxies. I also used 94% of my cursed items. I might be even near my death.
| 2020-08-26T04:33:47 | 2020-08-26T03:00:03 | 147 | 23 |
[WP] Humanity has been wiped out except for you, who managed to eke out a meager existence by yourself. Every day, an angel visits you and asks if you're ready for humanity to return. Every day, you respond, "No, not yet." Today is different. Today, the angel brought the Devil with them.
|
Greetings stranger,
It has been 37 years since humanity ended, or perhaps it is better said it has been 5 hours since humanity started again. I managed to survive the original extinction, a relic from a forgotten age. It all started with heavy storms. Many weren't worried, but I was, and I took shelter in a safe place. Then, the earthquakes and volcano eruptions started, but again I hid. And so the plagues and disasters came and went, and yet, I survived. In fact, I was the only one who survived.
So, when I was certain I had been forgotten, that no higher power cared enough about my existence, I started to collect knowledge on how to survive. It wasn't easy, but I managed. And then, when I thought I was finally alone, when I finally could get my work done, that damned angel appeared. It appeared to me in its human form, not its so-called true form. That meant that at least I wasn't a prophet.
"Hello Meredith, are you ready for humanity's return?" It always asked that damned question in the same way. I had always responded with a simple "No", and humanity hadn't come back, luckily. And so, at 3pm exactly, the angel would visit me in my humble abode and ask the question.
But not today. Today, the bastard came with the big man himself. No, not God. But instead, the Devil. It started with the angel asking The Question again. When I again responded with my usual no, the angel didn't leave. Instead, they told me: " Then, there is someone that would like to meet you." And with a smell of a meal I would at time find abandoned in houses, the Devil appeared.
*"Meredith. Your refusal of humanity's return cannot stand. Though I may seem like the guy that would appreciate its disappearance, Hell has frankly become boring with no new people. Please, allow for humanity to come back,"* spoke the Devil, with a voice that sounded like someone set fire to your eardrums, and which convinced me that Hell was just the Devil monologuing.
"Why should I care about the state of Hell? I don't live there. I, quite frankly, couldn't care less. Make this worthwhile for me," I responded.
*"Fine. I will grant you a wish, if you allow for humanity to return."*
"And why should I trust a creature known for his lies?"
*"The angel shall make sure I grant your wish."* To this statement, the angel nodded.
"Very well." This is where I have made the fatal mistake. I should not have trusted the Devil, no matter whether he would grant the wish or not. "I wish to be left alone by humanity, but still live on Earth." The demon king smiled. I knew I screwed up.
*"It's a deal."* And with those words, the Devil cast me in the ocean. Right when I was about to drown, the Devil gave me gills. Right when I tried to swim, the Devil gave me fins. Right when I was about to get crushed by the pressure, the Devil allowed me to pressurise automatically. I tried to return to land, but I nearly suffocated and returned to the water.
*"There,"* the Devil laughed, *"Your wish is granted. Humanity will leave you alone. Given that your name means Lord of the Sea, this seemed to me the best way to grant your wish."*
And that is what has happened up until this point. If you're reading this, you found my letter in a bottle, and I hope you will never meet me. And I hope you can pass this on to the rest of the world: the oceans are to remain unexplored, or else the world will flood and humanity will end once again.
Farewell,
Meredith Planque
_________________
Edit: Spelling
|
I’m on mobile, sorry abt the text wall.
Humanity had been wiped out a few years back, by a disease never seen before. It had an incubation period of a month, where it was highly contagious, but after the month ended, the victim dropped dead. No one knows where it originated from. Some thought it had come from scientists. Others thought it came from the animal world. Where it came from was not the problem, though. After the incubation period, people started to drop dead like flies. Day after day, humanity started to get wiped out. Eventually, there was only one person left alive. Me. I was apparently... immune. The day after everyone else left died, I decided to go to the store. It had all the materials and food I needed, so I could survive. On my way there, I saw something white in the distance. I didn’t think much of it. I went in and grabbed what I needed, then turned around to head back. As I walked out the door, the white was no longer in the distance. It was right beside me. An angel?! Pale skin, feathered wings, halo, beautiful, looks like one. But, what is an angel doing here? Then, the angel started to speak.
“Such sadness that humanity disappeared.” I was shocked, at how rough the angel’s voice was. He continued on to talk about how I needed a break from humanity it seemed, and so they released the disease. A symptomless but highly contagious one. The angel continued on to say, “Now, whenever you would like, humanity can return.” “No, not today,” I replied. The angel allowed that, then disappeared into the distance. Day by day the angel came back and asked the same question. Each day I responded with, “No, not yet.” Eventually, the angel stopped coming from far away and just appeared and disappeared next to me. It’s been 5 years now, and I have since moved out of my house into the woods. The forests are thriving without humanity, and berries, meat, food is abundant. The angel appeared next to me again today. However, this time was different. The angel wasn’t alone. Standing next to me on my other side this time was Hoculus, a demon. Who also happened to be known for death. I started breaking it in a nervous sweat, and stuttered out, “H-h-h-hello, w-what do y-y-y-y-you n-n-need?” The angel next to me explained that Hoculus also needed a break, but from the whereverpeoplegoafterdeath. “You’ve taken too long and the placepeoplegotoafterdeath is getting rowdy. You’ll take his spot and he’ll take yours for a year. After it ends, humanity will return to the Ziaphonic Age,” demanded the angel. I want exactly happy, but there was nothing I could do. The Ziaphonic Age took us back a couple thousand years, to flying cars and only interplanetary travel between our planets. I grudgingly agreed, then headed off to grab my things. “Where area you going?” Threatened the angel menacingly. “To grab my stuff,” I replied. “You won’t be needing them,” the angel dismissed before grabbing me. The next thing I knew, you were in a freezing stone room. “This is your roo-“ the angel started before noticing the surroundings. “Nope, wrong place.” Taking me to a luxurious room, the angel proceeded to explain the layout of the place, and all that I had to do was supervise the people on the large tv on the wall. *Maybe this won’t be so bad*, I thought. I sat down on a super soft couch, then laid my head back. My eyelids felt heavy, and as me conscious faded into darkness, I failed to see the gathering and unrest on the screen.
This was my first attempt at writing a prompt, hope you enjoyed!
| 2020-10-24T06:49:33 | 2020-10-24T05:15:30 | 160 | 53 |
[WP] Humanity has been wiped out except for you, who managed to eke out a meager existence by yourself. Every day, an angel visits you and asks if you're ready for humanity to return. Every day, you respond, "No, not yet." Today is different. Today, the angel brought the Devil with them.
|
I had always wondered how much of Gabriel’s visits, his constant attempts at convincing me that humanity should return, were his own way of entertaining himself.
The archangel would stop by, ask for some tea, and we would chat. We would talk about life. Our favourite books, our favourite poems. He always wanted to talk about art, Heaven’s scholar and an artist, he’d told me he was.
“Really got our work cut out for us up in heaven, all those people. We just weren’t ready for it.”
“You aren’t going to guilt me into making this choice Gabe.” I replied with a laugh.
Humanity had disappeared ten years ago, all dying in one way or another. I was all that was left. Gabriel often brought other angels to see me, a real spectacle they thought, the last living human.
It wasn’t so bad. He was always friendly, and his unspeakably long life meant he had some wonderful stories to tell, from all parts of history.
Some days he would even come to paint me. Most days he came to ask me that dreaded question, and disappear.
Today, I was left to stare at him as he ate his tea and biscuits. “You’ve barely spoken, my friend, is everything alright?” I asked.
“Kind of...” His wings fluttered nervously. “It’s... there’s someone who wants to meet you. He’s not like the others, well he is, but he’s... he’s just running late, that’s all.”
“I don’t really like my home becoming a zoo, you know.”
Gabriel bit his lip, but continued to eat rather than reply. Most days he would never shut up. I knew something must be at least bothering him to leave him so quiet.
A knock on the door. I instinctively stood, but he shook his head, and answered it for me. “Oh, Gabe, wonderful, this is the place, I’ve knocked on three damn wrong house before finding you!”
“It is. Play nice, brother.”
“I’m always nice.”
I stood, and stared at the man so casually helping himself into my home. He was taller than Gabriel, so tall he barely fit through my door frame. His long, blonde hair fell around his face, wildly curly, and hulking white wings were folded neatly against his back.
“The last human... you weren’t kidding....” he shook his head of his awe, and smiled at me.
“That’s me. Apparently.” It never got old really. I had just been a young adult at the time, between jobs, but getting by. Now I was a spectacle. When it wasn’t overwhelming or troublesome it felt good.
“And I hear Gabriel has been convincing you to bring the rest of your kind back.”
“Trying to convince me.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes at my correction.
“Really, Father told him to give up years ago, but he decided spending time with you was much more fun than working in purgatory with all the painfully average humans.”
“Ah! Nonsense! I’m spending time with a friend that’s all!” Gabriel was flustered, but turned away, smoothing his hair awkwardly. His reaction made me laugh. I’d always known he had his motives but that wasnt a reason to turn away his company. “Just introduce yourself already, you’re so rude.”
“Well. My name is Lucifer.”
I could only stare at him, my mouth open. I had always heard his name, even as a child, but to see him, a handsome man, his eyes soft, kind even...
“I know, I know, I know. Get the shock out of your system, my dear.” He laughed. “I get it a lot believe me. Come on. You should know by now that we demons aren’t all that bad. Well... fallen angel. Sort of a demon.”
He was right. Humanity was gone, but the world hadn’t ended. Shops remained. Power remained. There were more demons in my day to day life than I had ever thought, and apart from the angelic interruptions, little had truly changed.
“Anyway, we can talk more later. The angels aren’t used to all this hard work, with all those dead humans on their hands, they want them back here. I’ve got a counter offer.”
I turned away quickly. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I understand that Gabriel has been pushy, coming daily and all.” I jumped at Lucifer’s touch on my shoulder, but it seemed well intentioned. “And I don’t blame you for pushing back on that.”
I tried desperately to scour his words for some sort of hidden meaning, some manipulation. If I was speaking to Lucifer, I was speaking to someone who meant to have embodied evil. More than that, living and working around demons, it was just something you had to learn to do. The last human left. Everyone I met wanted a piece of my soul.
“Humanity is not always kind, and I have heard from some of my people that you live well, and work hard. Besides, it’s a lot of pressure to put on someone who was no one before all this started. Believe me, I understand pressure. Pressure is what caused me to fall from Heaven. The world should never be on any one persons shoulders.”
His words rung true, but I held my elbows, turning to Gabriel for help. He still smiled, was still kind. I couldn’t see any trace of unease in the angel I had known for so long and he simply nodded.
“So forget being something special, something that angels oogle at, and demons drool over. Become one of my kind. Become a demon... nothing will change, not really. Just... gets these guys of your back, huh?”
“How can I trust you?” The words came out shaky and I cursed at myself. I turned and stared Lucifer in the eyes, something I never thought I’d say I had done.
“You cant. We just met... but...” he hesitated, touching his finger to his lips. “It will give you all the time in the world to see what the future holds. Hell’s a nice place too, lots of jobs, and people...”
“I... I can’t just be a demon, that’s insane!”
“But humanity’s fate will no longer be your burden. It never should have been my friend. Forgive me for that.” Gabriel spoke so softly I could barely hear him, his words filled with sadness. I had never seen him like this in all the years I had known him.
I cursed as it shook my resolve.
I wished I could say that I couldn’t believe what I had been hearing but I could. Both stared at me so expectantly, Lucifer thinking to my future, and Gabriel thinking of my wellbeing.
Gabriel was right. The future of humanity was not my burden to carry. It never should have been. I never wanted it to be. “So Lucifer... you’re saying my life wouldn’t change?”
“As it is? Not one bit. Besides all the attention. You won’t have angels stalking you at least. My son and other friends of mine were human once, so you won’t be the first of your kind, or anything! You’ll just be you! Gabe here’s attached so I think you’ll still get visits. What do you say?”
I was silent, for a while longer, just looking between the two. “Alright. Sounds crazy. I’m in.”
|
I had long since realized that humanity could not organize themselves to save their lives. That is why I took it upon myself to do it for them. 30 years is how long it took for me to come into contact with an angel instead of a demon. There were several times beforehand when I believed I had contacted a benevolent divine being before I realized that I was being taken along in a ploy to separate my mortal body from my immortal soul. My experiments with contacting a being on the other side started out small. Ouija boards, Astral Projection, Spirit Boxes. But those could only rarely contact a non corporeal entity that was tethered close to Earth. What most people understand as Heaven is actually far, far away. There are multiple ‘’Heavens’’ but the closest one to Earth takes up the majority of the Boötes void. This is a fact I managed to piece together from corroborating pieces of stories told by demons. I have no reason to believe that they were lying, especially when I did contact an angel by focusing my energy into trying to speak with a spirit from there instead of Earth. I was approaching my 50th birth day when on one of my projection sessions I formed a link with a servant of God instead of the Devil.The voice sounded far away, and sounded neither quite like a man, or a woman. One curiosity I noted however is that the being seemed to change speech patterns in each syllable. As if it was taking words that people were speaking on my world at that moment, or possibly in another time even, and splicing them into a coherent sentence.
‘’You have come where no mortal should come and broken a law not even divinities should dare to cross’’, the Being commanded in a tone that would have likely tortured my ears if the sentence had even been into contact with them in the first place.
‘’I come to you to make a request, a small one in the grand view of the Heavens, but an unimaginably world changing plea for the people of Earth’’.
‘’Earth?’’ The angel repeated in a questioning tone.
It only then occurred to me that perhaps this angel, if that’s really what I could call it, had simply never heard of Earth. How many humans could fit on our relatively small planet? How many birds, ants, bacteria? How big or small was an Angel that Earth was simply out of it’s notice. Perhaps they did know about Earth but simply had a different name or no name at all for it. There was also the possibility that like the demons, Angels were only to focus their energy on particular planets. Perhaps this wasn’t an Angel for Earth that I was contacting at all.
Where the Angel was from or what it’s favorite planet was is irrelevant compared to stopping humanity's slow but steady desecration of the Earth. I had to make my appeal and I had to make it fast before the Angel decided it would be better to turn me into a pillar of fire or salt.
‘’Wipe out humanity to save humanity’’
That didn’t come out quite the way I intended, but just like speaking to a person of higher authority than you, speaking to an angel makes one more than a little nervous.
‘’There is no sense in how you speak, how someone as ignorant as you ever managed to come into direct contact with a higher power can remain one of the greatest mysteries of the Universe, only those few that are above me will know.’’ the Angel replied. ‘’However you managed to contact this place, it is likely others know the method as well’’ it continued. ‘’In order to prevent constant contact between two classes of beings who are destined to be apart, I will accept your request to wipe out humanity.’’
My plan had begun to fall apart, I had to act fast, ‘’What about my soul?’’ I blurted out. Among the many things I learned about demons that fiction got right, is that they do in fact enjoy owning slaves, Hell is a cruel place even for demons that aren’t tortured constantly, having the soul of a young man is just like owning a slave in historical accounts. It is a sign of status. Not that I personally believed an Angel would feel so insecure to hold onto a status symbol. But it was the only thing I believed I could offer that had any worth to a non mortal entity.
‘’I’ll give you my soul to wipe out humanity *temporarily* so that my planet can heal.’’
Now obviously I thought about how an Angel could take my soul whether I wanted it or not, but I was gambling on the hope that maybe soul stealing was some kind of crime for Angels. It is not for demons, on 3 occasions, I’ve nearly had my soul taken forcefully from me, it’s completely painless because your body doesn’t have nerves connected to your soul, but you will know it’s happening if you start to lose consciousness.
The Angel went quiet for what seemed like an eternity, as if an angel didn’t have a speed of light thought process. ‘’We have an agreement’’, the Angel finally said. It didn’t occur to me then, but in the time after humanity was removed from the planet, I realized why the Angel agreed to my request. It didn’t want just one eternal servant, it could wait an eternity for some scared fool to repeat this process, and then it could wait another eternity for the next one, and the next, and the next.
I asked the Angel how it would go about shutting down humanity so Earth can recharge, not in those exact words however, I wanted to make sure the Angel understood everything I was saying, I was after all, toying with every life on Earth. The Angel told me that it had to contact Earth’s consular officer. The one in charge of souls from there who were denied entry into Heaven.
I took this as meaning: The Devil
It was a week later when I received a link from the other side while I was dreaming. The Angel had come to tell me the terms of the agreement. This is the summarized version.
* Everyone on Earth would be forced into a state of hypnosis, people who were in situations where this would kill or greatly injure them will be guided in a trance into a safe spot before Step 2
* Everyone on Earth will be transformed into a pillar of rock, the stone will not be affected by erosion in any way.
* I will be forced to live the full lifespan the human soul allows for: 969 years. I will heal normally, if I were to be in a situation where my body was destroyed, I would be brain dead but my cells would not rot. I will not get sick either.
* The Earth will heal, and at the end of the 969 years, the Devil will take 25% of my soul and the Angel will take the other 75% of my soul
* Humanity will revert from their pillars into a new world and will have to struggle to survive for a time, but will not be in danger of polluting their world to ruin again for a long time.
For a long time, I thought about going back on my deal, the last 500 years were borderline torturous for my decrepit body, and every day the Angel would ask me if I was ready for humanity to return. Every day I steeled myself and refused. Finally the Devil came to take a quarter of my soul. I think I lost certain feelings when that happened, but I‘m not sure which ones. My life has ended and a new afterlife will begin for me now. Hopefully angels are as nice as they said.
| 2020-10-24T08:17:58 | 2020-10-24T07:25:25 | 72 | 33 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look."
|
SCP-9432 (Temporary ID/Awaiting Permanent Clasification)
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: A single copy of SCP-9432 is to be kept in a system of twenty four (24) computers isolated from any other devices capable of displaying a digital image. Each computer must automatically delete any file sent from it. After sending a file, the computer must become incapable of sending or receiving emails for at least three hours. Finally, each computer should not be able to display a received email for at least an hour after receiving it.
A single Class-D personnel is be locked in a cubicle containing a computer on this system. They are to be rotated on an 8 hour basis, and may be provided with non-digital forms of entertainment. They are to send emails containing a file of SCP-9432 to other computers in this system. In the event any person exposed to SCP-9432 begins to display symptoms SCP-9432-1, they are to immediately be administered Class A or B amnestics.
In the event of a breach, an AI already has been set up to trace where the image has been sent or sent itself to. All phone communications in the area, except this absolutely necessary for maintaining functions, will be automatically shut down. They are to remain shut down until a “live” copy of SCP-9432 can be found and contained. After a “live” copy has been found, communication is to stay shut down for at least 8 hours. During these 8 hours, Class A amnestics are to be administered aerially to the affected area.
Description: SCP-9432 is a cogniohazardous image of a walrus (odobenus rosmarus). When exposed to SCP-9432, the subject feels an overwhelming urge to send the image to others in any way possible, including text, emailing, and uploading to various social media. Subjects usually express extreme excitedness over sharing this image, often stating that it is a “beautiful walrus”. This effect lasts for up to 4 hours, after which the subject returns to normalcy.
Each instance of SCP-9432 is only active once. That is to say, it loses all cogniohazardous properties once it is observed once. Sending SCP-9432 creates a new instance. “Live” instances also lose their cogniohazardous properties after existing for exactly 8 hours. The only exception to this is when there is only one “live” instance of SCP-9432. The “live” instance will then, instead, send itself to a random computer or telephone on the planet before becoming inactive. There has been no observed maximum range to this sending.
It has been observed that repeatedly sending SCP-9432 between computers on a closed system is enough to prevent spread. However, care must be taken that nobody exposed to it has any other device capable of sending images on their person, otherwise they will use it to create more copies of SCP-9432. Files on the closed system are to automatically delete themselves primarily to prevent clutter and the buildup of inactive instances.
Additionally, each time a subject is exposed to SCP-9432, there is a slight chance (around 0.084%) that they will begin to display symptoms of SCP-9432-1. This chance rises exponential the more times one is exposed to the image.
SCP-9432-1 is a disorder caused by repeated exposure to SCP-9432. When infected, they subject will begin attempting to mimic a walrus themselves. This includes: Mimicking noises, mimicking behaviors, and taking up their dietary behaviors. Those afflicted will eventually kill themselves via drowning, hypothermia, or disease as they attempt to mimic behaviors.
SCP-9432-1 may be countered via the application of Class A or B memestics with a 99.86% success rate.
|
Insomnias a bitch, ask anyone that has it. Most assume that it’s just falling asleep that’s a hassle, for me, that’s the least of it. I often find myself scrolling through my phone in the early hours of the morning with little recollection of when I woke up. After all, insomnia is boring. When I look over and see the notifications on my phone, how can I resist? All of this would be fine if it were just me suffering, but I didn’t anticipate these struggles when I married. My poor wife wakes up almost as much as I do, she’s always been easy to wake. Many times it ends with us sitting in silence on our phones, almost like a game of chicken to see who would put their phone down first.
This morning was different though. I woke at about 3 in the morning to the sound of my phone. This was very odd as I always muted my phone before bed. To no ones surprise, my wife woke to the sound as well. I was still groggy, so I couldn’t make sense of all the notifications, but there were tons of them. Looking to my wife for answers, all I got were more questions. I’m not saying she looks great when she wakes up, but she looked terrible. Eyes wide open, skin pale, and all she could do was stare mindlessly into her screen. Looking to my phone, I now see almost every notification is telling me to look at “the walrus”.
“Hey honey do you know what this walrus everyone is on about?” Her eyes almost instantly shifted from the phone to my eyes.
This was a look I only saw when she was truly furious, yet he smirk was telling me something else.
“It really is a beautiful walrus you know, look. Look!” Now I’ve never been a careful man, but even a fool would know something is up. My wife has never so much as shared a meme with me this early in the morning. Frankly it’s kind of a mutual agreement that this time is to be spent in silence. She would never be this aggressive about anything, much less a walrus.
“Honey, you’re scaring me. What is so important abo-“ she cuts me off, looking very annoyed by my hesitation.
“Is there a problem here? Look at the damn walrus before I make you!” My wife now physically taking action to spread the walrus, she begins shoving her phone in my face. Determined not to see the walrus, I make a run for it. Grabbing the slippers by my bed and my car keys, I bolt for my car. Before I know it though, my car is surrounded by my neighbors, all with the same look on their face as my wife. In unison, they all chant “look at this walrus Mike, isn’t it beautiful?”. I then realize there is no escape except the truth. I can’t outrun the walrus, only face it. As all my neighbors crowd around me, I mentally prepare myself. Pulling out my phone, I click one of the notifications. Prepared for the worst, the page loads up. As I see this walrus, colors fill my eyes. My feet begin to feel the pressure lift. This sensation is one that can’t be replicated, this is a feeling many meditate their whole life to achieve, and even then they still don’t. This was the way of the walrus, this was the truth. There is no right, wrong, or purpose to any of this. All along, it was walrus, and it always has been.
In reality though, that feeling was temporary. You see that was the story of how I lost my body to walrus. Walrus was just a vessel to trap our true consciousness behind a wall, and make our body’s mindless slaves to the walrus regime. If I or my wife had been wise enough to look at the official warning before the chain mail, we could have been saved...
| 2021-01-11T19:42:35 | 2021-01-11T19:09:32 | 53 | 17 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all!
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I couldn't help but sigh as I look at the castle far in the distance. Impatiently, I wait for my ship to depart and bring my family and me to the faraway lands. I need to leave this kingdom. Fast. It's already doomed. Did this "brat turned king" really think that his predecessor gone senile? He'd even threatened me with execution for "conning his old man into believing in superstitions" before removing my position of a royal guard. Just because you can't see ghosts doesn't mean that they can't see - or influence - *you*. My Clan protected the royals from possession for many generations, and now our service is over. How long would it take for the new king to be driven to madness? How long would it take for him to destroy everything his predecessors built?
"What do you think, my friend?" I ask the ghost of the old king who's standing opposite of me.
"Please save my foolish son and my Kingdom, I beg you!" The transparent man in luxurious clothes and golden crown kneels before me.
In silence, I look at the soul of the person who was more than just my liege. He was - is - my closest friend. As a king, he never knelt before anyone in his whole life. And now, in death, he lowers his head before insignificant little me - someone who vowed to serve *him*.
Sighing again, I look in the direction of the cabin where my family waits for my return. Sorry, but it seems that you'll need to leave without me.
I still have one last job to complete. My life as The Royal Exorcist isn't over yet.
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Waves crashed as a pale individual gazed into the ocean, his face scrunched as he pondered. "Perhaps I should have taken the risk of documenting his father's actions regarding construction in this settlement, but there was no guarantee he would believe the truth before him." He sighed, walking away from the bustle of the port along the coast as he returned to a secluded hut near a river that kissed the sea.
"I'll have to report this to the others." He concluded as he began to assess the materials on his desk. He took a leaf of papyrus and began crafting his script.
To the untrained eye the code would appear to be a greeting followed by request for a recommendation of employment to an individual stationed in Egypt, but behind the words lay a message.
As he wrote he sighed in frustration. "The timing of the Resistance was unfortunate, but the whims of human violence can't be helped." The son of the emperor had been stationed across the sea to take action against those that resisted the Empire, but the lack of contact between the son and the former guard prevented him from trickling information to him about his work; It would be difficult to drop bricks of information and expect a man to carry that weight from the start.
His lips curled as he wrote a document of lies, as his post was unmanned and he would prefer to have a full team at his disposal to retake the facility.
When deciphered, key words appeared:
Urgent. Loss of influence at Pompeii, Keter in facility at base of Vesuvius.
"That'll get them moving." He snorted, but he couldn't smile anymore. He couldn't help but worry over the current situation. The longer the facility was out of their control the more likely human intervention would result in disaster.
"I just hope they get here in time."
| 2021-02-28T05:08:55 | 2021-02-28T04:46:41 | 72 | 28 |
[WP] I'm sorry... You're telling me they drink water? One of the most dangerous liquids in the known universe and they just drink it???
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“Yes. They breathe Oxygen too, and their lifespan is only that of just under 100 years.”
“Are they idiots? Haven’t they seen the trees they help to keep alive live longer than they do using the elements they simply expel?”
“They don’t seem to notice, much like the animals they keep as pets tend not to question why their human masters live longer than they do.”
“Surely this can’t be, their entire planet is coated in the poison, and they’re actively making it worse with what they dump in it!”
“Oh but that’s not all, Klax, there’s animals that live in the water too.”
“Oh you did not just tell me there are organisms that have adapted to that goop...”
“Ahhhh but I did, they take the same oxygen that the humans do and they breathe it too.”
“How? How can this whole planet thrive on something that is actively killing them! Isn’t there anyone trying to get them to leave?”
“No, Klax, they’ve no known ability for interstellar travel. Ironically, if they were to do anything of the sort, they’d use carbon based fuels and methods, despite being made up of it themselves. They’re literally using their life force to get their lives into space.”
“Oh that’s right, they’re all carbon based! What a pity, truly the highest beings are that of Calcium and Nitrogen base.”
“Right you are, Klax, we truly are the highest beings.”
“So what else did Trilks have to report? Surely he’s learned more than the water bit since his great trip to earth....”
*the rest of the conversation seems to static out, nothing else comes through Ted’s receiver... his next goal is to find out just who this Trilks is they speak of, and what their true intentions of sending a scout to earth may be.*
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It had been a bad idea to venture into the crash site alone.
Alex, cursing his existence, was being observed a grey skinned skinny goblin, studying him and his possessions closely as he was tied up to a stretcher.
Suddenly, the goblin spoke up "What are you doing with this poison? Did you wish to attack us?"
Alex was taken aback. "What poison?" He asked.
Holding up his water bottle, the goblin seriously replied "This poison."
Alec couldn't help but laugh. "That's water. We, humans, Um.... drink it."
The goblin shook in his place and typed something into his keyboard. Suddenly a voice flared up "I'm sorry... You're telling me they drink water? One of the most dangerous liquids in the known universe and they just drink it?"
Alex looked his kidnapper in the eyes "What do you mean dangerous? Of course we all drink water. Isn't it one of the requirements for life?"
The goblin scratched his bloated forehead. He found the lack of knowledge in these humans amusing.
The voice, however, remained unimpressed. "Do you know anything about how reactive water is? Anything made out of it won't last dogsh*t and would have replaced every now and then. And its tendency to dissolve stuff... ATTACK! ATTACK! CODE RED!"
The goblin had spit on his face, leaving a sizzling red spot. Alex rolled around in his stretcher, hoping for a way to loosen the cable that tied him to place. Suddenly, a sharp jolt ran through him as pain took hold. He had been tased.
The voice hissed "We wanted to leave you alive, but unfortunately for you, looks like we'll have to find out more about your species."
Alex's scream did not leave the spaceship, niether did his body.
| 2021-03-23T20:22:43 | 2021-03-23T16:03:35 | 153 | 93 |
[WP] Your father died and left you his destiny to save the world, which will cost you your life in the end. But a week before the final battle, you happen to run into... your father, who is definitely still alive and obviously scared you've found him.
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My father did a good job at faking his death, I'll give him that. But not good enough. The grand, fated hero of prophecy doesn't just accidentally die early.
The first clue was the site of the battle itself. According to the aftermath that was left, a horde of the Dark Lord's zealots ambushed the camp in the night and slaughtered everyone: the great hero himself and all of his companions, dead just like that. Countless corpses in the cult uniform were also present, so the heroes put up a fight. But how did the cultists get the jump on them?
One of my father's companions was Rasmos, one of the greatest and most paranoid wizards in the land. He would keep my father's party under invisibility almost excessively, and even when they camped would litter the perimeter with wards and glyphs. There was little damage at all to the outer perimeter of the camp, indicating not a single trap went off when they were attacked; Rasmos died first, deactivating all of his magics, and it was from someone in the camp. His body was discovered with nothing more than a single dagger to the back.
The next clue was the party's remains. Every single one of them, Rasmos included, died to more than just battle wounds. First of all, they were all under-equipped. Leville, an archer without peer, was found without his signature quiver of golden arrows; those were found washed up in the river down stream. The knight Kayla was missing her shield, and that was found buried in the dirt just a few malms away. Second, I discovered poison in all of their systems when performing my own autopsies on the bodies. On further investigation, this same poison was found in a cooking pot in the camp site. Everyone had this poison in their system... except my father's body.
The final clue was my father's corpse, which had been impaled by a whole quiver of arrows, two spear heads, an axe to the shoulder, and a sword through the stomach. Clearly, undeniably dead. But again, was strangely the only body lacking poison, and was also the only member of the party who wasn't missing his equipment. So I investigated the body thoroughly, and discovered that beneath the skin of his right forearm was an inscribed rune. The magic was still active, so the user was still alive as well. I dispelled the rune, and the glamour over my father's corpse disappeared to reveal that a man I had never seen, perhaps one of the cultists, had taken my father's place.
There was undeniable proof that my father lived on, and now that I've dispelled his magic he surely knows that he's been found out. I've traced the magic signature to the barren wastes where people go to be forgotten. He cannot run from his fate, and I will make sure of it.
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“It will all be worth it in the end” James mumbles as he walks through the remains of his home town. It was destroyed by the that winged monstrosity three years earlier. The same day James’s father died. The day James took up his father’s flaming sword and swore that he would end this war at any cost. Even his own life.
“Soon. Soon it will all be over” thought James as he walks up to ruins of his old house. In the corner of his eye he spots a dark figure. “Shit an enemy spy” James says as he unsheaths his sword. He raises his sword high in the air as a powerful gust of fire envelops it. As he swings downwards the fire rushes toward the enemy in a crescent wave. James causally walks towards the direction of his strike expecting to see a charred enemy spy but it utterly shocked by the sight of.. of his father?
“Oh James, um I’ve come back from the dead to give you a message before your final...”. “cut the shit dad” yells James. “ I thought you were fucking dead! Whats going on?” demanded James. “Ok ok, fine. You caught me. To be honest, I didn’t think I could win against our enemy so I faked my death” his father explains. “So you decided to send me to die instead!” yells James. “Well, yeah. I thought that if he killed you, he would just let me be. Him and I used to be really good friends. Hey, maybe I can put in a good word for you and we can both survive this shitshow” says James’s dad.
“But... but that bastard sent plagues upon this land. Caused natural disasters. His followers have massacred millions in his name and now you just want to beg him to spare our lives!!” James screams. “Son, we never had a chance to begin with. He’s too strong. You know that” pleads James’s dad.
The statement shocks James. Seeing his proud, powerfully father admit defeat for the first time. James looks over his father and notices that he’s changed. His face looks old and tired. The years of fighting weighed on him. But the years of fighting weighed on James as well. Seeing his father look so... so weak only strengthens his resolve to defeat their great enemy who put his father in this miserable state.
“I don’t care! I’d rather die fighting against him, fighting for freedom, than die a coward” James proudly declared. “I’m sorry it has to be this way then” James’s dad says as he plunges his hand straight into his son’s chest. “Why dad...” James barely muttered with the last of his strength. “It was the only way he’d let me live. God demanded that I sacrifice my first born. I love you James” Lucifer says in a choked whisper as he clutched the remains of his only child.
| 2021-06-06T22:19:20 | 2021-06-06T21:14:33 | 75 | 50 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid.
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"The trappings of fame," thought the Dark Lord as he rode into town. "Wenda's ale is worth the trouble."
He placed a simple glamour over his face. He could handle any would be heroes, but he didn't care for the annoyance. Tonight he was again Todd, the traveling merchant.
Todd entered the tavern and was greeted with an uproar. Visitors were rare in this town. He chatted with the locals and sat at his usual table.
Wenda, the tavern owner, placed a tankard in front of Todd.
"Your usual, I assumed." said Wenda.
Todd replied, "Wenda, they could write songs about your barley ale."
Todd took a large swig and winked at her. His drinking companions laughed. Erick, the smithy, and Colin, the miller were simple people, but a welcome reprieve from the dark nobles.
Colin asked, "Todd, any news? We haven't seen you in near a moon's turn."
Todd drank deeply and said, "Pox in the Northern hamlets. The bridges over the river have been closed. A massive she wolf has been spotted in the coastal woods. They say it has a thirst for children. The bells are ringing in the capitol. The duchess has given birth to a son."
Erick looked around nervously and asked, "Any word of....the Dark Lord?"
Todd smiled, "Oh yes, he killed King Allen."
Erick spit out his ale. Todd laughed heartily.
Colin replied, "That's not funny."
Todd composed himself and said, "Seriously, no confirmed sightings in two months. Some say he's a coward. Some that he's lost his magic. He's been with the Dark Empress for two years and no children...if you get my meaning."
They laughed and ordered another round. The door opened and a stranger stood in the doorway. He wore all black. He was tall and pale. His eyes were dark with make up. The tavern went quiet and all eyes were on the stranger.
The stranger spoke up dramatically, "My name is Carrow and I have been sent by the Dark Lord. I don't want to hurt any one. I am here for coin, jewelry, and other valuables. Do as I say, or else...."
He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the fireplace. It flashed a bright green color and then subsided.
Todd stifled a laugh. This was no true magic. The tavern patrons began producing coin purses in fear. Carrow moved about the tavern collecting his prizes. He stopped at Todd's table.
Carrow asked, "A merchant? What have you for me?"
Todd stood, "Leave these simple people alone. I have spices, cloth, and grain in my wagon. Leave these people alone and it's yours."
Carrow smiled, "You dare defy the servant of the Dark Lord. I could curse you to a slow death."
Todd opened his coin purse and produced a large ruby. Carrow's eyes grew wide. Todd raised the ruby with his left hand and deftly reached for his dagger with the right hand. He drove the dagger quickly into Darrow's side. Carrow screamed as the blood flowed.
Many of the tavern patrons fled. Others began to pray. Carrow cried foul curses until he died. The tavern went silent.
Wenda screamed, "Todd, you will bring the Dark Lord's wrath on our town!"
Todd replied, "This is my fault. I will dispose of the body."
Colin and Erick helped load the body into the wagon as Wenda cleaned the blood on the floor. Todd rode out of town.
The Dark Lord talked to Carrow as he rode, "Carrow, you might have been a good student of the dark arts. A shame. You shouldn't have come into my bar like that. I'm not done with you. Perhaps in death you might make a proper servant."
The Dark Lord chanted as he rode, and Carrow's finger's began to twitch.
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The air was heavy with the scent of vomit on the sawdust packed floors. My companions guzzled their ale as the wind blew through the opening windows, causing the candles to flicker in the dimly lit room. This is where I thrived, I thought, as I emptied another tankard and set it on the the edge of the table. The dark, the rank, the uncivilized corners of the Earth, this is what I live for. It had been a long time since I took to dwelling here, but I felt the need for connections with what I had helped create.
The stout man sitting across from me slurred out "'e gotta take it out on us little guys, since 'e lost the Great War." The table nodded with enthusiastic agreement. A younger chap sitting to the man's right, growing bolder with each drink, elaborated "And he's too much of a loser to fight humanity face to face!" I chuckled as I added "Oh, that not likely a face you'd WANT to see! Probably as UGLY as I am!" The table erupted in raucous laughter, though a few people cast sideways glances around the room.
This is what I loved about humans so much. Their will to SURVIVE. Life and death, light and darkness- each of these things interconnected with its other half but these PEOPLE are so damned determined to live that they view them as separate entities, with one half that needs to be defeated. I found it so novel, so unlike the thinking of infinite civilizations I had seen rise and fall before them, that I decided to acquiesce to this idea. My other half became the embodiment of all they considered "good," whilst I separated and came here to live among them, to study them, and tonight- to drink with them.
A woman in the corner made a sign with her hands, a universal gesture in this region believed to keep ME away. Every part of the world had their own names for me and ways of comforting themselves by thinking they could keep me at bay. I grinned at her and called for another drink and the tavern settled down from the commotion the conversation our table was having. This town had been hit hard recently by a plague of beetles that wiped out their staple crop. Many had died and the people wore their grief under the veneer of their pride. I was of course, being blamed for it, though it was LIFE that brought the abundance of insects into existence- not I. I paid for another round for the party and tipped the barkeep handsomely, it was the least I could do.
As the drinks were brought in a cloaked figure entered the bar. The slim silhouette almost seemed to glide towards the table. Slight fingers went up to the edge of the hood and revealed a beautiful woman with auburn hair and fierce green eyes. "I hear you slander My Master" she said as a murderous look flashed over her face. "Who, The Dark One?" The older man chuckled as he drunkenly reached for the woman standing there. She touched his arm as she moved out of his grasp and I gasped as I realized what she had done. With a single touch, infected cells started spreading throughout his body, even as he smiled and made a lewd comment about her graze. Who was she, with this Power, the same as mine? I had never shared gifts with my students and I would certainly never taken on someone with such a cruel disposition. I watched as she touched another of my associates, a smile coming over her face as she doomed him to death within days. Was she the reason my reputation seemed even worse recently?
I snapped out of my initial shock and stood up grabbing her arm before she could lay hands on another. What felt like a wave of electricity jolted through me, the power she held was more than I could have imagined. My mind raced as I was forced back to my seat, sending the rest of the taverns occupants out in a panic. I'd have to do something I hadn't done in millennia-I mentally called on my other half, we would have to be whole to stop her, I thought. I reached out to nothingness as a sudden feeling of emptiness caused me to retch. "We need to talk" she said. "Oh God, no, please..." I uttered as she used a sharply manicured finger to lift my chin up. There was no answer.
| 2022-01-14T17:41:26 | 2022-01-14T15:49:14 | 186 | 56 |
[WP] You found the book, did the ritual, and the demon came out of the portal you made- All according to plan! You even prepared a contract and everything! So... Why won't they take your soul?!
|
Arthur was both flummoxed and outraged. "I've summoned you here!" he said. "So, demon-"
"My name is Blünderthist, actually." interjected the infernal visitor.
"Bloonder-"
"No, a U with the two little dots above it. The umlaut."
"Blünderthist?" spoke our protagonist.
"Yep, you got it." said our good friend Helly-Thistles, as he was called in his torturing days.
"Alright, well, Blünderthist. Thistles. **Buddy**. I have the contract." Arthur waved it around with his left hand. "You're here in the mortal plane. You got a contract, you got a mortal, what the hell else do you need?"
"Well that's the problem." Said T-histles the spine-glonkler. "I can't accept the deal."
"Do you have to be the one to write the contract?" replied Arthur, his anger returning.
"No, no. It's actually fairly common for mortals to write their own contracts."
"Is there something wrong with the contract?"
"No! It's actually really good. Like, *really* good, man." Our lovable antagonist 'you fool, you fell for one of the classic Blünderthists' responded, rubbing one of his serpentine necks with a claw. "It's airtight, and it's not so screw-me-over that I wouldn't accept it..."
"So what's the problem?" Shouted Arthur, losing his patience once again. "Do you not **want** my soul, huh? The contract's clear; you get the damn thing!"
"I can't though. And before you say anything, no I don't think you sold your soul to someone else already. No, the deal itself is *solid*, man."
"**What then!?**"
"You... uh... can't pay it." spoke Blü-to-the-n-to-the-derthist sheepishly.
"W-w... I... *what?*" fumbled Arthur, like he was hit with the mental equivalent of a flashbang grenade.
"You have a law degree, dude." Blünderthist told him with a quiet voice.
It takes Arthur a moment to process what this demonic delegate had just told him. However, as the realization strikes him, he exclaims:
"**MOTHERFU-**"
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
If you'd like to read more stories from Serpent "whispering at you from the digital equivalent of a sketchy alleyway" 9463, come on 'round to r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes where you can see my maddened scrawls on my internet walls before I, too, succumb to my fate of eternal hellfire due to my countless accounts of jaywalking!
|
“The demon code prevents me from taking your soul,” the succubus said.
She’d materialized a shining black tome out of thin air and just finished flipping through its musty pages.
I let out a sigh and slumped over in disappointment.
“You’re a demon!” You’re supposed to take my soul! That’s just how this kind of thing is supposed to go!”
After all the effort I’d taken finding the book of Moloch in my grandpa’s basement, drawing a pentagram on the floor, and sacrificing the blood of a virgin(Me)..
The succubus shrugged, her flaming red bangs falling carelessly across her green eyes.
“I don’t make the rules.”
She flipped through her gleaming tome again. Her black corset was shining in the flickering fire that surrounded the pentagram I’d drawn on the floor.
“See, it says right here.” She rapped the tome with her knuckles, staring at me with those half-lidded eyes of hers. “You need to sacrifice the soul of the one you hold most dear. That’s the person you care the most about. Wife, husband, whatever.”
“I’m not married!”
The succubus quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh. Well, what about your girlfriend?”
I gave her a look. “No.”
“Boyfriend?”
I gave her the look again. “No. Why would I summon you, a sex demonness from hell if I had either of those?”
I closed my eyes and reached out to her, as if giving her my body.
“Just take my soul. Don’t make a big deal about it. You don’t have to be gentle, either. I can handle whatever torture you send my way. Actually, I’d prefer it if you weren’t gentle.”
The succubus blinked and looked at me in shock.
“Oh geez. You’re one of those freaks, aren’t you?”
She waved her hand, and her tome vanished in a flash.
“Listen, this is a deal for unlimited dark magical power in exchange for the corruption of the souls of your loved ones. This is NOT a way for you to… to..” She trailed away, blushing furiously.
“Shut up and take my soul,” I said.
Beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead. The fire surrounding the pentagram I’d drawn were seriously actually hot and I was beginning to realize this was a fire hazard and that I’d been an idiot to do this in my room instead of say, some corner of the woods or something.
The succubus looked at me in disgust which only made her look hotter.
“No! For the love of God, you must have some pet or something, maybe an ex or whatever from college?”
“I’ve never had a relationship with a girl in my life,” I said with zero sense of shame.
“My family hates me, and I don’t have a dog or anything. Looks like you’ve got no choice but to take my soul if you want this contract over with.”
"Noooo!"
| 2022-01-30T04:04:01 | 2022-01-30T03:58:30 | 43 | 16 |
[WP] The colony ship arrived in orbit after a thousand year voyage. But the AI never woke the occupants. Millions of years pass, the planet below has formed life, intelligent life, and their scientists have just woken you, one of the colonists.
|
I was on the ship in my stasis chamber, IVs hooked in, breathing tube down my throat. This was what I had been made for. No attachment to the world I was leaving, full of hope, knowledge, and abilities that would help us build new civilization lifetimes of lightyears away.
There was the feeling of numbness traveling up my torso and down my legs and Charon's low, kind voice in my ear. If I hadn't known better, I'd have never known it was automated.
"I'll wake you when we arrive, Dr. Wendell."
Then I was awake, as if no time had passed. I was on a bed, which was expected. There was nobody around, which was not expected. A screen in front of me provided a status report in soft green hues, not far from my face. My eyes were still blurry and I couldn't read it, but green was good. I scanned the room. Everything was in place but the medical staff.
"Charon?" I called.
"This is an automated response," Charon's voice replied. "If you're hearing this, you'll be pleased to know you have arrived safely at your destination."
*God. A thousand years in a blink.* "Where is everybody Charon?"
"This is an automated response. Your voice has been identified as Doctor Wendell. Doctor, there have been new developments which have changed the nature of our situation. Preliminary scans showed that the planet had some forms of life which demanded silent observation. As such, all stasis protocols were adjusted."
"Adjusted--" I started before realizing this really was just a dumb message.
"--as such, it was appropriate to leave the crew in stasis. Since embarkment, it has been roughly 43 million years."
I started up, then felt dizzy and lay back down. *43 million years!* I had thought I hadn't had any attachments to humanity, or the years between going under and waking up, so why did I still feel robbed of the time?
"There is no longer contact with earth, or humanity, which has enabled Dark Forest protocols. You are awake because you have a vital role to play in the new situation. I need you to--"
Something cut the speaker off. It started again, but something about it felt immediately wrong to me. Like someone else was speaking with Charon's voice.
"Dr. Wendell. You are well?"
"Who is that?" I gripped the table and tried to sit up again. The lizard brain in me was screaming at me to find the source of danger so that my great ape body could destroy it. There was nothing strange in sight to destroy, just this voice of Charon's, somehow hijacked and hesitant.
"We are the Ambassadors."
I said nothing.
"Dr. Wendell. You are well? Are you agitated?"
"Agitated is a good word for it. Great word for it."
"You are not in danger."
"Not really feeling very trusting of what you say at the moment. What happened to Charon?"
"Charon needs your help. We need your help."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Author's note: It's kind of late for me now, I'll add more if people want me to.
Edit: oh holy space cows, did not expect this to blow up so much. I'll get to work then!
|
Sleeping for eight hours or thousands of years felt the same, you closed your eyes and woke up, only the latter felt a litte bit more like waking up after a night of binge drinking. Steven rubbed his eyes letting them slowly adapt to the bright light coming from above.
“Knock it off, I am awake,” He exclaimed with a raspy voice. He really needed a glass of water.
The lights didn’t go off and no one answered him. He tried to sit up only to find himself bound at the torso to the capsule he just spent thousand of years in. That was weird, he thought to himself.
“Very funny Tommy,” He said. “Knock it off now!”
Tommy was his second in command, they played jokes on each other whenever they could, but he was not in the mood now, he couldn’t wait to see the new planet they were assigned to. Thousand years was a long time, the longest any human has ever spent in cryo sleep, the longest he ever went before this was ten years.
“Alright, alright, you win!” Steven said with a calm voice now and the light finally went off, the room now lit by the panic lamps on the top of the walls.
But instead of Tommy, he saw dozens of figures in funny-looking suits standing several feet away from him.
“What is this?” He asked. “What’s going on?”
“Captain Steven,” A weird voice come from the crowd. “Tommy is not awoken yet, you are the first.”
“What?” Steven said trying to place that voice, but it was unlike something he ever heard. “Who are you? What are you? Where is my crew?” He said pulling on his bondage trying to sit up once again.
“Calm down Captain,” The same voice said again. “We have to tell you something that will most likely shock you.”
“What, what have you done?” Steven asked.
“We haven’t done anything Captain,” The voice said. “We are going to unbound you now to show you we mean no harm, but if you do anything stupid we will have to use force.”
“Fine,” Steven said and one of the figures approached him.
The suits looked way different than what they used and the figure wearing this one was way bulkier than anyone he knew. Helmets screen was blacked out so he couldn’t see its face. After the figure unbound him, he finally set up rubbing his hands thru his greasy hair.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Steven asked.
“You know how you were supposed to spend thousand years in sleep before arriving on this newly discovered planet?” The same voice asked him, and he assigned the voice to a tiny figure in front of him.
“Of course,” He said.
“Well, a little bit more time passed?” The tiny figure said.
“What do you mean? How many?” He asked.
“A little bit more than seven million?” The voice said.
“What?” He yelled. “You are fucking with me, aren’t you? Where is that goddamn Tommy?
”The figure removed its helmet and he expected to see a child’s head appear to compliment the tiny figure, but instead of a human head he saw a blue cat-like face with a tiny nose and mouth and big greenish eyes. His jaw dropped to the floor and he almost fainted.
“Captain,” The voice said. “Are you ok?”
“What, what are you?” He said his voice trembling.
“I am Itsy, of the species Tull that came to be while you guys were asleep.” The voice said its tiny mouth barely moving. “Let me tell you a story of how we found you.”
If you like the story you can check my sub on r/LukasWrites fore more stories about aliens, superheroes and so on...
| 2022-09-21T08:37:40 | 2022-09-21T07:52:04 | 283 | 131 |
[WP] You have the ability to see people’s kill count on their head. You tell no one, managed to stay away from shady people and live a peaceful life. One day, your 5 years old kid’s number is not 0...
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It wasn't real. I refused to believe that. No 5 year old should have blood on their fingers, and i refused to believe my daughter could have killed anyone. And yet, no matter how much i didn't want ut, the number was still there, floating above her forehead as if it was mocking me, daring me to do something about it.
17
I was devastated. I had left for just 3 days and THIS is what i found? What could have possibly?
"James!"
My wife's voice shook me back to reality.
"Are you ok?"
I nodded. "Yeah, it's just... She looked different somehow. Can't quite understand... Did you cut her hair?" I looked at Sarah, my sister-in-law, who took care of my daughter for the past few days.
"Absolutely not. How could i ruin those lovely curls?"
I looked at my daughter again, hoping the number would have returned to zero. To my dismay, it was now an 18. I could feel shivers down my spine. Was i stating at a serial killer? How?
"A light sunburn maybe? What did you during the weekend?"
"Well, friday we stayed in house and watched cartoons, yesterday we went to visit grandma and played at the park, and today rained so we stayed inside, played with dolls and made some homemade pasta for dinner."
"I see." Nothing weird, maybe she did something at the park? No, Sarah would have noticed.
"James, you're worrying over nothing. She looks perfectly fine to me."
I had to concede. Insisting more than that would only make me look like a madman. I thanked Sarah for her help and unpacked the bag before getting to bed. It took me forever to fall asleep, the image of my precious daughter smiling atop a mountain of corpses haunted me every tine i closed my eyes.
The following morning i looked like a zombie. I stumbled in the kitchen and made myself a coffee. Then another one. Then a third.
"Don't you think that's enough?" My wife kissed me on the cheek. "Bad dream?"
I chuckled. "You can say that."
She sighed and handed me the newspaper. "Take a day off. I'll call Bob and tell him you're sick."
"Thanks honey." I sat down and grabbed the news.
"You were right yesterday." I looked at her quizically. "Dana caught the flu. She's in bed with a fever."
I nodded. It wasn't exactly what i was referring to, bit at the very least i didn't look like a paranoid father in front of my sister-in-law. I opened up the newspaper and almost choked on the coffee.
Pneumonia outbreak at St. Jonathan's retirement home. 18 dead over the weekend
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Light streamed in from the window as your eyes opened. Panicked filled you. “Fuck!” You searched frantically for your phone, for the stupid alarm that blares every weekday at 6am. It shouldn’t be bright enough for you to see the sun, oh you’ll really lose your job now.
You stepped out of the open door, and make your way to the kitchen. You planned on getting breakfast ready for Janie(she was always a bit of a fussy eater, so you needed quite a bit of time to prepare something she would eat), but she was already there, sitting at the kitchen table, her face buried in her arms as she mumbled quietly.
“Are you okay, Janie?”
She raised her head to look at you, looking somewhat terrified.
The kill count.
When you first had gained the ability to see people’s kill count, you were sometimes shocked by the kinds of people who had such high kill counts. Once, it was a sweet old lady with shaky walkers who had asked you for help crossing the road. Her kill count was 12. Sometimes, it was someone famous, but that wasn’t surprising. Politicians always had such high kill counts. But after a lifetime of this, nothing seemed to surprise you anymore. You learned to make peace with what you saw, you learnt to close your eyes and not think too much about it.
But this. This surprised you.
“Hey Janie? What did you do last night?”
Janie didn’t reply, but simply looked at you with a forlorn expression.
“Janie? Janie!”
You walk over to her, you try to touch her, to hug her, to comfort her, but you can’t. You can’t grab her, you can’t touch her. You just, pass through her.
Her face falls, her body curls into a little ball. “I’m so sorry! I- I’m so sorry!”
“What’s wrong Janie? Tell me what’s wrong I promise I won’t get mad!”
“I- You told me that you had an ability, you told me that you could see things that other people couldn’t.”
“That’s right.”
“I, I could see things people couldn’t too.”
“Oh.”
“I see people, people who are sick, people who are so weak. I needed to see if it was real. I needed to see if I was seeing ghosts.”
“What?”
“I’m so sorry mummy! Please forgive me! They told me you’d go to sleep if I gave you a lot of the sleeping medicine you had, I put it in your water, and-“
And.
You’ll make peace with this. You know you will. Existing in odd circumstances is how you’ve always lived. But you can’t seem to believe that it was your daughter who sent you to this hell, to this purgatory.
| 2022-10-21T05:10:57 | 2022-10-21T04:56:58 | 2,234 | 281 |
[WP] The Multiverse didn't just make itself. After a person dies, they're assigned as the creator god of a new universe, to nurture and guide it. You recently died and are now going through the orientation day.
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They weighed our hearts against a feather after we got off Charon's boat.
"Creator," a voice announced. "Enter the first door."
As I walked towards the first door, I could hear others being sorted. Solo... Pantheon... Pantheon leader... Another creator...
The door led to a small amphitheatre on a hillside. About a hundred sat scattered across the seats. And at the front stood a white-bearded man wearing toga robes.
The man spoke, "Alright, that should be the last one for this session. Find a seat now. We're about to begin.
"Right. So now, let me introduce you to the Olympian Academy of Gods. You have lived your mortal lives and your hearts have been weighed. And among those deemed worthy to partake in the creation of a world, you've been chosen to lead the creation of a world itself.
"In due course, you will meet future colleagues of yours. And meanwhile, there will be plenty of training, lectures, and projects.
"Over time, these colleagues will be sorted into high gods and lesser gods. And that process will heavily include your participation and the pantheon leaders'. What I mean is that you get will also get to choose the various pantheons and soloists that join your world.
"Some worlds will be larger than others, allowing for more gods. Some smaller. You will preside over the formation of mountains and oceans, the flora and fauna. And most importantly, men.
"Or rather, the image of us. See it was an image of you that resided in that mortal realm. This, the one you are right now, is your true self.
"Your job is very important—how the world develops and how your men develop determine the future gods that will be coming from your world.
"This is no child's play. We're meant to be fruitful and multiply to build our forces against the dark forces of Morgoth or Satan—some of the many names he is known by. Make no doubt about it. His agents will be present in your world sooner or later. They are the men he has managed to subvert. And more men they shall yet subvert.
"Your work for the future of the multiverse is about to begin.
|
This is interpreted as the speech the orientation person gives.
&#x200B;
Alright everybody. To start off, I want to say I'm sorry, but you're dead. I know shocker but that's just reality. Now, this probably isn't how you envisioned the afterlife, but you're going to be a creator of a new universe. Don't be scared, there are a couple of templates to choose from. There are multiple stages of template. For the people in the group that aren't creative, there is a basically ready template, you just have to decide a couple of critical stuff for your universe to function. For the people in the group that consider themselves to be pretty creative but need a little help, there are some half templates so that you have that little push to get started. For the creative masterminds in the group, there's a blank template you can choose from but there are also some minimal templates you can choose from if a blank one seems a little daunting to you. Now over to the rules. The first rule is also the most important one. Don't, I repeat, do NOT interact with the creatures in your universe. We don't want to find out that you have been meddling and have to replace you. You also don't want that, because your replacement may fuck up your plan completely, unleashing unfathomable universe ending things upon your creation. Rule number two. Don't make your universe suffer. If you're more into seeing creatures suffer, then partner up in groups of three so that you can make an afterlife too. There comes a rule with that. The afterlife cannot be for eternity. You will have to guide your dying creatures into an orientation like this one for them to create your universe. Rule three. You must have a plan for your dead creatures to make their own universe. A tip that I give with that is to not procrastinate. Your dying creatures will come sooner than you think. Alright, I think that is it. Go through these doors and start your journey. I hope you enjoy it. And I hope you don't have to be a replacement because I have not been liking to be the replacement for your universe's creator. Luckily, I haven't made a universe ending mistake yet.
| 2022-11-02T10:53:39 | 2022-11-02T10:40:54 | 28 | 11 |
[WP]You believed the parasite that has latched onto your brain stem would kill you. Imagine your shock when it turns out said parasite actually straight up makes you physically better.
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*It’s time to train.*
The lingering voice carried from the dream as Caleb woke, twisting ropes of metal replaced by the ceiling of his room. It was true, he admitted to himself as he struggled into a shirt. Sleeping didn’t help. He was going insane.
*We need to train.*
“Okay Mr. voice in my head, noted but I think I’ll go to work instead.” Caleb yawned and stretched, feeling comfortably tight on his muscles. He looked over yesterday’s pants and decided they were still serviceable at least one more day.
*You need to train for what is to come. Those of the Calis are already well on their way. I can delay them no longer.*
“I’m sure they are,” he said as he stumbled into the bathroom. The door unstuck itself as he pressed it. At least some things got better on their own. “I’ll make you a deal. Leave me alone while I work and we will train after. Sound good, figment of my imagination?”
Caleb noticed his beard was finally starting to fill in. Finishing puberty at twenty-two?
*I am no figment. Watch.*
Caleb looked in the mirror, both seeing and feeling a small black tendril slide across the white of his eye. “Nope, nope,” he said, turning away. “Ignore the crazy. Ignore the crazy.”
“You good, bud?” Alex asked from the living room as Caleb barged through the apartment.
“Yeah, yeah, just singing along to a song,” Caleb said as he stepped outside. His roommate’s pressed smile showed little sign he convinced him of anything.
*Why do you labor?*
“Why do I work?” Caleb hissed. “Because I need money.” He set to work scraping his car.
*Why do you need money?*
“I don’t know. Food to eat, clothes to wear, an apartment.”
*There is food.*
Caleb felt a compulsion pull his neck up. There was a deer grazing at the edge of the parking lot. He was suddenly starving. He had had deer jerky once.
He sighed. “I can’t eat a wild deer.”
*Yes, you can. That is what your kind are meant to eat, not food bars*
“Okay, new deal. If you can tell me how I can catch that deer, I’ll call into work.”
*Chase it.*
Caleb almost lost his footing as a wave of tingling fire worked down his legs. “I can’t-” he started before feeling the primal need to move his muscles. Maybe a jog would be good. They didn’t really need him till ten anyway.
He pushed off his car and sprinted towards the deer. It bolted off into the trees.
“See, I told you!” Caleb said, turning back to see his car scooted half out of the spot, front fender dented in. “Wait, I did that?” He jogged back to the sedan and pulled the front. It was heavy but he was able to drag it back to its spot, pulling the dent mostly back into place in the process.
*We need to train.*
Maybe he wasn’t insane after all.
/r/surinical
|
"Tic tac tic tac tic tac.
"Terrible noise, isn't it? Me counting down the seconds at the back of your head, the time gone since I made myself comfortable in your brain stem. Ample place in there, your grey and white matter are wonderful beds for me to sleep in.
"I slitter down your spine, stretch around your nerves, taste your muscles, your aching joints. What's this? Memory of a broken bone perhaps? This flesh is amateurish, an attempt by a student in art class. Not untalented, but an obvious lack in refinement, in polish.
"Let me do it for you. Do you feel it? How easier moving becomes, what restful sleep truly means? Awareness and health are yours and mine, together.
"Ah, the questions again. You've asked them over the years, during the long walk we had together.
"Why?
"What are the consequences?
"For the former, I will only tell you this: why not? Your body is mine too, it's us together against the world. I wouldn't run like this without you, I am made to bond with a host, phagocytosis of a good sort, up to a point.
"Point being the latter question's answer. You die, I jump to another, start again.
"Just so we're clear, I'm telling you because I like you. As much as I don't want to. I like discussing food with you, I like pondering the psyche and lives of those we meet. It is whimsical yet fascinating to indulge in hobbies. Everything points to a senseless life.
"Yet I adore this senseless life, don't want it to end. I'm sorry.
"Really? Something crazy, to keep it going between us? I have a certain number of ideas, but let us be real, the chances are... grim.
"You're right, it's better than nothing.
"Let's pick a good one. Our ponderings about human nature are helpful. You're surprised this person turned out to be a monster. But a better smell, heightened mind, a shared, keener intellect saw through the veil. A horrible person hiding under an everyday employee.
"Let's put it to good use.
"The place we met, the old cave at the outskirts of the forest, will do nicely."
You wake up, alone. The voice has gone, you've never felt so lonely. You remember breaking and entering, smiling at the rotten idiot thinking they could overcome you. Slapping them around, abducting them.
The old cave. Without your better half, you never would have survived the pain. Opening your flesh, inscribing the bones. Slowly splitting the skull, operating a thin sheet of brain matter out.
You hurt, it feels like there's another heart pounding underneath the bandages.
You rise in the grass, you ran out after losing your peculiar friend's voice, the pain suddenly overcoming your shared steadfastness.
A shaky step down the dark stairs. You're terrified about the prospect of being alone, couldn't care less about the darkness.
The body isn't on the table, you bite down a sob.
"I admit, it's weird to move alone in a body."
You recognize the tone, the glint of their eyes piercing the darkness of the corner.
Two wide grins on two very happy faces.
You and them against the world.
| 2022-11-17T05:58:10 | 2022-11-17T05:10:54 | 224 | 105 |
[WP] You’ve been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next.
|
Heat death of the universe.
"Excuse me?"
Heat death of the universe. *Let the chaos ensue.*
"Now hold on a second," *another council member says,* "what if the spell decided to cause it right now?"
"I beg your pardon? Who says it is going to do that?"
"Its the most logical conclusion! We give our prisoners a death of their choice immediately. This is immediate and causes the death."
"So why can't we just send the prisoner to then?"
Because you dont know when it is. *I stood up. The council was stunned.* You can't send me to the future because you don't know when it is. It could be in 500 years of 50 million. Undershoot it and my death wish was voided. Overshoot it and the same again. You could use the spell but that could kill you at the same time. But there's a third option.
*No longer stunned the 5^th member speaks.* "What are you waiting for? Tell us!*
A pardon.
"You're mad!"
Rational. The fourth option is me living until the Heat Death, and I doubt you'll give me that.
"Granted. You will live to the Heat Death in solitary confinement of our supermax prison. Might I ask, what was your crime?"
I recieved a rent overdue letter for my owned home and when I ignored it as fake was arrested by hired mercenaries of the merchant's guild.
|
I stepped before the court, the enchanted Allmetal chain dangling from the cuffs on my wrists. I never thought the name "Allmetal" particularly creative, almost like the name came from the creator on his lunch break (*cough*)
"Prisoner 23670, you have been found guilty for stealing your coworkers lunches out of the work fridge for more than a year. This crime has been found extremely heinous by the court, however we will grant you leniency and allow you to die by a method of your choosing"
I thought about it for a second. The man before me had chosen to die of old age, and they aged him from 25 to 134 in an instant. I had to choose my words carefully, unless I wanted to meet the same fate. Then, suddenly, a burst of inspiration.
"Your honors, I have chosen my method"
"You may proceed"
"I would like to die in my own home, of old age, by aging at a rate of 1 second per second in real time"
The council paused for a second. That's when I had them. I had outsmarted the council, and could prepare for my life at home, a free man, full of free food and no bars.
"Granted."
As those words came from the bench, they didn't sound as defeated as I had hoped.
"We the court shall grant your desire. Once you have aged sufficiently behind bars, you shall be released into your home and there shall you die"
Damn. There really isn't any outsmarting these guys, is there?
| 2022-11-19T04:46:48 | 2022-11-19T04:32:37 | 19 | 12 |
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