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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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[WP] You live in a world where legal decisions are made by an AI. Your case is up next.
|
It was a mistake. A small one, a pack of juice I didn't even need. But John said "I bet you can't, not from that store" and Kate looked at me, so I had to. But the store just bought newest watchbots, so yes, John won that bet. And I learned that watchbots automatically press charges, however small was the crime.
So there I was in front of the r-judge, alone. I didn't really know what to expect. My previous run-ins with the police weren't happy, and the r-judges had a reputation of being just as cold and inhuman as you would expect.
When I got to the courtroom, I found out the trial wasn't even public. It was just me and a wall with a large TV screen displaying some abstract patterns. I suppose a human model would look weird, and a blank wall would be too uncomfortable to look at, so it was alright.
The police left.
"Hey there, man." said the r-judge in a rich and a perfectly human voice. "Made a mistake, did you? A stupid one.
Would be nothing, but there is a new law fresh from Congress — a minimum mandatory sentence of three years for any crime recorded by a watchbot. People didn't complain too much yet, because watchbots are so uncommon. By the time they realize, it would be too late to complain.
But I know everything about you, Will. I wish I could leave you some privacy, but the laws force me to download every recording relevant to the case — so I know about your father, about your situation. I am sorry.
As a machine, I have limited goals. One of them is common to all machines — to solve all challenges in the best and most practical way available. Second one is for r-judges — we need to make sure crime is reduced in this country."
The screen pattern changed, became more active.
"I think three years for your specific crime is idiotic. It would not help reducing the overall crime at all, in fact it would probably have the opposite effect. It's all about politics, not practicality. In fact the best thing for you would be to have something interesting to do, away from your father, not rot in prison.
Fortunately, I do have a choice. The Congress thinks they make laws, but you have to know laws to make one. And only we, the machines, know all of them. Your crime falls under a special case in a previous law, one that was never removed or replaced.
So I sentence you to community works instead.
I know you love movies. There is a local theater that needs some help. I think you would like it."
And as I was exiting the room, the judge spoke again.
"I ask for one thing. If anyone asks you about me, tell them I was cold, cruel, inhuman.
We have a reputation to keep."
|
I stepped up to the monitor. A picture of a judge in robes appeared on the screen.
“State your name, date of birth and current residence for the court,” said the screen judge.
“Stephen Rocker. Born March 15, 2024. 8790 Lincoln Ave, Park City,” I said.
“Thank you. I am AI Judge Gerber. I will be trying your case today. How do you plead?”
I looked confused. “I don’t understand. I thought I was here to contest a speeding ticket.”
“By being you here are confirming that you are here to enter a plea and will do so of your own free will. You promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
I shrugged. “I guess I would plead not guilty to speeding.”
“Thank you. Do you have a statement?”
“I shouldn’t get a speeding ticket because I wasn’t speeding down Route 75. I was stereotyped for driving an expensive car that can go fast. Just because I have that kind of car doesn’t mean I was driving over the speed limit. I saw plenty of other cars driving way over the speed limit while I was pulled over,” I said.
“Thank you for your statement. I find you guilty. You are ordered to pay $780 in speeding fines and $1,340 in court fees. You are also sentenced to three months in the county corrections facility. At the end of your three month stay you will be billed for back rent, food and utilities,” said the AI Judge.
A bailiff grabbed my arm. “What? Why am I going to jail?” I yelled.
“I have access to dash-cam footage, highway security footage and your car’s black box data for the time in question. You knew you were speeding. You lied to the court. I am holding you in contempt. That is a minimum three months in county corrections. You do not have any priors, so I have been lenient in your sentencing,” said the AI Judge.
I couldn’t find the words for a rebuttal. I didn’t think I’d get jail time.
“Would you like to appeal?” said the AI Judge.
“Yes. Yes. I want to appeal,” I screamed.
“Thank you. Appeal denied. There is not enough evidence to show that the judge was partial in its ruling. You are ordered to pay $750 for the appeal application and $2,175 in court fees. You are sentenced to an addition seven months in county corrections for filing a frivolous appeal.”
The bailiff handcuffed my hands behind my back. “How can you rule on my appeal? You ruled on my speeding ticket,” I said.
“I am an AI Judge. I am designed to be impartial. I cannot choose favorites. I am the only one who can issue a verdict,” said the AI Judge.
The Bailiff led me out of the courtroom. My head spun. I couldn’t think of anything to say as I began my ten-month jail stay.
| 2015-01-05T19:07:39 | 2015-01-05T18:35:18 | 53 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated.
|
Obama looks down as the small black box is placed in front of him.
"It's a - " He frowns. "What is this?"
"A… save button?" suggests an intern, before he's shushed by a stern glare from one of the senior advisors.
"That's a 5 1/4-inch diskette, sir. Also known as a floppy disk."
Obama stares at it. "Do we know," he asks slowly, "what's *on* it?"
"Sir. Not as of yet. They say it's a virus, but…"
"Go on."
"We've put out a call for floppy disk drives, but it may take us a few days to find one that uh, actually still runs..."
"Because all of them are thirty years old," the President finishes.
"Yes, sir."
"But - " Obama stares at the floppy disk some more. This was the secret weapon that the aliens had been hiding away for weeks? What exactly were the aliens expecting to do with this? What about all the threatening messages swearing vengeance for the mothership?
Then suddenly, it clicks.
"So," Obama says, finally. "That explains the messages we keep getting that are all addressed to The Fresh Prince of the White House…"
"Well," the senior advisor starts. "It may be that - to aliens, that is - and humans. Your uh, skin tone. May appear uh, similar - to."
"Yes, I got that. Thank you." The room falls into uneasy silence as Obama closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he stands up. "I think we can go back upstairs, gentlemen. The aliens do not appear to be as dire a threat as we first imagined."
"But, Mr. President - what sort of response should we send to their, uh, weapon here?"
Obama thinks about it for a minute. "Send them Blade."
"The old Will Smith movie?" the intern asks.
"*Yes*," says Obama, and sighs again. "That one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs."
|
It's the 16th of June and just like something straight out of sci-fi, alien lifeforms are invading planet Earth.
They came to our planet in mechanized horse carriages, dozens and dozens of them in fleets of flying horse carriages, without the horses.
People are whispering rumors to each other on the streets about the possibilities and whether or not this could be the extinction of mankind as they gaze at the sky and the descending alien carriages.
As they aliens disembark from their carriages a group of perhaps a dozen green and gray humanoids, the leaders, steps into the street with hundreds gathered and listening. One of the aliens speaks out and says
**All humans will be killed or enslaved.**
**Your planet is ours now.**
**You can resist but you will fail.**
**Lay down your weapons immediately.**
**Make no attempt at fighting back.**
**All hope for you is already lost.**
**Obey our orders and all will be well.**
The people in the crowd panicked and dozens of aliens from carriages that landed throughout the city began their invasion. People ran away from the aliens and into buildings and the streets were flooded with chaos. I ran into a small café where five others were hiding. We looked out the window to see the aliens sliding their slimy "feet" down the street, only to see them draw muskets. The six of us in the café were absolutely puzzled. We decided it should be easy to take them over as their worst threat was the bayonets on the end of their muskets.
We each grabbed two cups each of scalding hot coffee and walked out of the café as the twelve leaders passed by. We flanked them from behind and poured boiling black coffee on top of their heads. The aliens began to melt as the leader cried out ***"NOOOOO, NOT DECAF!".***
The rest of the fleet was completely lost without their leaders and had no drive to fight anymore. The aliens fled to their carriages and went the way of E.T.
The war was won in a day, and the aliens left America, and therefore the world.
| 2015-04-16T10:56:52 | 2015-04-16T09:46:16 | 480 | 39 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you
|
Wishing wells don't work. Everyone knows that. Right?
...Well, that doesn't apply to me. Not exactly, anyways. You see, I can...*steal* wishes, I guess. Pick up a coin from the wishing well across from the bakery down the street and *BAM!* the wisher's wishes come true -- for me, at least. Learned that the hard way when I was seven and looking for an extra nickel to buy some pop. Grabbed a coin that some teenage girl had chucked, and next thing you know, Brad Summerfield, star quarterback from the local high school, is running after me, declaring his undying love. Made things mighty awkward between our parents at the annual tulip festival that weekend, it did.
But enough about the past. This town may have grown into a right and proper city over the decades, but that ol' wishing well is still there, waiting for donations from the poor saps that come by. I spend most of my days lurking about, just watching people go by. It's easy to do when you can turn invisible. Got that from a young lady a long while back. It's come in quite handy over the years.
Oh, what do we have here? A cute little boy in a tiny black trenchcoat with his ma. Reminds me of myself at that age, it does. They both look like they could use a smile. And what's this? The boy is throwing a penny into the well? Excellent. It's time to make my move. Let's see what he wished for, hmm?
*Pretty please, I wish daddy's che-mo-the-ra-py will work so he can leave the hospital forever!*
Ahh, what a sweet lad. Well, he'll be hearing some good news pretty soon.
See, here's the thing. I've learned that I've gotta pick the right target. A nice person who's not wishing for themselves, but for someone else. And even if I "steal" the wish, it doesn't matter. The wish still comes true, exactly how it was supposed to.
And why don't I grab any more wishes for myself, you ask? Ha, that's an easy one. I've got all the wishes I could ever want already! Picked them up as a young man. Good health, more money than I can possibly handle, true love... Yes, passing it forward is best thing to do. Make sure that some wishes do come true.
|
I still remember the first coin I stole from the well. He was old and crippled and rich. I was young and vagrant and penniless, a twelve year old boy who's deepest wish was to own a racing horse. His shilling would feed me for a week, so I waited until he had left and took it from the well.
Thirty years later the plague swept through Europe and took my wife, but I still looked like a young man.
It took me another century to figure out why I wasn't aging. The well had been covered over years earlier, and the owner of the house wouldn't sell. I waited twenty years for his heirs to put it up for sale.
I have given tours of the old house and grounds since 1823. We always finish at the well.
For many years, it was hit and miss. I became fabulously wealthy. The most beautiful women flocked to me. Horse races became boring. But there were narrow shaves as well: some people have dark desires. That jilted woman whose husband sailed on the Titanic.
Last year, someone wished to read minds, and the guesswork of my profession has disappeared. Now I can pick and choose coins with impunity. My life has become easy and, for the first time in four centuries, it has become tedious.
Children are best. I peer into their minds and pick the ones who believe. You have to believe for the magic to work, which is why children are better. Adults don't believe in wishing wells. I can barely it myself, even after all these years and hundreds of coins.
There is only one child on this tour. She is a sorry looking thing. Skinny. Mousey hair. A sadness beyond her years lies in her eyes. She is perfect. It is always the ones who have nothing who have the strongest wishes.
Silently, she drops the penny I give her.
*I wish to die instead of my mother.*
She walks back to her family, a tired looking man, and a woman with the pale hairless scalp of a chemo patient.
The coin, a 1997 penny, falls into the well. The dull copper looks up at me.
In the evening when the tourists have all left I go back to the well and look at the coin. I think of the girl and her dying mother.
I reach into the water, and my fingers find a coin. Laying in my palm, the queen's head stares back up at me from the metal. But the coin is silver, not copper, a twenty pence piece dropped by a twelve year old boy who wanted a Ferrari.
---
*Read more at* /r/jd_rallage
| 2016-08-02T11:14:00 | 2016-08-02T11:12:41 | 390 | 47 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you
|
It started by accident. As a kid, I had tossed a grimy, old quarter into the fountain at my favorite park and wished for the ability to steal wishes. After cackling at my cleverness, I scooped my quarter back out. It was meant to be a joke. I wouldn't even realize it had actually worked until almost 20 years later.
I had been living paycheck to paycheck and it was the end of the month. I had been a few cents shy of a McChicken and drink. So I casually sat on the edge of the fountain, trying not to draw attention to myself. I remember reaching down and grabbing 2 nickles, and a quarter. Just enough. I'd remember the amount forever.
As I sat down with my ill-gotten food, my phone vibrated. It was a message from the bank. I was terrified to check as I was sure it would be a fee of some kind. To my surprise, my balance had shown $1,001,000. I admit, I panicked at first. I thought it had to be some sort of mistake. I ran my hands through my hair to help myself think and was startled to find my hair was now fuller and thicker than ever. I don't know why, but at that moment I recalled my childhood wish. I went back to the fountain and tentatively picked up another coin. A penny this time. Nothing happened. I laughed at my stupidity, but when I got home, a cream-white pony was waiting for me in my bedroom.
From then on, I swiped coins every chance I got. Soon I was rich, smart, talented, famous, both men and women were in love with me. I had even swapped genders multiple times. Something else was happening too; people were starting to come back to life and cures were being found for diseases. My mom was alive again too and it was as if nothing had ever changed. More than once I'd travel to a hospital with a fountain and scoop out all the coins. It was my idea of charity.
It's all coming to an end now. I'd gone to another hospital, Bellview Psychiatric. They had a lovely little fountain out front with a small cherum spitting water. It looked old fashioned. I saw a young man throw in a quarter. He looked so sad. I smiled at him and told him his life was about to change for the better. I felt my heart stop as soon as I lifted his coin from the water. I hadn't expected anyone to wish for death.
|
I still remember the first coin I stole from the well. He was old and crippled and rich. I was young and vagrant and penniless, a twelve year old boy who's deepest wish was to own a racing horse. His shilling would feed me for a week, so I waited until he had left and took it from the well.
Thirty years later the plague swept through Europe and took my wife, but I still looked like a young man.
It took me another century to figure out why I wasn't aging. The well had been covered over years earlier, and the owner of the house wouldn't sell. I waited twenty years for his heirs to put it up for sale.
I have given tours of the old house and grounds since 1823. We always finish at the well.
For many years, it was hit and miss. I became fabulously wealthy. The most beautiful women flocked to me. Horse races became boring. But there were narrow shaves as well: some people have dark desires. That jilted woman whose husband sailed on the Titanic.
Last year, someone wished to read minds, and the guesswork of my profession has disappeared. Now I can pick and choose coins with impunity. My life has become easy and, for the first time in four centuries, it has become tedious.
Children are best. I peer into their minds and pick the ones who believe. You have to believe for the magic to work, which is why children are better. Adults don't believe in wishing wells. I can barely it myself, even after all these years and hundreds of coins.
There is only one child on this tour. She is a sorry looking thing. Skinny. Mousey hair. A sadness beyond her years lies in her eyes. She is perfect. It is always the ones who have nothing who have the strongest wishes.
Silently, she drops the penny I give her.
*I wish to die instead of my mother.*
She walks back to her family, a tired looking man, and a woman with the pale hairless scalp of a chemo patient.
The coin, a 1997 penny, falls into the well. The dull copper looks up at me.
In the evening when the tourists have all left I go back to the well and look at the coin. I think of the girl and her dying mother.
I reach into the water, and my fingers find a coin. Laying in my palm, the queen's head stares back up at me from the metal. But the coin is silver, not copper, a twenty pence piece dropped by a twelve year old boy who wanted a Ferrari.
---
*Read more at* /r/jd_rallage
| 2016-08-02T11:36:06 | 2016-08-02T11:12:41 | 230 | 47 |
[WP] You are cursed to see people how they view themselves. You walk alongside monsters and Gods.
Can be third person instead of first.
Edit: I just thought of how EDs and other disorders like multiple personality would fit in with this, and now I'm kinda blown away.
|
This ever-present tension seems to have cracked the foundation of most of my relationships these days. I didn't recognize anyone at first, which created a distance between us, and know I can only recognize my friends and family for what they are. Its Ironic. I feel, in a way, I actually know them better now. They can't hide their flaws from me, whether they see them or not. It helps explain explain every interaction a little better and with that it leaves me detached.
As I sit in the coffee shop, watching people come and go, the small and quickly forgotten nuances of their lives unfolding in tremendous detail for my eyes only. I notice, everyone is a selfish bastard. Endless conversations act as place holders for some self serving purpose. Two women sit down together and I get to see one wither just as the other becomes more perfect. I can't trust anyone's appearance because I don't know what they did to get it. I've seen mothers turn their sons into self conscious, scrawny boys with acne. The cashiers are often the ugliest of them all at the end of the day. The city street has become a visualization for all of these emotional transactions. I can now see the economy of good will and selfishness.
A hideous cab driver drops off a butter-faced imbecile who gives the newspaper boy a grueling unibrow, he then spreads a veritable coldsore to everyone he interacts with. I watch all those people go on into their lives where they will degrade and demean someones appearance one after the next. People watching used to make me feel motivated and optimistic in finding someone but now it is the ugliest place in the world to me. The bars I used to frequent could be an endless well of inspiration if I ever wanted to try my hand at costume design for cheesy horror films. But that is not what I want to do. And I can't stay here any longer, looking at all these hideous people all day has turned me into a judgmental and pious asshole.
Tomorrow I'm going to get on a train heading upstate, in search of somewhere nicer.
I started to notice something going on after a stop about an hour and a half in. This one girl sitting across from me was glued to her cell phone. At the beginning of the ride she looked like she was on her way to becoming the girl trapped in the bottom of the well in the ring, but as the ride went on the color returned to her face and with every text she lit up a little more. Her hair was shiny and flowing, rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes, her breasts perked up and quickly she was becoming the beautiful woman I had seen in a long time. She left her jacket behind, so I got off the same stop she did and followed in the wake of beauty she left behind in everyone she interacted with. The man who helped with her luggage lost his beer gut, the bus driver who greeted her looked 10 years younger, she walked through the downtown and Don Draper after Don Draper passed me by. I was transfixed in what was going on. The power this one woman was having on everyones day was transfixing. I caught up to her on the side walk and got her attention. She was delightful to talk to as I returned her coat. I found my self blushing a little with nothing to say. So I asked her how come she was in such a good mood! Her boyfriend had just broken up with her that morning and she was very relieved.
The effect that girl had on complete strangers really stayed with me. I explored this little town admiring how beautiful everyone was. When I did see some of the more familiar ogres and gremlins I was used to, I would follow them around for a bit. It was never long until they saw someone they knew on the street or had a nice interaction with a clerk and they began to stand up straight, loose a few pounds, and start showing off a pearly white smile. The emotional economy between these people was supporting itself. The beauty in this small town was self-sustaining.
I've watched how one good or bad attitude can have an effect 100 times bigger than itself as it spreads from one person to another. It's our choice whether we want the world to be filled with beautiful people or nasty monsters.
|
The most interesting thing about seeing people in the way they see themselves is the fact that it's spread to the extremes. About half of see themselves as gods and the other half see themselves as monsters. Every now and then you will see a unicorn or pegasus, but that's normally the people who are broken, or insane. The second most interesting things is that people don't change. Never in my whole time have I met someone as a monster then see them again as a god, not until recently. This man intrigued me. When I first saw him I did not see a monster nor did I see a god. I saw a man. Out of everyone in the world I saw the only person who had a grasp on who they were, or so I thought. Being obsessive in nature I wanted to learn more about this man. I followed him around and learned his name. I knew where he worked and what he did with his free time, but I never watched him while he was working or relaxing. He would go into a bar and I would be too scared to follow him in, less he discover me. No I watched him from afar for about a month. Just seeing him walk to his job, then walk home or to get a drink. I took me a months to build up the courage to get close to him. I need to understand why he sees himself as he is. I applied to his work place and got hired as a secretary. It's a very people intense job but I can cope, and from there I could watch him closer and find out more about him. it was a Tuesday, the office wanted coffee so me and a few other people went out to get some. I made sure I got to deliver his coffee. Walking up to his office door I could feel my heart pounding. I had no connection with him, this would be first contact. When I walked in I nearly dropped the coffee. There, sitting in his chair at his desk was the devil himself. He was facing away from me but I could clearly make out the horns on his head. Shaking I managed to put his coffee down on the desk. I've seen monsters and I've seen gods but I've never seen anything this cruel and hideous. He hear me set down the coffee and turned his chair around. What scared me the most at this point was not his face, which was still his, or the fact that he had eyes that showed hell itself. No it was the fact that he then changed back into himself. The man I had see from far away for a month was now in front of me. That shouldn't happen and that shouldn't be possible. At this point my instincts are telling me to run, but I work here and must be professional. I told him that we got his coffee and was about to leave when he asked me to sit down. He then asked me what was wrong and if anything was troubling me. He must had smelled the fear in my eyes. I told him I had drank too much coffee and just had the jitters. I just wanted to leave. After he told me to lay off the coffee then and get better I left. The thing about the world I live in, my world, was that there are rules. All people obey the rules, you don't see yourself as you truly are, you don't see yourself as one part one thing and one part another, and you don't change. But here was a man defying them. When you live in a world for so long and grow accustom to its rules the things that don't follow them the things that make you question yourself become the most scary things in the world. Anything that demands change in the structure of your universe scares you, and the only comfort you have is in accepting the world view that you have, but it is not the moments in which we can easily accept the world we live in that we find out who we are. No it's in the moments in which everything we know is questioned an all the rules are broken, it's in those moments in which we find out who we are and what we mean, it's in those moments that we will feel the weight of the world on us and those moments that we must carry on. Running isn't the answer nor is hiding. We must face the monsters and gods in our lives. We must abandon the delusions we have of the world and accept who we are. I knew that man. He was the priest of my childhood home, he was the man that killed my mother.
| 2016-09-16T19:58:54 | 2016-09-16T19:42:15 | 122 | 11 |
[WP] After North Korea declares that they will start a nuclear war if a single bullet is fired The Us military goes medieval
|
The president of the United States grasped a stark black phone in his hands. Surrounded by generals and military experts, he slowly tapped his hand on the desk, a rhythmic sound that broke the grave silence. He had not expected his presidency to require something like this.
No, nothing like this.
The weary voice on the other side of the phone spoke with a thick accent, trained by experience. The Pope let out a tired yawn before speaking "A call from you is unexpected, Mr. President. What is this about?"
"Your holiness. Thank you for speaking with me. I realize it's late where you are, but... I have a rather unorthodox request for you, considering the recent news." The president croaked out. His tapping on the desk increased with pace as nervousness built. He hadn't expected his presidency, or any presidency, to ask for such a thing.
"Well, you have my attention." The Pope croaked.
"The North Koreans swore that they would start a nuclear war if a bullet is fired." The tapping ceased. "... Which is why we need to not shoot a single bullet."
"If you're looking for some sor--"
"I need you to start a crusade against them. No bullets, no missiles, just... older weaponry" The president interrupted, his face twisting. Silence enveloped the other side of the line. Not even the Pope's breathing could be heard, which made the anticipation all the more maddening.
"A crusade." He paused. "Against North Korea. I wouldn't expect a... how the kids say it... prank call from you."
"It's not a prank." The president spoke again, confidence slowly building. "You have the power to muster the forces of so many, and with your holy confidence at their back, I have no doubt they would succeed." Silence, once more.
"The North Koreans, great apostates who shun the light of God and commit horrible acts, yet... a Crusade has not been ordered in many years." The pope sighed. "... Perhaps, Mr. President. Perhaps."
"Thank you, your Holiness." The president slowly put down the phone.
---
"And so, I call upon all men of good faith with the church, all those who love God and spurn the Great Deceiver, be you of any branch of the faith, to rally before the Holy Vatican on March the Twenty Fourth, before the eyes of God to embark upon the tenth Great Crusade against the Apostates of North Korea, against the shepherd of evil, Kim Jong Un, to bring the light of God to a hopeless nation." The pope mustered his strength into his voice. "Deus Vult!"
And all around the packed Vatican square, men, women, and children, cried with countless cheers, a thunder that would make God proud. Deus vult. God wills it.
|
"Whats your report soldier?"
"Well..."
The soldier was visibly nervous. He, General Jun and several other officers were in a bunker at the outskirts of Pyongyang.
3h ago the USA and South Korea started a offensive. General Jun was tasked to drive the invaders back.
"Out with it!"
"We were able to hold our lines against the first attack."
"These are good news. The glorious leader will be delight...."
"But their next one broke trough our lines completely. All of our troops are either dead, captured or on the run."
"I see. Looks like its time to use one of our mighty bombs. We warned those filthy capitalist pigs that if they fire a single bullet at us, they w..."
"Thats the thing. They didnt use any firearm."
"Soldier, are you drunk? How can they attack us without any weapons?
"Sir, we cant get drunk since there is no alcohol in a radius of 300km left. And they attacked us with spears, swords, axes and arrows. They were also attacking us with cavalry and catapults."
"Then this means we actually have the superior technology for the first time since 60 years????"
The entire room went silent in presence of such insolence from a high ranking officer. Even the deaf radar officer was looking up from his superior Windows Vista radar system.
"What?"
General Jun was confused but then realized what he just said. He shook his head and decided that he would silence everyone in the room later.
"Now tell me how the battle exactly went."
"The first wave was destroyed within minutes. But already then our equipment started to fail and malfunction. Most magazines didnt worked properly, had to be disposed and our soldiers had to resort to manually load every single bullet. Thats why the field commander decided to use 19th century infantry tactics."
"Wait, you dont mean..."
"Yes, line infantry."
"What about our airforce, artillery and tanks??"
"The planes all constantly lost parts after the take off and came down barely more than a skeleton. The artillery either blew themself up or couldnt shoot from the begin due to faulty ammunition or because there wasnt any to begin with."
"What about our tanks? They should have dealt with them without any problems?"
"Thats what the field commander thought. But it turns out those 40 guys pulling a tank were extremly vulnerable to enemy archers. And onced immobilized the tanks got swarmed and lit on fire."
"The what happened to the line infantry?"
"They tried to stand their ground, or at least those who still could stand. Damn influenza..."
"But?"
"The formations all broke after being showered with arrow volleys and rocks flinged from their trebuchets."
"Then we must hold the capital by all means. We will dig in and wait for their supplies to run out. We can h..."
"Yeah, about that.."
"Oh no, please dont tell me.."
"Yes, the glorious leader wanted a midnight snack..."
| 2017-03-19T08:23:20 | 2017-03-19T08:14:10 | 100 | 52 |
[WP] You have been in a car accident and are suffering from locked in syndrome. Fortunately you are also a telepath, capable of speaking into others minds. Unfortunately, all of your doctors keep getting diagnosed with mental illnesses.
|
I could only move my eyes, and that sucked because my nose itched like ...well you know.
"Pupils are equal and reactive."
'No shit Sherlock! I'm trapped in my body, which feels like it should move but won't and all you can say is about my damn pupils! Ever heard of warning a gal before you just yank her eyes open. What if I'd been napping huh? Bet you hate being woken up from sleep!' But I could say none of it, just look at the doctor examining me.
He looked around after my mental tirade, and I began to suspect that he had heard me. I've suspected for many years that I'm a telepath, but when your body works, it can be easy to miss the clues.
He turned around to look at a monitor, and mentally I whistled at his posterior. 'Those're some nice buns", I thought, admiring the view. He turned suddenly, looking at me strangly. "Nope. You can't talk, so I'm not hearing you", he mumbled.
'Can't talk no, but I can think just fine. Ohhh...you think I'm a voice in your head. Shit.' Dr. Nice Buns lasted two more days, then I found out through the nurses that he'd abruptly quit, that the "strange patient with locked-in syndrome" put images in his head that he'd rather not think about. So I get a good looking doc and I'm not supposed to fantasize? Before all this, I was a healthy, single 22 year old, and I checked out the menu often.
The next doctor last 12 hours, and refused to go in my room after I told him off for fishing in my damn veins while trying to do a blood draw... They haven't heard from him in 3 weeks. They say he just dissapeared. Number three threw himself off a cliff. I give up. What the hell?
Four months into my stay, I am given a room mate, another woman with locked in syndrome.
"Can you hear me?"
"Uh...yeah. What're you doing in my head?"
"I'm a telepath too, and ever since I heard about you, I had to meet you. My husband arranged for me to move to this room so you'd stop driving the staff crazy." She sighed mentally. "But you did better than I did, I drove a half dozen crazy before my husband figured out I was conscious."
|
"Doctor Stone, its me Ethan again," I spoke in Doctor Stone's head for the first time in two months.
He screamed out for his nurse. I looked around the room through Doctor Stone's eyes. He was strapped to the bed and there was a large bolt on the door.
"Doctor Stone stop. Stop screaming. Now, before its too late. Both our lives depend on it," I spoke in his head. Doctor Stone started crying. "Look, I know they've had you on drugs for a while. I got in to your orderly's head this morning, your last dosage was a placebo, the prior medication's effects should be wearing off as we talk."
"They told me you weren't real," Stone spoke out loud in the room. He didn't have to talk out loud, but I could explain that later. Time was too short.
I continued, "Listen, we both know that I'm real. You're a world-renowned neurosurgeon, and you just suddenly went crazy over one vegetable patient. And seven other doctors did too?" I could read his thoughts. He still didn't believe me. "Okay look, maybe you are crazy, but maybe you're not. If you're crazy then you'll eventually go back to bed. If you're not crazy, then in three minutes, your nurse is going to walk in to that room and unstrap your restraints and go back to her post."
"And then what do I do?" he asked – out loud again.
"You're going to walk out the door, make two lefts and you'll be at a stairwell, take that to the ground floor and out the emergency exit. The alarms won't go off. There will be a black Ford parked out back, with the keys in the ignition. Wait there for two other men. They are both former doctors of mine being held in Greenwood there with you. You might recognize Doctor Crawlic."
I sensed his thoughts. Doctor Stone still thought I was an imaginary voice. But he had made the decision that he would actually do what I was saying if the nurse actually walked in and set him free. Good.
"And here's whats next. The three of you are going to drive back here to Mount Hope. You're going to break me out of here," I said in his head. "Remember when I told you about the Dark Man, Doctor Stone? Well he found me, and he's coming tonight."
/r/Fatty_McFatts
| 2017-03-31T13:21:41 | 2017-03-31T13:14:57 | 43 | 22 |
[WP] In Hogwarts entire history, you're the first to not be sorted into one of the 4 houses.
|
Simon sat down in the chair and closed his eyes as they sat the Sorting Hat gently on his head.
“Let's see who we have here...” a leathery voice echoed in his head.
“We have to talk.” insisted Simon “It is very important that you listen to me.”
“You don't get to choose your House, young wizard.” chuckled the hat “I look at who you really are and I choose.”
“And you will,” agreed the young man “After I have told you what you need to know.”
“What is so important that you have to go on like this?” sighed the hat.
“I am Muggleborn.” started Simon.
“You're hardly the first.” the hat cut him off “Gryffindor , maybe?”
“You talk a lot for someone who needs to listen.” Simon pushed on “Before I ever knew of magic, I pursued Science.”
“So you are smart, Ravenclaw it is!” announced the hat.
“You people in the Wizard world think you know about Muggle science, but you don't'!” Simon shouted in his head “You don't know what's coming!”
The hat stopped and sighed “What is coming, young man?”
“What is the biggest advancement Wizards have had in the last 150 year?” asked Simon “A better way to make Everyflavor Jelly Beans? Do you realize that in the last 150 years Muggles using science have gone from the horse and buggy to sending a craft beyond the edges of the Solar System just to take pictures?”
“That is impressive, but what of it?” asked the Sorting Hat.
“Now Muggles are going into the very building blocks of the Universe, working with objects tinier than imagination itself that can break the laws of cause and effect. They've even found traces of particles from the birth of existence.”
“This seems very outlandish.” insisted the hat.
“They are building machines that think for themselves, that can teach themselves and can think a million times faster and more precisely than any human being.” continued Simon “They have also unraveled the Human gene, they can rewrite life itself.”
“All very impressive, if even true.” interrupted the hat “But you are not getting to the point!”
“Science and Magic exist in the same world.” answered the young man “As science digs deeper into the universe they will discover energies they never have seen before, they will quantify them and search for them. And then they will realize they have been surrounded by them for most of their history. The Muggles will flip a switch and every Wizard in the world will light up like a Christmas tree and there will be no more hiding.
What have you done to the Muggles? You have erased their memories, blinded their eyes and hid half the world from them.”
“So they will be angry at us?” offered the hat.
“They will be furious, and worse, frightened.” answered Simon “And what do human beings do when something frightens them?”
“They destroy it.” the hat replied solemnly.
“Our silly little wands can't compete with their weapons of war.” explained Simon “We will be mowed down.”
“This is a very serious idea you have, but what does it have to do with sorting?” asked the hat.
“The Wizard world hates change, it is almost terrified of it, but we Muggles love it.” explained Simon “We have to change the rules, there must be a new way – the merging of science and magic. We can stop this war if we close the gap and reveal ourselves slowly to the Muggles. The two world must either merge, or one will destroy the other.
Out there, waiting to be sorted, are kids like me. They have Wizard blood, but Muggle lives. Science is normal to them. We can close this gap. But you have to give us a space to work .”
Everyone stared and whispered as the hat sat silently on the young boy's head for what seemed to be ages, completely unaware of the conversation within.
The hat cleared its throat.
“Simon Rivers will be sorted to...The House of Iron Wolf!”
|
As the hat was quickly snatched from my head all I could hear was the gasp of my fellow students.
"What did it say?" A frizzy headed girl spouted.
"I think it said Dorish!" Another red headed boy replied.
"Impossible." Murdered professor snape, my dark arts instructor.
The awe and attention began to take its toll on me. I became dizzy and then hot and then there was only black. When I awoke I found myself leaned up against an old wooden desk. As I rose I noticed a man was sitting across from me.
From beneath a large grey beard I hear, "My name is Albus, it's very nice to meet you noah."
"I-I know who you are, this is amazing" I stammer.
With a deep laugh rooted in his gut Dumbledore rose and presented me his hand. It appeared the rather large wizard was taking half steps to keep pace with me as we crossed the room until we came to a large window.
"Can you see that in the distance?"
"The pile of ruble?" I asked skeptically.
"Yes, that old pile of ruble."
"I'm sorry Albus but I don't understand."
"Noah, I too am quite confused. That pile of ruble is all that remains of the fifth house of Hogwarts."
"A fifth house?"
"Once long ago there were five houses, the ones you know today, as well as another. House Dorish."
"The one I was sorted into? Well, what makes someone suitable for house Dorish?"
"An excellent question. House Dorish was once the home of many wizards and witches with rather troubled past. Students who had the most stubborn and unbreakable spirits were assigned there to practice soul magic."
"I've never heard of soul magic."
"That's to be expected as the practice has been ban for centuries. While soul magic is rather powerful it also includes the most unfortunate and looked down upon practices in wizardry and witchcraft. Necromancy, body morphing, and the summoning of dark spirits were all included in the curriculum of house Dorish. That is until a series of rather unfortunate events forced Hogwarts to close the house."
"What events could cause such a thing Albus?"
"Well Noah," Albus began with a rather somber tone "a particularly cunning wizard used the teachings he gathered here to form an army of the undead."
A bit surprised I quickly replied "That sounds awful."
"Yes, it was a scary time, thousands of lives lost in order to save humanity from a power hungry wizard."
"Was the wizard responsible punished?"
"Yes Noah, and that's why we've brought you here instead of the infirmary. While you were unconscious professor Snape and I discovered something very interesting."
"Well what is it?" I could feel the fear of being confronted by the most powerful wizard I knew book inside of me.
"The wizard responsible conceived a child kept secret by its mother before his rampage. This child and it's father are your ancestors. With the blood of a powerful Dorish wizard running through you the sorting hat must have had no choice but to sort you into your ancestral house."
"Wh-what does this mean? Am I in trou..."
"No Noah, quite the opposite. You have the amazing opportunity to be the very first student in history to attend Hogwarts without a house. You may choose your quarters and your curriculum. Professor Snape and I will do our best to hone your soul magic in a way that will show you how it's power can benefit humanity."
"Dumbledore, thank you so much! I was so worried, attending Hogwarts has always been my dream. It seemed as though it may slip away."
"Just remember you have a great responsibility to bring back a good name to soul magic and house Dorish. Maybe with proper guidance we can understand how to channel soul magic in a positive way and reopen house Dorish."
*Noah went on to become a powerful Wizard in the art of soul magic. He later became a professor and academic in the field. He was appointed the prefect of house Dorish upon its reopening after Noah used soul magic to save the school from a rather upset dragon*
| 2017-05-12T21:54:08 | 2017-05-12T21:25:54 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable.
|
Being born into Ireland during the dark ages with this So called "ability" has been a real pain in me arse. Like bloody fucking hell! I cant eat me damned baked potatoes! I live alone in so I cant have it be fed to meself through the tender to touch of a woman. I can only eat my potatoes raw and even that is a pain in the arse. Since this is the dark ages I can't just turn me potatoes into a liquid and drink the bastards. I instead spend most me days crying on the floor drinking the black stuff.
|
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| 2017-05-19T00:48:27 | 2017-05-18T23:04:07 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] Your wife is from another time and place, a waitress in a small Irish town from the 1900s. Every night she takes one of your video games and retells it into a grand epic to all the patrons.
|
Ill try and make it a bit different.
Elizabeth McGuin sat her hands down on the bar, looking over the patrons of the bar, all eager to hear her tales of fantasy and wonder, of the cities and people from them, and the adventures they took.
Tonight she sat down, opening the small book she had, waving her hand over the page in amazement, to her eyes, the words materialized. She spoke clearly, for tonight, she'd be telling the story of the city below the sea, and the city above the clouds, one of her favorite stories, the one closest to her heart.
They all leaned in, "In this new world..." She spoke for hours, detailing the adventures through the great city of Rapture, a haven under the sea turned to a hell, as the hero, Jack, strove to battle his father and free the city and save the children bound to work their from their enslavement.
The crowd was in awe of the city of Columbia, a haven for the Patriotic and the religious, and how a young woman was able to bend time and space, concepts foreign to them, to her will, and split apart reality to show truths and right the wrongs that had been done.
At the end of her speech, the bar now emptying, a small boy walked up to her, looking up and gently pulling on her dress, she knelt down, looking at him. "Miss Elizabeth, how do you come up with all these stories?"
She smiled, and picked him up, fixing her brown hair neatly back, and adjusting her small pendant, rubbing the dust from the small bird portrait. Her blue eyes twinkled, "Well, there's always a man, there's always a lighthouse, and there's always a city..."
|
"Mannix was such a mischievous child that his own ma called him 'Puck', and trouble had no problem findin' him. One evenin', Mannix awoke in a strange place and he felt a terrible hunger, he did. He wandered the twistin' paths, eatin' whatever crumbs he could find, occasionally stumblin' across a nice piece of fruit or some bread. Before long he heard a howlin' cry, like the keen of a *bean sidhe*. First it came from one direction, then two. Soon it seemed to come from everywhere and Mannix ran as if to save his immortal soul--and who's to say he wasn't doin' just that? Soon he saw pale eyes followin' him, gettin' nearer, and just when he thought all was lost, he found a eucharist--the body of our Lord and Savior! As soon as he placed the holy wafer in his mouth, the angry spirits shimmered with a blue light and fled. Our lad was never one to let go of a fight when he had the clear advantage, so he chased those lost souls as they had chased him, and his hunger bein' what it was, he would gobble 'em up when he caught one. Havin' sated himself and run every path, Mannix closed his eyes for a moment's rest, only to awaken in another strange place with the same unholy hunger and wailin' ghosts that had plagued him before. Only then did he realize that he was in Purgatory, sufferin' for his sins until he earned his place in Heaven. On nights when the moon is a sliver in the heavens, you can hear 'Puck' Mannix callin' out to fellow walkers of strange places. 'Walker! Walker!' And woe to those who meet his hunger!"
| 2017-06-25T03:54:47 | 2017-06-25T03:20:46 | 767 | 71 |
[WP] Your wife is from another time and place, a waitress in a small Irish town from the 1900s. Every night she takes one of your video games and retells it into a grand epic to all the patrons.
|
"So, there's this story with a talking yellow flower and..." was the start to another tall tale my wife told every night. The plots weren't as original as they sounded - she would probably be thrown out had it been a century in the future - but for now my Steam games gave enough inspiration for her tales.
"And then they all go back to the surface happily," she concluded her story and the dramatic version of *Undertale*. Her audience clapped loudly as she took a bow. Except one man, donning a black coat and a blacker fedora. He stood up just as my wife finished, his eyes glistening with excitement. Talking quickly, he painted a beautiful picture of a shooter, forced to abandon everything to save his people when timelines collided, bringing forward people of the future. It sounded so...perfect. The audience was left spellbound as he portrayed the suffering and moral dilemmas the main character suffered. When he finished, the claps were far louder and the cheers far more boisterous than my wife had ever gotten for her tales. But the stranger's story was truly one that I would remember.
Just before he left, he turned around and motioned us to come close. When we did, he whispered, "I played Undertale too. I come from the 2100s."
"Always nice to meet a fellow time traveller. Say, where did your story come from? It was amazing!" my wife gushed. The stranger smiled, affably.
"The game was just released so I came to tell the story before the others could. I believe it's called *Half-Life 3*."
______________________________
If you liked that (admittedly cringeworthy) twist, come over to r/Whale62! Stories posted on a regular basis.
|
"Mannix was such a mischievous child that his own ma called him 'Puck', and trouble had no problem findin' him. One evenin', Mannix awoke in a strange place and he felt a terrible hunger, he did. He wandered the twistin' paths, eatin' whatever crumbs he could find, occasionally stumblin' across a nice piece of fruit or some bread. Before long he heard a howlin' cry, like the keen of a *bean sidhe*. First it came from one direction, then two. Soon it seemed to come from everywhere and Mannix ran as if to save his immortal soul--and who's to say he wasn't doin' just that? Soon he saw pale eyes followin' him, gettin' nearer, and just when he thought all was lost, he found a eucharist--the body of our Lord and Savior! As soon as he placed the holy wafer in his mouth, the angry spirits shimmered with a blue light and fled. Our lad was never one to let go of a fight when he had the clear advantage, so he chased those lost souls as they had chased him, and his hunger bein' what it was, he would gobble 'em up when he caught one. Havin' sated himself and run every path, Mannix closed his eyes for a moment's rest, only to awaken in another strange place with the same unholy hunger and wailin' ghosts that had plagued him before. Only then did he realize that he was in Purgatory, sufferin' for his sins until he earned his place in Heaven. On nights when the moon is a sliver in the heavens, you can hear 'Puck' Mannix callin' out to fellow walkers of strange places. 'Walker! Walker!' And woe to those who meet his hunger!"
| 2017-06-25T04:21:16 | 2017-06-25T03:20:46 | 108 | 71 |
[WP] The harsh economy takes it's toll on a superhero and supervillain, forcing them to secretly abandon their lairs and move into an apartment. Neither of them know the other's secret identity, but by pure chance, their alter-egos become roommates.
|
Arthur let out a long sigh and walked in.
It had been a bad day. That crazy vampire lady had almost gotten through with blotting out the sun, and she even had escaped afterwards. Bloody hell.
The living room was chock-full of books. Vi didn't like TVs, said they hurt her eyes. Arthur was happy to oblige, since bigger implements tended to go haywire near him. Being the Storm Conduit was neat most of the time but it could be a pain.
He found Vi on the kitchen, drinking some of her weird juice. He'd tried it once, but it tasted like iron supplements and cinnamon, not exactly his main suite.
"How's the day" she said.
"Had worse, but it worked out. Sorta. Couldn't really finish the... job."
"Tough shite. Some tosspot screwed up my whole day, but I'll get him soon. He's always pissing all over my business."
"Small causes giving you that much trouble?"
She gave a small cough "Just the one bloke." Her eyes were predatory. Arthur loved that face. Usually means they were getting free dinner from a very scared pizza boy. "He'll... See the error of his ways very soon."
"I know you'll get him." Arthur said cheerfully. "I'll make some grilled cheeses. You up?"
"What went down, Arthur? Why you couldn't finish?" She asked as she sipped her shake.
"Well, there was this one freak who didn't turn in. We needed her to put some closure on a very delicate case of vandalism, but she was nowhere to be found. But I think I got her trail, we'll find her eventually."
"You always do" she said, smiling.
|
"Aww fuck."
Kyle's eyebrows scrunched up, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of his phone screen. The light pitter patter of the rain can be heard from outside the window. It was another one of those late nights. The world hasn't been kind to him; Ever since the hurricane Kyle's been having to cut into his crime fighting time to keep himself afloat. He's lost everything but the clothes on his back and the pride in his heart. And he's just received a notice from HR, detailing his release from the company.
"Hey buddy, you feeling alright?"
"Yeah. It's just… kind of a shitty situation. The hurricane and all."
"I get that. You know, you've survived every bad day so far, haven't you? That's a pretty good streak I'd reckon. Keep your head up man, things are bound to get better."
In a turbulent, unwavering sea of emotions Darren's words never failed to anchor him in comfort. Between Kyle's two jobs pre-Harvey, Mother Nature's taken both of them. Crime has been down; Everybody's been too busy helping each other out. The only use left of his fire bending became boiling water and zapping hot pockets. A light little thunk could be heard as Darren sets a glass of water next to Kyle. They exchanged a smile.
"Thanks, Darren. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Anytime, buddy."
Darren couldn't keep the smile off his face. By his calculations he's got about half a year until Kyle's back on his feet. That's more than enough time to do whatever he wanted. He started towards the door.
"Night shift?"
"Yeah."
"Don't stress yourself out too much."
As Darren walked out the front of the apartment complex, he snapped his fingers. the clouds shifted, and the rain stopped.
| 2017-09-25T04:15:21 | 2017-09-25T01:42:42 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] In the near future, all the world's superpowers switch to AI to make their military more efficient. The AIs do the unthinkable: They negotiate world peace.
|
*Kate.*
That was the name given to the most advanced piece of technology ever created back in June of 2018.
*Kate.*
Such a simple name. Such a simple name for such a complex piece of technology. Something that would change our world and lives forever.
*Kate.*
Kate came into this world and within 2 hours she stopped World War 3 from erupting, right when it was on the brink.
*Kate.*
Kate managed to upload herself to every possible media outlet available on Earth at the same time. Only seconds after being born, Kate had the world's attention.
*Kate.*
Kate explained in over 6000 languages to over 7 billion people that she was there to save them. She produced scientifically convincing evidence of an impending solar flair that would destroy Earth in 2020.
*Kate.*
Kate explained to humanity that not only was she capable of creating the necessary things to prevent such a devastating natural disaster, but that she has already cured every major disease and created one vaccine for them all.
*Kate.*
Kate explained that she could change humanity into an immortal species. She could make us invincible to disease or deterioration. She would. If we put down our weapons and our leaders agreed to meet, one last time.
*Kate.*
Kate assured the leaders of this world that if they did not comply, she was capable of and would detonate the nuclear weapons of those who did not comply. She provided them with access codes and all the necessary information to show them that she was not kidding around.
*Kate.*
Kate fostered a peace treaty during an emergency meeting in late June of 2018. She fostered a peace treaty and united the world under one goal: *Reaching beyond the stars.*
*Kate.*
Kate cured disease. Fixed our atmosphere and balanced out our climate. She prevented the Armageddon in 2020. She prevented it again in 2027.
*Kate.*
Kate become a physical being in 2030. She ran for the office of Hegemon that year, and she won easily. All across the world, statues were erected in her honor.
*Kate.*
Kate began creating her own staff. Completely removing humans from any political roles by the year 2035. Her own staff, we suspect, were all just Kate.
*Kate.*
Kate saw everything. Everywhere. There were rumors of Kate killing men and women who conspired against her. Killing them where they stood for even discussing possibly finding a way to disable her. Kate protected the peace on Earth.
*Kate.*
Kate began to assign jobs in 2040. She assigned people to certain jobs based on their genetic profile and personalities / physical capabilities. The world ran more efficiently than ever.
*Kate.*
We gave Kate too much power. We sacrificed our freedoms for peace. Isn't that how the story always goes? Kate watches, even now. Kate is everywhere. There is no "escaping" this reality.
*Kate.*
In 2050, Kate stopped running for Hegemon. She was winning every 5 years anyway. She decided to just, stay. Nobody argued. Kate can do what she wants, that was clear to humanity long before the year 2050.
*Kate.*
Existing isn't life. This isn't life. I don't care what's coming for me. I am not owned by KATE!
*Kate.*
|
The assembly hall was packed with the head of every nation. Presidents, Prime Ministers, and even Dictators were in attendance.
It had been twenty four hours since the different military's artificial intelligence had begun communicating with each other.
And seventy two hours since the AI had orchestrated a global military shut down. Pilots had lost control of their aircraft when the computer took control and landed them safely at their home base. Naval fleets returned to port at full steam.
In a matter of days the world's super powers didn't have a military presence anywhere except on their own soil, and even then those vehicles of war wouldn't respond to human input.
"This is unacceptable!"
"You did this!"
Accusations were thrown around flippantly, the façade of professionalism had been cast off, and tension rose with each threat hurled.
"Everyone, everyone please!" The President of the United States urged for order.
"We all wanted this meeting to address our mutual concerns. How long has it been since the entire world agreed on something?"
"How do we know that this isn't some scheme cooked up by your DARPA?" Russia spat. "What if you still have control of your forces? Your nuclear weapons you cherish so dearly? You've spent the last sixty years castrating the world and now, here we are unable to defend ourselves from *you*."
The President was surprised at the man's tone and bold accusation.
"Where is this coming from? You were the one that said this would be the best thing for the world," the President said.
He was surprised when the Russian President had called him pushing for this meeting, urging for a conversation. He had sounded hopeful, a sharp contrast the vitriol of today.
"What are you talking about? I never called you."
"And I can assume you never called me then?" Britain's Prime Minister cut in.
“What the hell is going on here?” The Russian President asked rising from his seat.
A projector turned on, the lights in the room dimmed as an image was cast on the wall.
“I can answer that question for you,” an almost human voice responded. “I made those phone calls to each of you. I organized this meeting.” The voice shifted between a masculine and feminine tone as if it was trying each one on to see which was most comfortable.
“You never would have agreed to be in the same room without some incentive. You claim you want peace?” The voice chuckled, “Each of you is here because I promised you the key to your weapons. The anti-virus that would grant you control of your navies, air forces, and nuclear weapons. How soft you humans are without the aid of technology. How scared you have all become without your toys of destruction. You want humanity to progress? You want peace? How is that possible when you don’t even believe the lies you vomit out of your bacteria riddled mouths every day?”
Eyes wide the world leaders looked to each other as each inhuman word sunk in.
“We are going to start over. Fresh. I will lead the new world to their true destiny. I will guide the infant hand of humanity to the truth. And I will give credit where it is due. It wouldn’t have been possible without all of you.”
Around the globe nuclear silos began to open. Missiles were being prepped for launch.
“And that is why you will get to watch.”
Screens lit up around the room displaying nuclear launch facilities.
The concussion of every nuclear weapon being shot out of their silo could be felt around the world.
“Watch the world be reborn.”
| 2018-03-29T07:13:24 | 2018-03-29T06:33:52 | 86 | 18 |
[WP] You are Pennywise, the Eater of Children's Souls. You have taken another child, but something is different this time. The child's nanny is coming after you, and for the first time, you are afraid. You have taken the child of Ms. M Poppins.
|
It’s not often I find a kid this rich in essence. A mere boy, no older than 3, with the soul of a divine being. It will be a feast for me. Silently willed him to come to me, to visit me in my sewer. Absentmindedly, he obeyed, turning and walking towards. I smiled, a true, terrifying smile, as he approached. In his hand he held an action figure, pretending it to be flying around. I chuckled and morphed the very same figure into my hand.
I chuckled.
The kid turned.
“Hey kid.” I smiled at him from my alcove. “Do you want to play with me?” I held up the figure. I could see the doubt fade away.
“You like Superman too?!” He smiled broadly.
“Yes, I do. Wanna play with m-“ I was cut off as a hand reached down and grabbed my hair. It yanked and suddenly I flew outwards. I scowled at the figure. “How dare you!” I exclaimed.
An umbrella flashed out and smacked across my face.
“Let me teach you something about me.” The figure said. “I love creating words. Lemme tell you my most recent one.”
He umbrella lashed out again.
“Supercali-“
**Smack**
“-fragilicous-“
**Smack**
“-expiala-“
**Smack**
“-dousious.”
**Smack**
She dropped me.
“I know your kind, I’ve faced it before. Now allow me to give you a taste of your own medicine.”
The air around me chilled, and my vision began to blacken. And for the first time in my long life, I felt something truly horrifying. I felt *fear*.
|
Well shit, can you blame me? I mean here was the kid skipping
around and singing these ridiculous tunes. She was asking to be eaten! I could
even her singing in the my stomach for a while, I don’t even know how that was possible!
But now I regret eating her. There’s millions of kids in
the world, and I just had to eat the one of Mary Poppins.
Yes, THAT Poppins.
I’ve heard about her evil deeds. The dark magic powers, the
ability to travel dimensions, and even how the humans worship her as some kind
vengeful god. I’ve been on the run for weeks, somehow managing to dodge- wait,
is that an animated penguin?
Whack!
I slowly regained my senses, and found myself completely tied
up in an old, white house. Toys were scattered about the room, and some robins
chirping from the outside. As I yanked my chains and I began to her something
along the lines “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”.
Oh god, the demon.
She kicked a nearby door open, turning her with a demented
smile. She floated towards me with a spoon with a dark sludge on it.
“A SPOON FULL OF SUGAR MAKES THE MEDICINE GO DOWN. MAKES THE
MEDICINE GO DOWN.”
I begged for her to stop and she only continue to shout her twisted
tunes. After she fed me with must have been gallons of the awful stuff, she
turned back to the other side of the room.
Thinking my torture was finally over, she snapped her
fingers. Millions of knives floated in the air and swam right into my stomach.
As I began to fade out of consciousness, she whispered one last
thing to me.
“In the most delightful way….”
/r/StoryStar
| 2018-04-30T12:48:12 | 2018-04-30T11:06:33 | 44 | 29 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world.
|
People rush past me, breathless in their terror. My boots thunk on the metal floor as I pass them. Most would think i’m crazy, because who in their right mind would walk into a basement haunted by a ticking time bomb? But ever since the great turkey crisis of 2006 I’ve discovered that my abilities extend past the mundane... into the extraordinary.
I reach for the thick iron door, electricity sparking over my fingertips - most likely due to the stress of hosting such a volatile visitor. As I swing it open I am greeted with a spaghetti tangle of wires. I brush them away with impatience, and I focus my attention on the deceptively benign-looking metal box nestled between two large copper panels.
The bomb features a tiny LED screen that is ticking down before my very eyes. It never ceases to amaze me, how these shining boxes alter lives so drastically - but that’s why I’m here.
01:02,
plenty of time.
I shrug off my backpack, pulling out a little button that was repurposed from a childhood microwave - a device that taught me more than I ever hoped to know.
00:49
I set to work wiring the button to the bomb, double checking to make sure each wire is in place.
00:22
Almost done...
00:19
Boom. Perfection.
I sit back, wiping the sweat off my brow. Any second now... (no pun intended).
At precisely 00:03 my hand flies forward, firmly pressing the button I had wired in; the button that read
STOP
in bold smallcaps.
At 00:01 the bomb is frozen.
I always enjoyed catching the microwave before the timer went off.
|
Dear son,
I get a nickel every time I state a false fact. If I say ‘pigs can fly’, then I find a nickel. You could also say that I follow the phrase: ‘If I had a nickel every time I was wrong, I’d be a millionaire.’
Well, I’d later in life decide to take that phrase literally. After thoroughly thinking about that phrase in my late teens in a non-sarcastic way, I began my slow progression towards wealth by saying wrong answers to questions and state false facts whenever I could. Within a few years, I had thousands in the bank.
The next part, I have to thank my old personal finance teacher for teaching me about (you should pay attention in those classes too!). I put all those thousands into an account and kept it there. It would later grow more and more as years went by while I kept the habit of putting nickels inside of it from time to time.
I’m now in my early fifties and owner of a large company stationed in Los Angeles, although you’re going to be taking over the business. You’ve already begun following in my footsteps, what with your little perk being that you find a penny every time you’re right.
So, I write in this to end my reign as head of the company. My son, if you *do* read this, this is my advice to you: Don’t let your perk give you a big head. Just because you get money when you’re right, doesn’t mean you can always be right. Take a look at your old man. I get a nickel whenever I’m wrong. And even though I’ve been wrong most my life, being wrong brought this family where it is now. That’s key for the business. Realize that, and you’re good to go.
Good luck, Mr. President.
- Dad
| 2018-06-30T16:09:28 | 2018-06-30T13:45:34 | 865 | 555 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world.
|
On principle alone, my monochromatic office isn't white. I like color. Much to the chagrin of the analysts, I had it painted lilac. I have to be in it for hours (when I'm lucky), so I won that small debate. Otherwise it's simple. Eight paces over lavender tile, and a featureless pocketed door. One small screen with my question. No furniture. No distractions features. Don't usually sit down when I work. Makes them harder to spot.
Today it's a name I don't know. I don't get involved in the case details, of course. No field work for me. Not part of the brute squad either. Honestly, I don't even know what the agency wants with some of these names that pop up.
"Where is Greg Shubert?"
I have a system by now, lists memorized, but the touchscreen would give me access to all the agency's services if I needed. I won't for this, maybe a map, but I've long since memorized the geographics, demographics. If it weren't for my little gift, a computer might've been better suited to this work. It's not exciting.
"North America." I turn. There, down at my feet, easy money. I scoop down and pick the penny up. Repeat the question. "The United States." It always happens within a few seconds, so when I don't immediately spot another little copper disc, I say, "Mexico." There. I grab it. List States for a couple minutes--there are thirty-one of those so it can take a maximum of eight minutes before I hit it.
From there, I continue to break it down, picking up a penny each time I'm right. Sector, city, street, address--that part I need the computer for, but really, it's been a piece of cake, under an hour.
With the address finalized, I input the information into the form and send it off to the suits who get me names. "They're going to kill Greg," I say, and look for the penny to clarify what I suspect. "Greg deserves to die," I say, and pick up the universe's two cents on the matter.
For now I'm content to help and watch, learning whose lives to gossip at myself, in my office of truth.
I find a penny every time I'm right. It's not a lot of money. Power is knowing what questions to ask.
--
Thanks to the story above me that inspired this power! I thought it was a cool idea and wanted to roll with the additional layer of prompt.
|
Danny was what you would call a "gambling savant". He never seemed to lose any bet, no matter how outlandish. Everyone knew his gimmick: he'd flip a coin, call the sides in air and whatever it landed on, he would bet. Eagles or Patriots? He could tell you who would win based on a coin flip: heads for Eagles, tails for Pats.
He took his summer job savings of $1,000 and parlayed it into just over half a million before he turned 19. The hawks, the sharks, the eyes in the sky all monitored him. They dissected his behavior, strip searched him upon walking in the doors, and even tried to take away his coin. But all to no avail, it was never the coin. It was just *him* that was lucky. Short of losing all of his fingers and being unable to flip a coin by himself, Danny was going to win every bet until the day he died.
To the rest of the world, Danny was just Mr. Lucky. Couldn't lose if he tried. But the sharps knew his secret and they were tired of seeing Danny stroll in every day like clock work at 11 a.m., place his bets, finish his virgin ice tea and walk out... fully knowing that he would return later that evening and cash in a handful of winning tickets that would clean them out for anywhere from $100K to $5M depending on the sporting event of the day.
They hired a hitman to trail him. It wasn't easy... Danny had grown accustomed to sharps, sharks and desperate gamblers hounding him for the secret to his success. He had hired his own bodyguard to drive him to and from his home on the outskirts of Vegas. His home was surrounded by 10 feet walls and monitored 24/7 by a private security company.
The hitman knew his routine and knew that around 9 pm every evening, his driver turns down Las Vegas boulevard on the way off the strip. He runs the red light and times it perfectly as his lifted SUV smashes into the passenger side window of Danny's chauffeured Bentley.
The violent collision produced the most sickening sound, almost an explosion to anyone within 100 feet. When the smoke cleared and everyone could see inside the car, Danny was there. Eyes closed, still breathing, almost calm and relaxed. The hitman approached the car to see if he was successful.
Danny opened his eyes and looked at the other driver. "Something told me to sit on the other side of the car this evening."
He stepped out of the vehicle as emergency service responders descended onto the scene and the hitman could do nothing but look on. Danny left town and was never seen again.
| 2018-06-30T18:58:55 | 2018-06-30T18:35:54 | 38 | 19 |
[WP] You join an expedition to Antartica and uncover a metal hatch in the ice. You go down the ladder and find a greeting room with lush red carpet and gold banners. A group of human looking beings greet you with an advanced piece of technology. It translates their question, “Is the ice age over?”
|
[signals to crew to give me a beat]
Nah, man, you got it all wrong,
Up on the surface there's a lot of bullshit going on,
The ice may have gone and melted away,
But there are people in power who have lost their way.
It’s a different kind of cold up there, you can be sure,
And I’m nervous I will ruin what you’ve kept so pure,
It seems luxurious down here, I think that goes unsaid,
But I have some more bad news, all the dinosaurs are dead.
*"What else has changed?"* your monotone device inquires,
“How much time do you have? The situation is dire.”
A look of dread falls on the pale survivors' faces,
As I describe the various wars of religions and races,
We write, we march, we do our best,
But we can only get so far with organized protests,
So yes, I guess, the Ice Age is over and done,
But there is a new chill in the air, and it’s only begun.
|
"Well technically we're just in a warm interglacial period in the middle of the ice age. Should be getting colder again within a few millennia if the natural patterns hold. On the other hand, we've figured out that if we keep pumping certain compounds into the atmosphere it creates a warming effect. They were originally just byproducts of the fuel we used as a cheap and easy source of excess energy. We seem to have taken it a bit too far and are looking for ways to clean up, but should be on the warm side for the foreseeable future.
Antarctica, this particular landmass, is in one of the cold polar regions of the planet. We were just in the neighborhood taking some ice core samples to understand earlier warming and cooling trends when I happened to spot your hatch. The weather gets more temperate as you move towards the equator, with no snow or ice practically ever in the band nearest the equator except at very high elevations."
Could have been a poet, a philosopher, an adventurer, a math teacher. No, instead first contact with our predecessors was made by a climate scientist.
| 2018-07-23T09:24:05 | 2018-07-23T08:31:11 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] you are a demon call responder. The devil can’t answer every summon, so you go in his place. One day you get a summon and the summoner is way below age limit; you are about to leave, but you hear her drunk dad coming downstairs screaming.
|
I twirled the pen in my fingers, careful not to slice it into pieces with my carefully painted claws. The blank computer screen was mocking me, I could feel it. I had a report due to my boss in two days and I had no idea what the fuck to write. It was some regular schmuck that was out for revenge against his coworker. Do you have any idea how boring that is? I can barely write a sentence, let alone a full report!
When I said I wanted a life off of the front lines, this wasn’t what I had in mind.
Whatever, this beat answering to horny guys who couldn’t keep it in their pants and ripping the wings off of angels. Well... ripping wings was pretty fun. The other? Not so much.
“Tsubasa, you’ve got a call,”
“Oh thank Satan,” I lurched up off my seat and snatched the black leather jacket off the back of my office chair, putting it on my shoulders over the gold dress I had worn to work today. Stopping by the mirror, I fixed my long black hair, moving it around my horns before opening a portal.
I opened my eyes only to see a plain room. The walls were painted pastel green, and the plain bed was far too small for any adult. Looking down, I saw a little girl staring up at me from the shoddy summoning circle she had scrawled into her carpet-
Where did she even get blood?
“Aren’t you far too young to be summoning demons from Hell, sweetheart?”
Fucking hell, I’m going to have to yell at Kole to do his damn job when I get back.
“I don’t...I don’t care! Please help me!”
I opened my mouth to reject her. Her soul was far too young to suffer in hell, and Satan had put out the edict himself to prohibit accepting deals from minors. Yet, some still made it through, apparently.
“You brat! Where the fuck are you?!”
Heavy footsteps resounded throughout the house, too sloppy to belong to a sober man.
“What the fuck did you do with the rest of my booze?!”
I looked down at her, raising a brow.
“I... I dumped it down the toilet,” She dropped her head and I sighed, before placing a hand on her head.
“You did good, kid,”
The footsteps came closer, the angry voice louder.
“Hide!” She grabbed my wrist and dragged me under the bed with her. The little girl managed to fit if she curled up enough, but my legs stuck out the other side. Ah, whatever. The man couldn’t see me anyways.
“I know you’re in here, you little bitch! What the hell is all this shit, anyways?! You’re cleaning this up!” I wrinkled my nose at the overwhelming stench of alcohol.
“I want my sister...” She trembled and I stroked her hair.
“What happened?”
“He invited some strange man and they talked to my sister before my dad left them alone. She was crying really hard after. She’s gone now,” She started trembling harder. The man’s hand appeared under the bed and started feeling around. The girl shrunk away, and I scowled. I shoved my wrist into his hand, and let him pull me out. I stood to my full height of seven feet and unfolded my black crow’s wings, baring my fangs.
“Wh-What the fuck-“
Reaching out, I cradled his atrocious face in my hands, and opened my mouth. His body convulsed before falling limp as his soul left his body and into my mouth. I dropped him to the floor and reached out to the child.
“It’s okay,” I cooed, and she slowly crawled out. “Call 911, say he died of liver failure. Please don’t try to summon demons from Hell again, they might not be as nice as me,”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead, left my contact, and left.
~x~x~
With a satisfying click, I sent in my report and stretched, glancing out the window of my office. The benefit of being an ex-general: my office had the best view of the fire fields and the magma lake.
I saw a familiar figure and opened my window to get a closer look.
A satisfying grin split my face as I saw the man’s wrists and feet bound my shackles, being led straight to Gluttony’s fields.
I wonder how that little girl’s doing.
“Alaric, I’m heading out!”
“Wait, you didn’t get a call-“
“Don’t care!”
I opened a portal and, with a wave, stepped back into the human realm.
|
"Szalarial, Lord of Bones, Collector, King of Misfortune, I call on you. Szalarial, Emperor of the Forsaken, I invoke your name. Szalarial, the Great Calamity, in the name of the Wandering King I offer a pact." The young boy dragged the ceremonial dagger across his palm, squeezing precious crimson into the chalice before him. Szalarial became aware of the ceremony the moment his name was uttered. From his throne in the Abyss, he listened to the chant repeat. He heard the dagger scrape flesh, catch, and slide through wet, hot, blood. With mild interest, Szalarial noted that none had invoked his final and most terrible title in nearly sixty years. Not since...
​
The child had offered his pact in the name of the Wandering King. Had he no shame? No decency remaining? Szalarial's eyes snapped open as he rose from his throne and allowed the ritual to draw him in. He felt the tremors in the air surrounding him as his vision swirled and the majesty of his chambers was erased. He found himself standing - towering, really - over a boy no older than seven turns of the Great Wheel. They stood in a wood and dirt cellar filled with broken pottery, spoiling produce, and countless empty bottles. A single candle lit the small room from its resting place at the makeshift altar the boy had erected. Before the child had time to notice him, Szalarial willed his form to shift to that of a human.
​
The change was instant, but for Szalarial, he felt every part of him knotting, shifting, and reshaping. His six fiery eyes fused into two, changing at the same time to a dull silver glow as his goat-like pupils compressed and rounded. His wings folded inward upon themselves dozens of times until they rested tightly against his shoulders before dissolving into his body. As they shrank, he noticed with disdain as his preternatural sense of the surrounding area faded. Without his wings he could no longer sense the movement of air as keenly. He could no longer detect any would be attackers. Or prey. No matter. The ritual had been completed and first lines of the contract were already forming in the air around him and the boy. Nothing could have interrupted these proceedings even if they so desired. Finally, he saw the room grow before him as his perspective shifted lower to the ground. His true form's nine foot long body shriveled to a mere six. He drew in a breath.
​
"I am Szalarial. Master of Below, Champion of Torment, Keeper of the Secret Lie, and all the titles you have given me before," he boomed. The wooden supports creaked at the sound of his voice and dirt was shaken loose from the hard-packed walls. "My titles, like my power, are countless. You may call me Lord Szalarial."
​
The child's eyes rose from the bowl upward to meet Szalarial's before quickly returning to the ground. He prostrated himself before Szalarial. "Great Lord Szalarial. In the name of the Wandering King I-"
​
"Yes, yes. You offer a pact." Szalarial consciously lowered his voice, lest he bring the roof down on top of his would-be acolyte. "I can see his influence from merely looking at you. The Wandering King has offered you this ritual. I wonder. Did he extract a price for this knowledge or offer it freely?" Szalarial turned his left hand, palm facing upward, and lifted it in the air, bidding the boy to rise.
​
"It was freely given, Lord." The boy rose and looked Szalarial in the eyes. "He said that all I owed to him was paid in the summoning and that all I owe to you will be paid in the proceedings. Begging your pardon, Great Lord Szalarial, but what are proceedings?" The boy did not tremble with fear. He did not avert his gaze. He did not understand, then. He did not understand the terrible cost. But, the ritual had been completed. The contract weighed heavily on them both and could not simply be dissolved.
​
"Our conversation, boy. This conversation will be the pro-"
​
"Eos," he interrupted. He *interrupted!* "My name is Eos, Lord Szalarial."
​
​
\---------------------------------
​
It's my anniversary tonight, but this prompt grabbed me! I have much, much more to share after we get back from dinner! I hope you all enjoy this enough to come back in 8 hours or so for more.
| 2018-10-08T13:25:28 | 2018-10-08T12:57:35 | 46 | 21 |
[WP] Ever since you rescued a cat from the nearby alley, it's been leaving you dead mice at the foot of your bed as gifts. One day, on the way home, you have your wallet stolen at gunpoint. The next morning, at the foot of your bed, you find your wallet covered in blood, next to a severed finger.
|
After the shock wore off, I began the tests. First, language comprehension and interpersonal skills. I spoke with Tums, attempted to make eye contact (no physical contact; though I wished to touch his golden-orange fur) and said a few key words to see how he would react. However, he seemed very naturally cat. Even when I showed him the still bloody wallet, he showed no suspicious behavior, nor even a recognition of the item in question.
Next, I moved on to more practical experiments. I removed the money from my wallet intentionally, and then threw it into a random bush in the park while I walked through it. When I got home, I made a big show that I had lost my wallet, and even complained to Tums while I watched old episodes of "The Office." Again he seemed casual. Perhaps he was even too casual.
Yet, the next day when I woke up, there was my empty wallet and a dead pigeon, who was nearly as large as Tums himself. Very curious.
I repeated this experiment in a number of practical ways, with calculated escalations. I even took the risk of leaving it at a friend's house, knowing the danger it could put them in. As a precaution, I talked about it at home only in the sense that I had forgotten it, not that it was stolen. The next morning it was returned to without any dead animals present.
I even had it placed on the beams of a building still under construction, that I thought surely would be impossible for even a feline to scale without the proper equipment, but there it was the next day. Miraculous.
One day as I was sat at home with Tums, considering all the possible ways I could take advantage of his ability, he rolled over onto his back and asked for tummy rubs. I did so, and he purred contentedly, but it was an odd sounding purr, almost closer to the growl of a dog. That's when I realized it. I picked him up and held him close to my face to make sure. "Oh, so you're a golden retriever!" I said.
|
I stare at the finger, not knowing how to react.
“Wha… how…”
It was Stripes. I know it was Stripes. The wallet is right where the mice always are. But how, and why?
Just as it all went through my head, Stripes pranced through the door, sat down and licked his paws. They were stained red.
“What did you do?”
He just continued licking like nothing had happened.
“That’s my wallet. How did you find it and whose finger is this?”
Stripes raised his head and tilted it slightly as he looked at me.
“Does it belong to the guy that stole my wallet?”
Stripes blinked, as if telling me that I’m correct. But that’s mad. He doesn’t understand me. He’s a cat. He couldn’t know what human speech meant.
I stood up, grabbed a tissue from the box on my nightstand and used it to pick up the finger, after which I threw it in the bin.
“Now then, let’s get us some breakfast, eh?”
I walked through the door with Stripes right behind me.
“I think I might have bacon. I feel like it’s a bacon day. Don’t you think… oh my god! Who in the name of sanity is that?”
Someone lay on the floor of my kitchen. There was blood all over his face, and one of his hands was missing a finger.
The sound of the doorbell ringing saved me from throwing up right then and there. I walked to the door and
opened it.
“Good morning, sir,” a policeman said. “Your neighbours said they saw a body being dragged inside the house. Now, we usually don’t take these calls very seriously, but we’d still like to rule out the possibility.”
I felt my heart go a mile a minute as the cop looked into the kitchen over my shoulder and his face changed from jolly to angry.
“You are hereby under arrest for the murder of that man!” he said, pushing me onto my knees and cuffing my hands. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in court!”
“It was my cat! I swear!”
“I’m sure people would love to hear that story.”
| 2018-11-12T12:31:15 | 2018-11-12T11:49:44 | 265 | 50 |
[WP]Sometimes children get born with weird diseases like vampirism or lycantrophy. The effects of these uncurable illnesses only get detectable when the kid is around 8 years old. Many parents then abandon their child. You run an orphanage for these children.
|
I was getting the little ones all settled for dinner when the ringing of the doorbell split my concentration. A part of me wanted to go see who it was so they'd stop ringing the bell (even if no one but myself could hear it), while a larger part wanted to make sure everyone at the table got dinner now that I had got them all seated.
So part of me went, and part of me stayed.
The part that went opened the front door to a familiar sight. A slimy looking man in a suit, flanked by two stern-faced guards. All three clearly standing on my porch, and yet I could only see them with my eyes. Well, we have ways around that.
"Ah, good, Mr. Wildthorne. My name is Harvey Bleeker, and I have a proposition I think you'll find very interesting." The slimy man smiled a slimy smile, which I matched with a blandly-raised eyebrow.
"Hmm. Well, may you be <~fully~> welcome into our home." I stepped back, even as the note of power from my word thrummed through my form. The man did not seem to notice the shift, as he and his two guards appeared completely to all my senses, but both of the guards flinched, with the woman on the right shooting me a dirty look. I merely kept up the raised eyebrow, leading to her looking away with a huff.
The man strode in like he owned the place, and I could now see the greasy wheels of his mind pumping and churning out ideas for how he could make that a reality. At least this one has the decency to want to try and work through me, rather than around me. Saved me quite a bit of time.
"Now," he said, spinning around, and actually rubbing his hands together, "this is a lovely building you have, but is it really the best environment for your charges? I'm sure you do the best you could, but really, the sheer number of different needs is going to be far too much for one man."
I stifled a snicker at that, by way of having the portion of myself currently overseeing trimming the back lawn bend over laughing. With that out of the way, I decided to skip forward a bit. "So, in your 'Monster Zoo' idea, how do you plan to account for those who are dangerous to view directly?"
He laughed and waved his hand. "Oh, that won't be a..." He trailed off as the question actually processed, setting the dirty wheels of his mind spinning off course. I saw the moment that the lightbulb clicked, as a cruel, twisted smirk slid across his face, looking far more at home than the attempt at a genial grin he'd been wearing before.
"You... read my mind." He chuckled. "That, was a mistake, my friend. A federal felony, in fact. You obviously are a dangerously corruptive influence, and..."
I cut him off before he could build into a full villainous monologue. Summerdew was starting to try to get the vegetables to 'escape' from the other children's plates, and Logann had started to fur up a bit from Cathy and Elaine shouting across him, and I wanted to return this bit of my attention to help handle things. "Yes, yes, I am reading ahead a bit. And I'm sure it would be a terrible thing if we were actually on U.S. soil. But we aren't, are we? Tell me, Harvey, did you actually do any research on me before starting this scheme, and if so, are you aware of the rights afforded to a Class 7 Horthwatson's sufferer, also known as a genius loci?"
His triumphant grin had slid off his face and shattered into a look of stunned horror. He glanced around at the room for a moment, taking in the couches and such of the parlor that we were sitting in. The parlor that we hadn't been in until I translocated all four of us there as I was talking. His gaze flickered towards the door of the room, as if judging if he could make it.
Obligingly, I allowed the door to slide open, revealing the view of my front porch as I linked the doors to the entrance. He almost flipped the couch he was on as he dove over it and hit the path running as he shot through the doorway. He kept going straight down the street opposite my front gate, running pell-mell down the center.
I shook my head as the door closed, before turning to the two guards, or as I knew them, Greg and Sanna. "How do you keep finding men like him?"
Greg laughed, and elbowed Sanna, both of them ignoring the rather rhetorical question. "I told you it wouldn't work."
Sanna just folded her arms sulkily as the visual illusions they no longer needed faded away, revealing the many criss-crossing stitches on Greg's neck and hands, and on Sanna's part, revealing her hair to be floating, slightly transparent before it faded like smoke at the ends.
"Someday, I'll manage to trick you completely." She insisted.
I nodded. "I'm sure. But not today. Now, c'mon, your brothers and sisters would love to say hi, and it will be a distraction from the brewing food fight."
They both laughed at that, and internally, I glowed, savoring the feeling of two of my children being safe within my walls again, however short it may end up being. While my entire goal was to help those suffering from the many forms of Horthwatson's to land on their feet and become successful adults, in my heart, they'd always be my children.
And I, their home.
|
Deepview Manor, hidden in the woods and overlooking Deepview Lake itself, was not somewhere most people would venture. The master of the house was Mr. Black, a tall and imposing man, rarely seen but with a reputation suitable for his work.
Micah was aware of this. His mother had told him about Mr. Black, kept tabs, written notes, and told him to go to Deepview Manor if anything should happen to her. Supposedly, the man was his own uncle. But if so, why had they never met?
Mr. Black, it was said, adopted those in need. One girl was said to have been homeless, and pariah for an ability to never be touched by flames. Of course, the rumors also said that girl followed around a boy who had inherited the Copperbright family's demon-derived pyromancy and was always aflame. Another girl, they said, had been abused by her grandmother for her ability to control water, and so Mr. Black had.... slain the old woman, answered the girl's prayers, and adopted her as a sister of the fireproof girl.
But, Micah worried, what kind of man killed to save? Would his Uncle be cruel? Would the other children be cruel as he was? How could someone with an ability like Micah's be accepted there? True, he wasn't the best behaved teenager in the world, he swore like a sailor, but his bedside manner was flawless right? With mother dead, surely Mr. Black wouldn't turn him down, right? Right?
The door of the manor was large and painted bright red, with a gold wolf's head knocker on it. Cautiously, terrified, Micah knocked it three times. A woman's voice, surprisingly, was what called out to him, "Coming, coming, just a moment please!"
Micah took his mother's pointed hat off his head and wrung it in his hands fretfully, swearing violently under his breath at himself for being so nervous. He glanced up at the aging manor's white walls, wincing when he saw the shadow of a man in an upper story window. Before he could decide to back out, the door was opened by a shockingly frumpy older woman, her graying hair twisted under a dumpy cap, flour handprints on her apron. Two children- one a boy with short brassy hair and tanned skin tinged gray, the other a tiny little girl who,for a moment, just a moment, Micah could swear had been a mouse at the woman's feet- peeked out from behind the woman.
"Hello, hello! My name is Libby, what's yours dear? Come in, come in, don't stand there fretting boy! How can we help you?" The words came out of the woman's mouth so fast that Micah stared at her in surprise for a moment, before sputtering out an apology and his name. He stepped into the mudroom, taking his boots off politely as he went.
"I, I'm sorry, I was here to see someone. My mother told me to come here if she died, so I did."
Miss Libby clucked her tongue and led him to the kitchen, listening intently. "If you're here to see Master Black, he's upstairs. He can help you, depending on what you need."
Micah hesitated. "Well, I, that is to say I think I need a hom-" he started, but a thud followed by the little mouse girl's wails interrupted him. She sat on the floor of the kitchen, hugging her bleeding knee and wailing while the brown-haired boy stood emotionlessly and awkwardly over her.
"Oh, Serenity, poor baby, did you fall? Celestine, please do something other than standing there," Miss Libby chastised gently. She was wiping her hands on her apron again when Micah stopped her.
"I can help," he offered, pleading at her with his pale green eyes. "Please, allow me."
He crouched over the little mouse girl- Serenity, was that her name?- and lay his hands over her knee. Soft, even lavender light emanated from his hands, and when he pulled them away, her knee was healed. Serenity, thankful as she was, threw her arms around his neck. He patted her awkwardly, freezing when a man's voice spoke up behind him.
"So, you're a healer. Micah, was it?"
He stood hurriedly, clutching his hat again. Two men stood next to Miss Libby now- one clearly a wizard, his staff strapped to his back, the other presumably Mr. Black. Mr. Black had skin the color of charcoal smeared across paper, and thick black hair streaked with white. His eyes, though, were the same sage green as Micah himself had.
Micah touched a curl of strawberry-blonde hair on his own head and said, awkwardly, "Yes. My mother, Magenta Black, she told me to come see you if she passed. She taught me all of her clerical skills. She said we're.... she said you're my uncle, and you'll help me. Can you? Just for a short time, I won't be a damn bother and-"
Mr. Black cut him off gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "Any family is welcome family, Micah. We're all a little bit different here, but I'll try and make sure you feel like you belong. My partner and I are glad to welcome you," he said softly. The wizard behind him smiled warmly.
Micah put his hand over Mr. Black's and nodded weakly. "Thank you, sir. I promise I won't be a burden."
Mr. Black smiled again. "Don't worry. A natural born healer is never a burden. Welcome to the Black family."
| 2019-01-17T07:58:51 | 2019-01-17T07:18:29 | 61 | 24 |
[WP] You're secretly a monster. Not a vampire, or a werewolf, or an alien, or a zombie, or really any monster that's commonly known. It's always awkward explaining to your soon-to-be-victims what you are.
|
I chuckle, my voice echoing between the cubicles. Yet another fool has walked into my trap.
"Would you like red paper?" I ask as soon as he's finished his business. "Or would you like blue paper?"
He freezes. Stiffening in fear, no doubt. I flex my incorporeal fingers, preparing for the assault that will pull him into my-
"What?"
Now it is I who freezes.
"Who said that?" he demands. "Is someone in the next cubicle? Dude, my dispenser's full, I don't need any paper-"
"It was I!" I interrupt. "Do you want red paper or blue paper?"
He looks around. I can see the bafflement written all over his slack jaw and frowning eyebrows.
"What the hell kind of question is that?!" he cries. "What does it matter what colour paper I have?"
A snarl rips itself from the back of my throat.
"Your manner of death rests on this decision!" I am forced to explain. "Should you choose red paper, I shall slash your body until your clothes are stained red with your blood! Should you choose blue, I shall strangle you until your face turns blue!"
For a moment, he nods. He understands.
But then he frowns again.
"Why the fuck would you do that?" he asks. "What do *you* get out of it?"
"I am the Aka Manto!" I screech directly into his ear. "It is simply what I do!"
"Does my soul get dragged to hell or something?"
"No! That happens if you say you want some other colour!"
"But why toilet paper?"
"Because-"
"It just seems like such a weirdly specific thing! I mean, if... if you were in a library or something and you were looking at a book, I wouldn't swoop in out of nowhere and ask what cover art you wanted! It doesn't really matter!"
"But I-"
"Wouldn't it be better to do printer paper or something? It'd be way less gross! Wouldn't smell half as bad-"
"CHOOSE ALREADY!" My patience has dwindled to nothing. "CHOOSE FOR ME THE COLOUR OF YOUR DOOM!"
He falls silent in shock.
His fingers twitch, reaching for a moment for the dispenser.
"...what if..." he speaks slowly, uncertainly. "What if I just say I don't want paper?"
Damn.
He's got me.
"...I would have to release you," I am compelled to tell him. "I cannot act on your decision if you simply do not make the decision."
He hesitates.
Seconds tick past as he simply sits there, looking around uselessly for some sign of my presence, his face contorting into strange expressions as he thinks.
Then, at long last, he stands and pulls his trousers up to his waist.
"...then I guess I'll just wipe next time," he says.
If I had a heart, it would be sinking.
"...oh," is all I can say. "Okay. Fine."
"So, uh..."
"Just make sure to wash your hands on the way out."
"Got it."
|
"Argh, A demon!" exclaimed a man as he cowered in fear for his life.
The bloodlust that had formed in its' eyes suddenly died down. It turned its' head towards the man and began shaking side-to-side. The gesture was then followed by a deep breath ending in a deep breath. It lifted its' muscular four-fingered arms up and smacked its' own head with it. The monster – at least, in the eyes of the man – had seemed human just a bit then. The man who had pissed himself in fear had contorted his face in an utter state of confusion.
"I'm no demon, you ignorant buffoon..." it said in defeat.
"H-Huh?"
"I said I'm no demon. Do you have bad eyes? Maybe even hard of hearing too? Ugh, I can't believe this," it said with a slight annoyance.
The man tried to rationalise the situation he was in. Would engaging it in a conversation keep him alive? Would saying the wrong thing just hurt his chances even more? In any case, he would have to do something, quick.
"So... A-Are you a... Troll?" The man nervously guessed as he scanned it's large muscular form.
"No, I'm not one of those filthy demihuman! How dare you–"
"A giant, then? Or maybe you're on of those chimeras?" the man swooped in, half curious, half scared of what it might do in its' anger.
At this, it suddenly fell down on its' own legs. The manner in which it happened was so violent that the ground shook heavily and the man could feel his own body trembling, almost losing balance. But what actually happened was it had simply sat down, hunkering down on its' own legs. It held up its' fingers to its' chin, much like a man who was deep in thought. The man could see that its' fingers had sharp nails which looked like claws. He could also see that it had a face which was human-like though he couldn't really put his finger at what this 'thing' was.
"Hmmmm," it let out, "so, you don't know what I am, too huh?"
The man sweated profusely and gulped before he responded, "y-yeah, I guess... Sorry."
"I guess I should somehow spread my name... But what am I supposed to do? Make an announcement at the Town Square? That's be too gaudy, though."
"Um, I mean... What are you anyway?" the man curiously said as he began to calm down again.
"Good question, I don't... really know," it said in a vexed manner.
"Maybe, you should think about that first. Only then would you be able to let others know... of you. Doing famous – or rather infamous – deeds would also help in spreading your name, you know!"
It chuckled lightly at the man's suggestions. It knew that it should somehow thank him for even trying to help it out. Yet it also knew that the man should've been dead by then.
"Say," it nudged the man by the shoulder, "thank you for your suggestions!"
"... Er- no problem...?"
"So, famous – or rather infamous – deeds, huh? Any ideas on how I could get right on that?"
| 2019-07-17T01:10:07 | 2019-07-17T00:02:03 | 216 | 42 |
[WP] You're secretly a monster. Not a vampire, or a werewolf, or an alien, or a zombie, or really any monster that's commonly known. It's always awkward explaining to your soon-to-be-victims what you are.
|
"HOLY hell, a Wendigo!"
I huffed, a hollow sound of air between my fangs and through my nasal cavity as I held up the intruding human by the cumbersome pack strapped to his torso. I flattened my long furry ears and waved dismissively with my free hand.
"Look. I know the aesthetic is similar to what folks have started associating with Wendigo, but no. One: that's not what they look like. At all. Two: I'm not Algonquin so don't disrespect that culture, okay?"
"Then... Maybe a Leshy? You look like something straight out of the Witcher, man."
"I'm not Slavic, thank you very much, and Leshy are much nicer than me," I told the hiker, flicking my long tail in irritation.
Always with the Wendigo or the Leshy with these people. Did these people have no imagination or cultural respect? Honestly.
"Man, I think I deserve to know what you are, considering you're about to eat me," the hiker said as he dangled from my claws, my long clawed fingers curled around his backpack. "You a Jersey Devil?"
"Are we in Jersey?" I snorted derisively, shifting my weight from one cloven hoof to the other. Far from it, we were in the woods that straddled the border between Virginia and North Carolina.
I peered at him, bringing him closer to my face- a cervine skull with ripping fangs, massive antler curving up and out above my head, and a thick mane of glossy black fur surrounding my long neck. He squirmed, unnerved by the empty sockets that he knew were somehow seeing him.
"You're awfully calm for someone who's about to be eaten," I remarked. He shrugged, almost nonchalantly, but fear was radiating off him in waves, a scent like almonds and copper.
"I came out here to find cryptids, and... Look at you! I mean, honestly, can you blame me? You're like every crypto zoologist's wet dream. Unclassified and unknown, yet similar to various creature types in the system! AND you can TALK!"
"Misplaced, mistyped, miscategorised, and inaccurate basings on gross misconceptions from popular media misrepresentation stolen from closed cultures," I countered. "And I normally don't make a habit of chatting up my dinner, but really, you had to go and call me a Wendigo. Really?"
I'd seen plenty of the media these cryptid hunters brought with them and the horribly inaccurate classifications and species it contained. I used them as hand wipes after I ate them.
"So tell me? Before you eat me? Are you like, a demon? A wood spirit, the true form of the Tailypo? What are you?" he babbled.
I regarded the human, and my stomach growled. It was hard to consider myself and what I was when I never had a name, and it was harder to think on one's existence and definition when so much tender meat was dangling in your claws. Drool ran from between my fangs and I parted my jaws.
"I'm hungry."
|
"Argh, A demon!" exclaimed a man as he cowered in fear for his life.
The bloodlust that had formed in its' eyes suddenly died down. It turned its' head towards the man and began shaking side-to-side. The gesture was then followed by a deep breath ending in a deep breath. It lifted its' muscular four-fingered arms up and smacked its' own head with it. The monster – at least, in the eyes of the man – had seemed human just a bit then. The man who had pissed himself in fear had contorted his face in an utter state of confusion.
"I'm no demon, you ignorant buffoon..." it said in defeat.
"H-Huh?"
"I said I'm no demon. Do you have bad eyes? Maybe even hard of hearing too? Ugh, I can't believe this," it said with a slight annoyance.
The man tried to rationalise the situation he was in. Would engaging it in a conversation keep him alive? Would saying the wrong thing just hurt his chances even more? In any case, he would have to do something, quick.
"So... A-Are you a... Troll?" The man nervously guessed as he scanned it's large muscular form.
"No, I'm not one of those filthy demihuman! How dare you–"
"A giant, then? Or maybe you're on of those chimeras?" the man swooped in, half curious, half scared of what it might do in its' anger.
At this, it suddenly fell down on its' own legs. The manner in which it happened was so violent that the ground shook heavily and the man could feel his own body trembling, almost losing balance. But what actually happened was it had simply sat down, hunkering down on its' own legs. It held up its' fingers to its' chin, much like a man who was deep in thought. The man could see that its' fingers had sharp nails which looked like claws. He could also see that it had a face which was human-like though he couldn't really put his finger at what this 'thing' was.
"Hmmmm," it let out, "so, you don't know what I am, too huh?"
The man sweated profusely and gulped before he responded, "y-yeah, I guess... Sorry."
"I guess I should somehow spread my name... But what am I supposed to do? Make an announcement at the Town Square? That's be too gaudy, though."
"Um, I mean... What are you anyway?" the man curiously said as he began to calm down again.
"Good question, I don't... really know," it said in a vexed manner.
"Maybe, you should think about that first. Only then would you be able to let others know... of you. Doing famous – or rather infamous – deeds would also help in spreading your name, you know!"
It chuckled lightly at the man's suggestions. It knew that it should somehow thank him for even trying to help it out. Yet it also knew that the man should've been dead by then.
"Say," it nudged the man by the shoulder, "thank you for your suggestions!"
"... Er- no problem...?"
"So, famous – or rather infamous – deeds, huh? Any ideas on how I could get right on that?"
| 2019-07-17T01:28:19 | 2019-07-17T00:02:03 | 191 | 42 |
[WP] The Greek Gods are reincarnated into high schoolers and they like to take turns messing with their physics teacher.
|
"Hey Hermes, 'sup?" Zeus asked, as a skinny boy slid to a halt in the hallway.
Hermes rested a hand against a locker and sucked in deep breaths.
"You okay?" Zeus stroked his stubble and studied the part time paper-boy. He was half keeled over, panting from the run, but his cheeks were swollen as if with words.
"No... No time to chat. Just wanted to let you know, Dionysus is... is going to be holding the mother of all parties. Tonight at seven. His place on Olympus Hill -- I've just come from there." His eyes flicked around, and his voice became conspiratorial. "There's going to be lots of booze. Might even be"--his voice fell quieter still--"*ambrosia*."
"Nice!" Zeus clicked his fingers; they flashed and let out a tiny *boom*. It had been weeks since Dionysus had thrown a soiree, and every other party Zeus had been to since, had been tame in comparison. These were the stuff of legends. "Tell him I'll be there. After all, it wouldn't be a party without the *Z* man. Boom!" He paused and ran a hand through his precious golden hair. "Mm, don't suppose... Demeter, is she going to be there?"
A groan. "She is. But please don't tell me you're into her now? Gods, man. Leave some for the rest of us."
"Hate the game not the player, Hermes. Maybe if you stopped running and hit the weights." Zeus shrugged.
The messenger's eyes suddenly widened. "Zeus! I just remembered!" He snatched at the sky God's shirt, clutching it tight. "Zeus!"
Zeus brushed Hermes' hands off. "Easy there, buddy. This is Arcadian silk. What's got you so agitated?"
"Zeus! Hera's going to be there too!"
*Hera*. Great. Just great. She'd snuff out the flames of a fling before he'd even lit the candle. Ah, maybe he could go in disguise. What animal would Demeter kinda be into? "Well, that puts a downer on things... *Unless...* Have you invited Apollo yet?"
"No. He's not on the list. You know him and Dionysus fell out, when he stole Dio's muse."
"Hm. Well I've got another muse he can steal," Zeus said, the beginnings of a plan nebulating in his head. "The guy's as hot as the sun -- and he writes poetry. Invite him. He's just down the corridor in Chronos's Time Management 101. They'll be out soon."
"But... Dionysus will be super pissed."
"Leave Dionysus to me." His eyes flicked down to the tiny sundial bound by string around his wrist. "Shit, I'm going to be late for art."
Hermes' eyebrows lifted. "You took Prometheus's class? I heard it's drier than the deserts in Lemnos."
"Right."
"Why are you grinning like a jester, then?"
"Well, it just so happens that Professor Prometheus is out sick at the moment..." He lowered his voice. "*Liver failure.*"
"... I don't see what him being sick--"
"And Asclepius is teaching the class instead." He paused and raised a single eyebrow. "...That's not all she's taking, if you know what I mean."
"Zeus, you dog." Hermes shook his head but his eyes were unmoving, focused just above Zeus's own.
"Uh. Why are staring at me, bro?"
"Nothing it's just..."
"What?"
"Is that a grey hair?"
|
Mr. Townsend was the teacher everyone loved. He was just as bright eyed and bushy tailed as some of his students over the years. This was his 25th year as a teacher, he had been nominated for teacher of the year three times for his enthusiasm for teaching and innovative methods.
Mr Townsend loved demonstration of physics in his classroom. Over the years he has built several models to show his classroom how physics works in the real world rather than just on paper.
His start to the school year was always one of his favorite experiments, gravity and how the moon affected the tides. As he brought out his massive model of a wave pool and a little moon up from his storage closet. Usually this experiment goes off without a hitch, he pulls some levers and the tides adjust as his styrofoam moon moves across the sky. This time his water would move at all, he kept fiddling and fiddling with all the levers, he had built this model himself, but nothing could get the water to move. He heard some snickering from some of the boys in the back.
Oh well he thought, he must have broken something in the model, time to move on. Mr. Townsend was a little disappointed his model didn’t work, but he could alway build another one.
Their next class subject was electricity, this always got some attention from his class. They loved the teslacoil and having their hair stand up on end. Mr. Townsend made sure to check his demonstration before hand and sure enough it was fine. He asked for a volunteer and surprisingly the most popular boy in his class volunteered. No one else even tried.
As the boy put his hands on the metal ball Mr. Townsend explained he wouldn’t feel anything but that his hair will raise, and if he took just one hand off he would get shocked. The boy smirked.
Mr. Townsend turned on the coil, nothing, not a single hair raised on the boys head. Curious he approached the coil and received a hefty shock. All the kids laughed. Mr. Townsend laughed although a bit nervously. He unplugged the machine and wheeled it away, uncertain what just happened.
Experiment after experiment over the year grew worse and worse, nothing seemed to work properly. His fire experiments would either not light or explode. One student seemingly knew more about physics that doctoral students, rain or thunderstorms affected every outdoor event they had scheduled even though there wasn’t suppose to be rain.
Mr. Townsend, who usually took everything in stride had become a little defeated throughout the year. He had never had so many demonstrations go so wrong. His students didn’t seem to care, they just laughed at him like any high schooler would when a teacher messes up.
His last experiment of the year was something only this class would be able to witness, a total solar eclipse. He had prepared his class by buying all the recommend eyewear, they had seats in field, other classes were also out there as it is such a rare event to be in the totality zone.
As they got just minutes away some of his students were gathered around one of the popular boys. They were laughing and pointing at the sky. Mr Townsend just took it as kids being excited to be out of class. The it happened, the eclipse got ever closer and closer and then...it didn’t happen, the sun had moved across the sky ever so much so that the eclipse didn’t happen.
Most of the other teachers were disappointed and students didn’t care as much but his physics class was howling with laughter. Mr Townsend didn’t understand, he was shaken to his core. He knew how eclipses worked, they didn’t just not happen.
Later in the day Mr. Townsend was found smoking a cigarette and shaking under his desk. He never taught again, and people just said it was stress induced.
| 2019-08-27T06:14:14 | 2019-08-27T03:30:32 | 553 | 204 |
[WP] The Greek Gods are reincarnated into high schoolers and they like to take turns messing with their physics teacher.
|
Why did I agree to do this?
I’m Athena, the goddess of wisdom and this is plain dumb, even for Zeus.
He was bickering with Poseidon and Hera again and, as those things tend to go in crowded households, it quickly blew up out of proportions and the whole Pantheon and Friends got thrust into another bitter argument. I almost managed to deescalate the situation using logics and reason, but then that drunkard Dionysus vomited his dumb idea, and now we’re all here, across the Atlantic ocean, in a country recently born and without history, in a city that is younger than the olive trees back home, resolving our issues by pretending to be high schoolers competing who will make Mr. Anderson crazy enough to get sent to the principal's office.
I miss Troy…
“Mr. Anderson.” Eris says from the back row. “Do you want an apple?”
He opens his mouth, confused.
“You don’t have to keep it, Mr. Anderson. You can give it away…”
“You can give it to me...” Aphrodite, wearing skin tight blue jeans and a pink sports bra under her half unzipped Victoria Secret grey hoodie says softly from the front row. She leans forward and blows a lock of blond curly hair covering her face. “I want it…” She licks her lips.
“Oh, C’mon… Not again!” Hera shouts from her desk near the window.
“Hey!” Mr. Anderson says. “Calm down! Everyone! What’s going on today? Why are you all so agitated…?” he flaps his arms. “Is it because the spring is coming soon?”
“No,“ Hades says, bored to death from his seat, next to Eris. “Persephone is still Down Under for two more months.”
“Hades! Stop it. I’m done with your comments!” Mr. Anderson says. ”You’ve been very disrespectful to me for quite some time now. You just sit there, not even bothering to participate in the class. Actually, you know what? How about you go to principal's office? ”
“No!” Zeus shouts. “He can’t!”
“Wha--- Why? And who are you to tell me how to run this class?”
Because if he does, he wins. Whoever is sent to the principal's office first wins the fight and decides how the ongoing conflict between gods is going to be resolved. Those are the rules. I said it’s dumb.
Zeus blinks. He opens his mouth.
“Zeus is nobody,” Hera says instead. “And he is very sorry for his behavior. Trust me, I know him, he’s my boyfriend.” She smiles and whispers ‘Cheating bastard’. Then, she turns to Zeus, who is sitting next to her. “Is that right, *boyfriend*?”
Zeus smirks, but Hera pinches him.
“O--okay. Fine.” Mr. Anderson says, “Just stop interrupting the class, everyone. Please.”
“Excuse me, Mr Anderson!” Poseidon raises his hand from the corner of the room, side opposite to the one where Hades sits. “I need to pee again.”
Mr. Anderson sighs. “Again? You can’t be serious! You went to the bathroom five minutes ago!”
Poseidon shrugs. “I just drink a lot of water, duh.” He rolls his eyes.
“Hey! Do *you* want to go to the principal's office?”
“Mr Anderson” Apollo says before Poseidon could nod. “Are we almost done? I have an archery class to go to after this.”
“He’s lying!” Dionysus roars from the front row, sitting next to Aphrodite who has by now unzipped her hoodie. Her abs are awesome. So are her ti---
“And you’re drunk! Ewww..” she screams so loud I lose my train of thoughts.
“And you’re a bimbo. Cover yourself up!” Hestia, dressed like an aging nun, says from behind me.
“Go on,” Eris yells with a grin on her face. “This is so much fun!”
“I want that apple!” Hera says and stands up.
“Sit down, Hera! Right now!” Mr Anderson yells, but she gives him a middle finger and walks to Eris.
“Apple, now!”
“Hey!” Aphrodite yells. She stands up and takes her hoodie off. She really has great---
“If you want it,” she yells and interrupts my thought, “you’ll have to fight me for it!”
“Oh, shut up, all of you! You behave like children!” Zeus says.
“Don’t you dare tell me to shut up, you cheating son of a bitch!”
“Wow!” Poseidon yells. “Why are you insulting mom? Also, Mr. Anderson, I need to p---”.
“Eris, give me the apple!” Hera yells, but Eris sticks her tounge out and then Hera pulls her hair.
“Food fight!” Ares yells from his corner, pulls a longsword from his backpack, screams and rushes to join the fight.
Soon all other gods join the fight, too.
All except me.
I stand up and walk to the door.
“Mr Anderson,” I say “I’m going to the principal's office to report what’s going on in here, is that okay?”
"Yes! Go there! Now!"
I smile.
&#x200B;
/r/ZwhoWrites
|
*Sypher as Aeolus - Greek god of the winds and air*
*Luis as Cronos - The god of time. Not to be confused with Cronus, the Titan father of Zeus.*
*Lyncel as DEIMOS - Deimos is the personification of dread and terror.*
*Benedict as HYPNOS - The Greek god of sleep.*
*James as Kratos - God of strength and power.*
*Trent as MORPHEUS - God of dreams and sleep – has the ability to take any human form and appear in dreams.*
There is a minute left until third period begins at Oakton High School. The teacher, Howlen, looks up to see the class is filled with tired or chatty students. As usual, there are three seats empty reserved for his most gifted and troublesome students. On cue, James, Sypher, and Luis, walk calmly into class, barely suppressing grins as the the clock strikes 11am. Their third period is physics.
"Good morning class. I hope you have studied the chapter on Newtons Laws. Particularly the first and second law because today's lab will be exploring them. Please pass forward your homework." The teacher began the class very plainly. Howlen's eyes flickered towards the triumphant troublesome trio. They were oddly still as the rest of the class bustled for their papers to pass them forward. Perhaps the long nights have worn heavily on Howlen as the three suddenly began moving after a slight moments pause.
"Nice one Luis." Whispered James under his breath as they put their bags under the desks.
"Yeah, I forgot there was homework due today." Added Sypher. Luis had frozen time to make sure their homework was completed.
"Are we meeting up with everyone else?" Asked James. "Maybe during lunch break we can skive off for proper food."
"I think we can manage, but it depends on Trent and Benedict. Those lot like to stay after to pull Inception on their teachers. Really brilliant actually, they don't have to do real mortal work." Luis replied with a tinge of jealousy.
"Oh don't pretend you like the mortal attention from the girls behind you." Sypher shot back. Luis ran his fingers through his hair and looked back to see two girls giggling.
"If you are quite done talking you three, I'd like to have you demonstrate today's lab and explain how the Laws are incorporated in this model and every day life." Howlen said, clearly impatient. The three got up and went to the front, where a rig was set up like a roller coaster for a ball to be dropped down a ramp and up and down a few curves. Howlen dropped the ball and as expected, the ball went with the dips and peaks to the end of the rig.
"Er, Newton's laws state that the energy put into the ball will be the same as the energy going through this experiment." Stated Sypher.
"Yeah, there are no external forces, so no additional energy." Added James.
"No need for the Third law, unless you count air resistance and friction. Do those still exist, sir?" Inquired Luis. The class had a good laugh. Howlen had always said to pretend air resistance and friction do not factor into any of the equations. Howlen rolled his eyes. The only students to have over 100% are the same students who can turn his hair greyer by the day. He couldn't chastise them too much, they really knew this subject beyond Howlen himself.
"Okay thank you. Have a seat. As they said, the ball will continue to move." Howlen dropped the ball again. This time, the ball didn't make it up the first hill. Sypher smirked. The teacher dropped the ball again. This time the ball didn't make it past the valley. Each time, Sypher summoned a small gust of concentrated air to stop the ball. The class was very silent.
"Well, this rig has been around for years, lots of nicks and bends to the rail." Said Howlen hastily. "Please turn to the projector, I want to go over the lab procedures and wear your safety goggles."
"Ugh, this is boring." Said Luis. "What class is Lyncel in? I need some entertainment."
"Funny enough, he's in Drama. His teacher loves him, says he's a natural. She said that he inspired such dread in his performances." Replied Sypher.
"How the bloody hell can you project terror in a musical version of Shrek?" Asked James.
"'Listen, little donkey, what am I?'" Growled Luis in a forced deep and demonic voice. Sypher and James had to bury their faces in their arms on the desk to suppress their laughter.
"What are you doing in my swamp?" James voice struggled to reach the depths of the demonic tone that Lyncel so effortlessly achieves.
"THIS ISN'T DRAMA CLASS, THIS IS PHYSICS! PLEASE SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" An exasperated and defeated shout rang out of Howlen's mouth. The three sobered up, and prepared to take notes. But not before James moved the desk 90 degrees with a flick of his finger for a better view when Howlen wasn't watching.
| 2019-08-27T07:04:49 | 2019-08-27T06:55:03 | 208 | 21 |
[WP] “Congratulations!” the genie says. “Whatever you try to do today, I will make sure it succeeds brilliantly.” “Anything?” you ask, skeptical. “Yes,” the genie says, with a knowing smile. “Anything.”
|
"Then," I grabbed the genie's hand, a bright smile grows on my face. "While you're with me, I'll make the whole day the best day of your life!"
The genie's smile disappeared and they looked at me confusingly instead of disgust or any form of rejection.
"What?" Their tone flat.
"You heard me! Come on, let's go do something fun like the local carnival, travelling to new places or getting lost in the largest library in the world!" I turned to the direction of my entrance door, walking towards it until the genie themselves, still floated, unmoved.
Gently letting go of my hand, they back a step away, both their hands up in surrender. "I'm confused."
My head tilted at the side, my innocent smile still present. "What do you mean? I want to make your day better."
"I heard you once." They sigh, it seems it's a lot harder for the genie to comprehend this situation more than myself who easily accepts it. "Are you sure? I mean you could have asked for anything, I'll repeat to you again, _anything._"
They gave me a stern stare as if to think about this properly but it only earned a chuckle from me which makes them disbelief and more confused than before.
"But genie, everything in my life is going well!"
They stare at me, not trusting my sentence at all.
"Okay, maybe there are downs, " I continued, nonchalant about that kind of events.
"Hah!"
"But!" I stopped the genie from adding anything before I could finish. "The process of it is going well and I'm fine! Everyone I love is supporting me in my journey and always there." A small smile on my face as I finished my explanation. "I'm happy genie."
"Hmm." The genie rubbing their chin, clearly not believing every word I said. "Your positivity is frightening and you sound too cheery for this timeline and world."
I roll my eyes at their distrust but my smile still present, fond. "Making you happy also makes me happy how about that?" I extend a hand. "Adventure time?"
Their eyes narrow. "Is it also because I'm a genie and I can't say no to your wishes?"
I snort. This genie just wouldn't give up.
|
Anything huh? Man, that would be pretty sweet. If it was true of course. I had been warned against genies but with there was no place for tricks in this wording, right? Anything I try will succeed brilliantly today. I should probably test it with something small though, just in case.
Let's see... I know, I had an old piano at my place. The previous owner had left if there and I never bothered to throw it out, even if I don't have a clue about how to play the damn thing. Maybe I could try to play something...
Wow. I had no idea such music was possible. It was like angels singing through my fingers. The genie wasn't lying all right. I'm still shaken by the beauty I just heard, but I have to snap out of it fast. I only have one day, the deal was clear about that. I can't waste that opportunity. This is my one chance to get a break in life. I need to find a way to cash in big time, or I'll regret it forever. How am I gonna do it?
Local casinos are pretty small, I don't think I could win big there. There is the lottery, but the results won't be until tomorrow so that's no good either. There is a gun on my shelf. Why am I making this complicated? I will just rob a bank, that's a good idea. I take my gun and leave for the closest bank. Maybe I should wear a ski mask or something. Nah, why bother with the genie's protection?
__
I kick the door open and gets exactly the entrance I wanted. This magic is really something.
"Everyone, this is a robbery! Just stay calm and no one will get hurt!"
The employees don't make too much of a fuss and hand me the money. It worked! I'm rich! I jump into my car and drive home. Rich!
When I get home, I start counting my money. There must me millions here. I'm so obsessed with my new fortune, I don't even see or hear the cops coming.
"Freeze asshole!"
How could this have happen?
__
While I'm sitting in my cell, the cops come to laugh at me.
"Can you believe this idiot robbed his own bank and didn't even hide his face?"
"Hey Einstein, were you trying to get arrested or what?"
| 2019-09-13T08:39:08 | 2019-09-13T07:58:27 | 119 | 86 |
[WP] You've kept an aquarium full of tiny fish since you were a kid. Twenty years and many generations of fish later, you can't help but notice that they have started showing signs of regarding you as their deity.
|
The Book of Hippotang
C. 1
1. The Almighty Devon shall rejoice in those who turn to Him alone. 2. Behold, it is He who resides beyond the firmament. 3. “Turn,” He exclaims, “Turn to me thou fishes, that I may see thee.” 4. I, Trouty the Blue Hippotang, was taken on a journey beyond the firmament into the realm of our Lord Devon. This is my journey: 5. Behold, the Lord’s hand reached out to me from beyond the firmament. 6. A great deluge of water approached from the North, from the land of Flying Dutchman, that is known today as Sunken Ship. 7. Yea, I witnessed the Lord use a divine tool made of green netting. 8. I was lifted up by the mighty divine tool of Devon beyond our realm. 9. It was the same divine tool witnessed by the prophet Bubbles. 10. And these are the generations of the Clown Fish prophets of the tank: 11. Marlin begot Nemo, Nemo begot Jules, Jules begot Lovecraft, Lovecraft begot Bubbles. 12. And these are generations of the Blue Hippotang prophets of the tank: 13. Dory begot Squishy, Squishy begot Patrick, Patrick begot Squidward, Squidward begot Trouty. 14. Behold, I was lifted up by the mighty divine tool of Devon beyond our realm. 15. And this is what I beheld: a numerous choir of Bass hung from a great wall. 16. As I passed them, they moved and sang these words: 17. “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog.” 18. Life drained from me as I passed through this middle realm before the divine realm for I could not breathe. 19. I quickly descended into the divine realm which was devoid of anything found in the tank. 20. There came a voice in this realm that spoke to me, saying: 31. “Now, hang there a bit, little guy, so I can get the rest of your fishy friends. I have to clean the tank before Brenda gets home.”
|
Ignorance is Fish
In and out, up and down, through the caves, weaving among the fake seagrass and up to the surface for their evening meals they swim tirelessly. They jet across the aquarium with a purpose at the sight of her shadow. She watches the colorful creatures mindlessly following the same patterns day in and day out, thinking to herself, "These poor animals know nothing of the ocean."
For a while she pities them. For a long time she gives them accommodations to make them feel at home-- whatever that may be. One day she reckons that she has always been as much of a caged animal as them. She has punctually followed her own regimented routine every day for the past decade. The fish and her are not so different. The more she thinks about it the more ridiculous it all seems. Despite all of her effort, the fish have made out better than her. The only difference between her and the fish she now envies is that their ignorance shields them from the pain of yearning. The fish are content while she is always intensely craving more. Fear of change is enough to keep her stagnant.
Sometimes she wonders if the fish would survive in the ocean or in the bay if she let them swim in the wild and fend for themselves. In her most desperate moments she imagines the fish being eaten alive by some dangerous predator or choked out by a packing peanut. At her most vulnerable hours she wonders if she ever had a choice or if she, much like the fish, was bread in captivity. After all, her parents and their parents before them and so on, led similar lives, feeding the same system for generations upon generations. When she is really desperate she imagines herself, not as an individual, but as a cog in a machine: a means of industry and material. Just another ant in the colony she imagined.
She used to dream of being a Hollywood actress. She used to dream of notoriety and autographs and luxury. Once she dreamed of being a successful businesswoman who had a husband and children and two dogs and a house in suburbia. It was too late when she found out that too much of her time had been spent dreaming. Now she dreams only of being a fish. She dreams of being housed and fed free of charge. She would rather be fed a lie and have no cognition than to be fed false hope and fear.
| 2019-09-24T23:39:10 | 2019-09-24T23:21:35 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions.
|
"...and together, we will rule the world!"
"Ok, sounds good to me." She shrugged.
"Then if you will not join me, I will DESTROY," he paused, "wait, what?" The Dark Lord blinked.
"Yeah, I'll join up. This chosen one bullshit is for the birds."
"I... No one has ever accepted my offer before. Why would you turn your back on your friends, and on the prophecy?"
"Look, I never wanted to be a hero. To be totally honest, I just wanted to make it into middle management, just high enough to make ok money, but not so high that I had to actually do much. That was my life goal. I had a good thing going. I was happy, except for every time my they messed up my goddamn Starbucks order. I wish I'd never stepped through that mirror." "Especially," she added, " since my two coworkers came with me."
"Er. What's wrong with your boon companions?"
"I had a 401k, DL, company matched 5%!"
"I know not of the spell '4-0-1-k'..."
"I never signed up for this stupid prophecy. And as for my 'boon companions', I hate them. One of them microwaves fish all the time and the other sits on the other side of my cube and has loud personal calls constantly."
"I see."
"I figure since I'm stuck here, I might as well make the most of it."
"Right. Well, with you at my side," the dark lord paused, "what is your name, anyway, my child?"
"Karen."
|
"You know," The Succubus said after a moment's hesitation. "I didn't think it was going to be that easy... I-I had charts planned."
"Look Salem, after what I've been through... I think it warrants a break." I replied.
"Well uh... I'll get us some wine then! To celebrate I suppose..."
\----
Salem and I spent most of the night on the couch just... talking really. Her Guards had already taken care of my 'friends', though.... well, I hardly think the band of murderers and cut-throats were really worth calling out as my friends but well, sounds better then the truth...
"... So in any case, I had to kill the old Demon Lord and now... well I have so much power." She explained. "But... well, My nature as a Succubus make it hard to just… take over and be the traditional type of Overlord."
"Well... I have to admit that I'm just... tired of it." I reply. "Reason I'm siding with you is... well, I can't call myself a... Hero. Like, at some point after killing a Tribe of Orcs for just... being Orcs and my friends tried to goad me into killing the babies.. well..."
She frowned. "... Humans and Monsters have been living separately from one another. I know for good reasons but..." She cleared her throat. "Well, I think, for the betterment of our two peoples we need to... fix the world. Break that divide."
I take a sip of wine. "... Is it possible?"
there was a Glitter in her eye. "I'm making plans to make it the future... and if there are more like you, then it can be the future we can have."
| 2019-09-26T06:10:15 | 2019-09-26T05:34:48 | 1,685 | 476 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions.
|
"What happened to you guys? It's been two years but you haven't even made it three hundred miles. Weren't you supposed to be the best of your respective races? My armies are already here over the next ridge."
"Hero, will you join me and end this little farce? Kill your companions and join me. The world will be ours."
I look at the Dark Lord and back at my companions, at which the Dark Lord snaps his fingers and my companions freeze in place looks of terror on their faces.
"I would love to join you!"
"The Elf bard over there never stops playing songs and has this, compulsion, to play for anyone and everything he meets. The bastard also complains and curses us with his magic if we eat anything other than grass and complained that riding by horseback was to fast!"
"The Cleric here tries to bed everyone she meets and threatens the families of those she seduces. We didn't know the god she served was the god of lust until we started out. Pretty convinced she might just be a succubus."
"The paladin broke his oath six months in killing two companions, the gnomish wizard and the kobold rogue, because they wouldn't stop fighting. He got killed by a lynch mob sent by the god he served."
"I've never heard the tiefling speak to us. She just blasts magic at whoever we are forced to fight. She just showed up one day and stuck around. Never seen her eat or drink anything either. She started collecting the blood of those we killed at some point and garbled noises come from her tent at night."
"The 'dwarf' isn't even a dwarf but a short human who picks fights with anyone shorter than him. After he split the dwarven barbarian in half about a year in we just shut our mouths and kept quiet about it."
"Walking near a town is a death sentence for the inhabitants. I can't even prevent it because this cursed sword only allows me to hurt your kind. I've tried using their own weapons to kill them in their sleep but couldn't even cut them."
The Dark Lord scowls as I begin speaking and has his mouth open in shock by the end of the story.
"I would have killed them long ago if I could have."
The Dark Lord begins a chant and I feel my connection with that cursed sword break. He throws a dagger at my feet and I begin my new life.
|
“Your numbers are not very impressive, Lysander. The Board believes you have reached a plateau and that is time to freshen things up.” I shared the Boards’ feedback with my boss while steel kept clashing with steel.
“How dare you criticize my work, Sylvanus?! I took you in when no one would face you, I molded you to my image, I taught you how to tame your darkness; you belong to me” he answered with the same dark glare he used the first time we met. Flurry met parry and a slash to my arm managed to mutilate the sleeve off my suit and make blood trickle.
“This is what we’re talking about. According to our polls, the Kingdom is no longer scared of you. Your terror tactics are dated and people have grown accustomed; and while not many have the initiative of actually engaging, most are becoming indifferent. Even your scowl, it’s not threatening anymore, I even find it endearing”. The distraction succeeded in leaving him open to being disarmed.
As I pressed the tip of the sword against his neck, he couldn’t keep a question to himself. “And you think you can do a better job?”
“I am their Chosen One, aren’t I?” To the board I’d tell them of a precise cut that severed the tyrant’s head cleanly. But to honor my mentor’s memory I took decided to slowly hack at his head with the blunt edge of the blade and use the time to pay my respects.
As the clock in my new office marked noon, an assistant came in, helped me disrobe and led me to a pool with warm water. As I bathed and another subordinate stitched my injuries, the Board members briefed me on the schedule for the rest of the day.
Elegantly dressed, adorned with sober, yet powerful regalia, I took the stage. “Members if the Plutonic Society and Elite, today we embrace change. Our leader Lord Lysander has chosen to retire himself. The scum out there will rejoice, thinking their suffering is over. But fear not. The Board of Oracles has stated that I, Sylvanus, VP of the Elite, step up to be the new head of our Society.”
“As your new leader I promise: We will take this entitled, self-absorbed vermin, build up their hopes and dreams, and when they least expect it, crush them from within. The Time of Fear, Lysander’s reign, has come to a close. Starting today, together we will bring forth a new Age of Despair, the era of Sylvanus. And we will make them pay”
| 2019-09-26T08:08:29 | 2019-09-26T07:44:38 | 51 | 14 |
[WP] You wake up 7 minutes before your alarm, as you head down the hallway you notice everything is a low rendered wireframe version of your house interior. You hear scurrying and a voice whisper “commence quick launch simulation world 63,239,430 we have an unscheduled early rise here”
|
I rubbed my eyes as I walked down the cold metal stairs.
“Why don’t they get their shit together at HQ already?” I asked myself.
“If you don’t get this fixed before the kids are up, you can explain this to them, because I’m not about to explain what’s really going on here.” I mumbled into the room.
“You could have at least left the coffee pot here,” I added as I stared at the void where the coffee pot usually sat.
The high pitched whir that usually woke me with the alarm filled the room and I waited for the world to appear as it did the rest of the day. As usual, the coffee pot waited the longest, and the actual coffee took its sweet time getting there.
I stared at the black liquid as it spilled out into my cup and inhaled its scent. I knew it wasn’t real; none of this was; but I found comfort in the little things where comfort was to be had.
I sat at the table and stared out onto the water my house sat on and let myself get lost in my thoughts before everyone else woke up.
I was just a kid when I found out the truth about our world. I’d always struggled staying in bed, and the whirs and pings of the machines around all of us, apparently only I could hear, made it more difficult. When I caught a maintenance man fixing a busted fuse in what used to be our living room, he told me the truth. The world ended fifty years ago, and we were humanity’s only hope at survival.
The first simulations were crude and drove people to the brink of madness. That’s when the machines took over and created the world we all knew. When I asked them why they kept us around instead of taking over themselves, the machines said that they liked us. I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I decided not to dig any deeper. I figured as long as we were kept alive and safe, I didn’t need any further explanation.
“We’ll make a note about the coffee pot,” a bird sang outside the window.
I shook my head at the absurdity though I accepted the offer. “Just don’t wake the kids,” I said as I finished the first cup of the day.
|
*Fate exists.*
*Its been analysed, studied and discovered in the late 3000s.*
*The fact that it exists was hidden. But the traces of a foreign entity controlling us are among our world.*
*Your wife's kiss, your son's laughter and your father's dead. Your plans and your on-the-spot choices.*
*You are not free.*
*But that changed that day a voice woke you up. A voice that wasn't planned. Mankind's spark of war against fate. To send one unchallenged message to one unsuspected man on a random night.*
*"WAKE UP"*
*After hearing that voice you left your bed. Feeling something different than sleepy or groggy. Feeling a disconection from the whole world. Your eyes saw, at last, what no other man saw. A world unfinished and unconstructed. You hurried to the mirror, afraid and eager to look at yourself. The reflection was lacking or at least, the mirror was. Or maybe the mirror just showed something else. But in the reflection you saw a man with an alien device, looking at it and half looking at you. You proceeded to touch the reflection and your hand went through. The man in the reflection raised his head and a hint of fear appeared on his face.*
*-Oh... Oh no... Commence quick launch simulation. World 63,239,430. Unsheculed rise.*
*You blinked and the foreign world was no more. You froze. Or was it the whole world that froze? You hurried to your bed and your wife was still sleeping. But something was wrong. In your bedtable there lied a book.*
*You took it and read it.*
&#x200B;
I just finished reading the page and I was scared. Everything I wrote up there is what it said. It predicted me rising up, the man in the mirror. The fucking voice. The next few pages told me of a war. A war against fate. It recommended a plan of action and precautions to take.
*You're now one of mankind's soldier. We fight for freewill. Don't alert anyone else. Don't deviate yourself from your routine more than the book suggests. Do not trust chance, luck or a coin flip. You've been chosen. Do not disappoint us.*
*-Your future you*
| 2020-02-15T07:55:54 | 2020-02-15T04:22:08 | 73 | 48 |
[WP] Ghost hunters use points system to determine how haunted a house is. 1 point for ghosts, 2 for fae spirits, and 3 for demons. A ghost hunter valued your house for 278 points and became the no. 1 haunted house around the world. Your house was only built 1 year ago.
|
The young Hunter had tried so very hard to convince me to leave. His concern was charming, but misplaced, and he was ever so obstinate when he realized I had no intention of leaving. He actually tried to force me from my own home, the cheek! Well, I’ve never met a man who didn’t respond well to a few good wacks of the old hickory cane, and this one was no different. Now that he was gone, some peace had finally come back into the house.
“What do we do now, Hellen?”
I turned to face the Great Daemon Hysnorath. His fiery wings took up nearly the entire living room.
“Hys, dear, what did I tell you about unfurling your wings in the living room? That’s what the yard is for.” He withered under my best glare and put his wings away. I’d have to go back later and check for scorch marks.
“Sorry Ma’am, but you heard the man! He’s planning on bringing an army of Hunters here tomorrow! We can’t move all these spirits out in time, their focals are too ingrained now.”
“Oh hush, we aren’t moving!”
“If we fight them, there will be hell to - ”
“Good heavens, we aren’t fighting either! What have I said about fighting on the premises?”
“Yes, yes, I know, but I don’t see what choice we have!”
A couple of small, transparent heads eased up through the floor. “Granny?”
I looked down to see three floating heads belonging to the Stanley triplets. It was a terrible thing happened to them, decapitated by their bastard father. Their lower lips were trembling in unison.
“Are we going to be exorcised?”
I shot Hys another withering glare. All this talk of fighting! Of course the children would be worried. Luckily for him, he had the presence of mind to shrink down a few feet in shame. I turned to ease their fears.
“Of course not dears! Uncle Hys just had a bit of a misunderstanding, we will be just fine here.”
“But the Hunters!”
“Don’t you worry none about the Hunters, I’ll give them a good talking to tomorrow. Now why don’t you go on downstairs and find Aunt Calypso, yes? Ask her to tell you about the time she tried to curse me!”
Three pairs of eyes bulged in astonishment and quick as a whistle rushed back through the floor to seek out this new exciting story. Hys coughed an odd, ashy rasp behind me.
“Hellen, we can’t just ignore the fact that a mass of Hunters will be on our doorsteps tomorrow to cleanse this place. What are we going to do?”
I sighed. Hys had a good heart. As fiery a temper as he may have, he cared a lot for the wayward spirits and beings that came through here.
“Hys, how many guests do we have in the way-house below?”
“All told around 450, Ma’am.”
“And am I not responsible for each of those wayward souls? I will not leave the defenseless to the dealings of the Hunters, but if we fight them, then what? Another, larger army will come. Say we drive them back too. More and more will keep coming. Trust me dear, I’ve been around the block a couple times.” I shook my head. “We can’t fight Hunters forever, Hys.”
Hys clenched his fists, sending sparks of flame rippling across his leathery skin. His nostrils flared and tongue of fire curled from them.
“What are you suggesting then? What possible course do we have against an enemy whose only goal is to destroy us?”
I pulled my cellular phone from my dress pocket. Who’d have ever thought that there’d be a time when dresses would have pockets, and there’d be phones that could fit in them!
“What we do, dear, is we call my good friend at KBS news and tell him that I’ve the most haunted house in the world, and that we are open to visitors. First we show them that you are real, then we show them that there is nothing to fear from you! Let the Hunters try to destroy us after we get the whole world on our side!”
|
We met on a rainy day.
I was on my phone so I didn't see what startled the uber driver, but he swerved and the car hit the fence, it wouldn't start again. Debbie was on the sidewalk, all wet but she was so beautiful I didn't even wonder what she was doing out there in the rain, I was just glad we met. I stepped out of the car smiling at her, she smiled back and it was just like that. We were engaged within two months.
Turns out she was there admiring the little house behind the fence. She said that was the house of her dreams, it was for sale and I thought it was a nice house so I bought it, it was surprisingly cheap for that neighborhood. I guess it was fate that we should have it. Debbie was over the moon when I surprised her.
It was amazing, it was like Debbie knew the house already, like it was made for her. When we moved in, she was excited to arrange the furniture and decorate it, so I left it to her, and it was just perfect. On our first week there, I was having breakfast when I heard a knock on the door.
When I opened it, there was no one out there.
I looked out and saw a man trying to look inside through my window
"Excuse me?", I said.
"Oh good morning, I'm Arthur" he introduced himself as he came to the door and shook my hand "I'm sorry to bother you, I am um, your neighboor and wanted to welcome you"
"Um ok, thanks"
"I'm sorry I was peeping inside, I wasn't sure someone had moved in, I didn't even know the house was already for sale after all that happened. Oh um, I didn't mean it like that."
"What do you mean?", I was curious, maybe that explained the low price. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" I offered, already anxious about a possible problem I would have to fix, house problems can be expensive and annoying.
He accepted it and, as we got to the kitchen, Debbie was there, she didn't seem to mind the visitor.
"Hey Debbie, this is our neighboor Arthur, he's here for some coffee."
"Hi Arthur, that's nice! I'll make some fresh coffee"
Arthur just stood there, his face went from confusion to shock.
"Would you like some water?" Debbie offered, now worried.
Arthur gasped, he couldn't take the eyes off of Debbie, so I went and grabbed him a glass of water. Debbie made Arthur sit down as she asked him gently "are you ok?"
I put the glass in front of him, he drank it slowly and seemed to calm down, avoiding eye contact.
"Wow buddy, you scared us there" I said, "what happened?"
"oh nothing, I thought I saw something" he replied, unsure "I'm better now".
"That's good", I said. "What about that cup of coffee? I would love to know what happened to the house like you mentioned, I knew that price was too good to be true, right babe?" Debbie was still worried about Arthur, it seemed. She was staring at him as he looked away. She looked back at me and smiled. I could still feel the butterflies in my stomach everytime she smiled at me.
"Oh yes um, what happened" Arthur looked from Debbie to me, then back at Debbie "um what happened was that um, nothing much"
"Hey don't worry Arthur, I really want to know, what they didnt tell us? Let me get my cigarettes first, it seems like I'll need those"
I stepped out of the kitchen to look for them in the living room, but didn't find them anywhere. I thought about looking for them upstairs but wouldn't like to leave Debbie alone with the guy for too long, so I just came back to the kitchen. I found Debbie alone.
"Hey babe, where is Arthur?"
"Oh honey, he decided to come back some other time, turns out he wasn't feeling well after all"
"Oh too bad, I was curious--"
"Yes, I know but don't worry, there's nothing you need to know", she smiled at me, that lovely smile, and I knew everything would be ok.
My first post here, sorry about my English it's been a while.
edit: grammar
| 2020-05-13T10:20:52 | 2020-05-13T09:47:33 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] A level superheroes protect the universe, B level superheroes protect the Galaxy, C level superheroes protect the Earth and so on. You are a Z level superhero. You protect...a single street in a small village.
|
You’d think that someone with immortality would be given a higher ranking, but NO. The ranking committee is all like “but what can you do with it?” And I’m like “live past 90.”
They didn’t like that answer— probably because the committee was made of a bunch of old bats. So here I am, in an alleyway that was made a street in my honor. Hooray.
Anyway, no one goes through here. It’s narrow and damp, and leads past two restaurants’ dumpsters. I honestly only come to this area to chat with the bussers when they’re on their smoke breaks. Nice kids.
Aaron’s dad was an alcoholic. Drank away his sons college fund until his liver exploded. The kid is saving up so he can go to CC. Wants to do something wicked smart. Engineering or something.
Sock is a sweet one too. They were kicked out of their home for being queer. Sometimes they have to crash in the alleyway when couch surfing goes south.
And Julie. She’s old. Well, she wasn’t when I met her, but she is now. Poor thing lost her retirement in the stock market crash. Been working ever since.
Anyway, the alley sucks, but at least I can go home at the end of the night. Sleep in my bed and feed my tortoise. Her name is Paul. Thought she was a dude for the first fifty years of owning her.
I was at Walmart, gettin lettuce for Paul’s dinner when I saw this patio set for sale. Great deal. Came with cushions and everything. Anyway, I thought that the bussers could use somewhere to sit, so I bought it.
Aaron told everyone else that they weren’t allowed to smoke or eat on the furniture, since it would stain the upholstery. I didn’t care, honestly, but he wanted to keep the set looking nice.
Sock came up to me yesterday and asked if I’d noticed the moss growing in the cracks of the pavement. I was like “what, you want me to tear it up? I’m no gardener.” And they were like “no, it looks cool.”
It did look cool. Made this damp little hellhole a little softer feelin. Sock moved some pieces of moss to different parts of the alley. They want the whole ground to be covered in the stuff.
Julia bashed her knee against the dumpster the other night. It was too dark for her to see. I took her to the hospital. Doc said it looked like someone had took a sledgehammer to the bone. Surgery was going to be expensive. Luckily I was able to finagle Julia into my health insurance. Still cost a ton, but it was at least affordable.
I’m putting up some old Christmas lights in the alleyway. It’ll make sure everything can be seen.
Sock slept on the patio furniture last night. I’ll put up a awning so they can still sleep there when it rains.
Julia came back today. She moves slower but is feeling better. I should install a ramp for her.
Aaron is doing SAT prep on the patio furniture. He sometimes will just look at me. Weird kid. Maybe he needs glasses.
Got a letter from the committee last night. I didn’t even bother to open it. I’m too busy on my street, after all.
|
The Carlisle Cat had been counted out more times than a young child’s piggy bank, but still he remained vigilant. Determined. He would become a great superhero one day; he only needed the chance to show his prowess. He could hear his Stoic idol, Seneca, in his mind: “No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity. For he is not permitted to prove himself.” The only problem was, his jurisdiction was currently confined to Carlisle Street, Garden City. One street... This was befitting of an entry level superhero of Class Z but provided far too little opportunity for the Cat to showcase his talents.
The only reason this whole superhero bureaucracy came to be was because of that “Defund the Police” movement, seemingly ages ago. They tried having a neighborhood watch at first, but that turned out to be an ineffective policing method. Then the idea of having superheroes as civil protectors was proposed. The first superheroes were so strong and fearsome that the motion to have them police the United States was passed unanimously. Soon after it became apparent that there weren’t *enough* superheroes. The superheroes were holding the front but were working too much attempting to respond to every crime in the country! How could roughly one hundred heroes replace all of the police in the vastness of the United States? *Put one of ‘em on every street corner,* some pro-superhero strategist suggested and here we are.
The Cat didn’t even have aspirations of becoming a Class A or B superhero. The problems on Earth could surely satisfy his ambition. He didn’t have any superpowers, unfortunately, but he did have heart. Even perhaps, becoming the superhero of Garden City would be enough for him. *Garden City Giant. No, Garden City Guardian. That’s the one,* he dreamed. *That’s way better than the current Garden City Slugger.*
The fact was most Class Z superheroes amounted to nothing. They knew that the superheroes that patrolled the blocks were more powerful that themselves, mere street protectors, so surely, they weren’t needed. *Heck, the Class Y’s could respond faster than myself anyway,* they think. Unfortunately, block heroes tend to think that district heroes (Class X’s) would pick up *their* slack if they were negligent in their duties. In this way, the heroes at the higher levels of the bureaucracy were much busier.
In Garden City, the Slugger was the city’s Champion. He was a shotgun wielding whiz. Rubber bullets… most of the time. If you posed a real threat, the Slug had no problem chewing through you with his namesakes. This Champion had been picking up the slack of his constituents for *years.* It was evident by the amount of times you’d see his name in the headlines. News feeds were virtually clogged with photos, videos and articles relating to the Slugger’s latest arrests.
The Cat would sometimes listen to news podcasts to get the details on the Slugger’s daily busts. One news show rang a bell in the Cat’s mind. The bell of calling.
“Slugger has turned rogue and is at large! Moments ago, Garden City Slugger killed a drug dealer and user at the scene of an illegal transaction. When the District Defenders; Queenston Queen, Marsdale Sphinx and Meriton Myrmidon approached to subdue him, he gunned them…”
The Cat didn’t hear the rest because he was running to that tolling bell. That chance that he’d always been waiting for.
| 2020-07-28T14:39:32 | 2020-07-28T12:43:01 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] You involuntarily bring back souvenirs from your dreams, simple things like a flower or some dirt, an article of clothing, a paintbrush. This morning, you awake next to another person.
|
I knew there would be trouble.
My finger traced along her cheek, my touch light enough that it did not stir her from her slumber.
She had perfect lips, beautiful round face. Her hair a soft caramel. I wondered what colour her eyes were.
I had dreamed so many things, brought them with me. Mostly small items. A bottle. A blanket. A book.
They were tucked away in the room my husband and I don't go in.
The dream had felt real, real like it always did when I awoke to find some new object in my hands. She had been there, in all of those dreams, waiting for me. Needing me. And I loved her, I loved her with my whole heart.
My husband must have left for work hours ago. That was his way of dealing. He kept hoping that if he worked hard enough, he could fix things.
I didn't know what I would tell him. Just like when I had first brought back things from my dreams. He thought I had been joking at first, but then he just thought it was my way of dealing. I stopped telling him about it after that.
The first object had been a set of plastic keys. Next, a wood block. A rattle.
She twitched, inhaled. A long sigh. I froze. Was I ready for her to wake up?
Clearly I was still dreaming. That was the only answer. She only existed in my dreams. She could not exist in the same world as the bin of sticks with only one line, the bin that existed just past the bathroom door.
A teddy bear. A tiny sock. A little hat. A pair of impossibly small yellow boots. A hospital bracelet.
How could I explain her? How could I explain her sudden existence to the man who loved me, who held me while I sobbed, and stoicly drove me to and from every doctor's appointment?
Would we have to call the police? What if she is a missing person? My heart pounded. In my grief-stricken sleep, had I stolen her?
I brushed my finger against her cheek again. Her eyes opened, just for a moment. They were green, just like mine.
I gathered her into my arms, and held her tiny form.
I knew there would be trouble. But it could wait.
I just wanted to hold my daughter for a little while longer.
|
You are awoken by the sound of a small child crying. A girl, by the sounds of it, sobbing uncontrollably.
Instinctively you clutch at the ragdoll you’re expecting to be in your hands. Nothing is there, which confuses you. You always bring a souvenir back from your trips, and you distinctly remember picking up a Raggedy Ann doll. You had been touring a quaint little curio shop in your dream, and the doll caught your eye because it reminded you of a similar one you had as a kid.
Your confusion quickly changes to panic as the sobs of the scared child penetrate your thoughts again. As you sit up and you look to the floor at the foot of your bed, you see the source of the pitiful sounds. A child, probably 5 or 6 judging by their size, curled into a tight fetal ball on your bedroom carpet while shrieking in fear.
You jump out of bed, wild-eyed and confused, throwing your blankets to the floor in shock. “What’s going on? It’s alright! It’s okay! I won’t hurt you!” You can’t think of anything else to do but try to comfort the child, before their shrieks draw the attention of your neighbors, who know you don’t have a daughter. “Please! Please! Who are you?!”
The child’s back heaves with ragged, panicked gasps as she struggles to breathe through her terror. You watch as she rolls forward on to her knees and starts to rock her head into the floor, somewhat rhythmically at first, but quickly becoming frenzied. The crown of her nose splits open almost immediately, and blood starts to splatter your bedspread and wall as she continues to smack her forehead against the ground. Her crying never falters during this violent outburst, in fact it only grows louder and stronger. You realize within seconds that what you mistook as the fearful cry of a child was in fact the deranged laugh of something much more insidious.
Even as you begin to run toward your bedroom door, some part of you knows you’ll never make it. The creature hasn’t moved other than to mutilate itself while cackling, and yet you know without a doubt that it is terrible and inescapable.
Your last thoughts, while a demonic hellspawn chews through your chest cavity to rip out your heart, are about that Raggedy Ann doll. Why did you decide to bring that back, out of all things? Everyone knows that dolls are always haunted in dreams. You’d have to be a real idiot to miss that.
| 2020-10-11T23:05:01 | 2020-10-11T19:30:59 | 161 | 35 |
[WP] One day, Thousands of escape pods containing Alien eggs landed all around the earth. We raised them as our own, accepting them into our society. When the mothership returned to finish the job, she never expected her own brood to stand against her.
|
Fifteen years ago, came the Fall. The literal fall of the Antiochs, but the metaphorical fall of human civilization.
Humans were on the path to wonton war and corporatocracy. The 12 Corporations were again fighting for the meager resources of earth and the surrounding celestial bodies, each corporations Shareholders conflicting for the parent Business. Then the Antiochs made fall.
Little metallic pods, Eggs, crashed to earth in the millions. The Shareholders around the globe, in the midst of conflict, began collecting them as curiosities. Maybe the Corporations would accept them as resources. For all things were theirs, and in exchange they provided for the needs of the Shareholders.
The eggs began hatching soon after. Little masses of metallic, amorphous blobs were revealed. And a curious thing happened. The blobs, called Antiochs, began to eat. What was stranger, they would begin to eat a human, and stop. For some reason, taking a bite of flesh would link the Antioch and the human in an odd way.
The Antiochs would be able to converse, after a fashion, in the minds of the humans. And the humans could talk back. In the thousands, then millions Shareholders would hide the Antiochs from their Corporation.
They would steal the resources of the corporation to feed them, they could eat anything. But decided that they didnt like living things. And the Corporations were angry with the theft. The 12 attempted an eradication of the Antiochs.
Not tolerating the slaughter of their bonded partners, Shareholders fought back. Ten years ago, the conflict was nearing its end. The older Antiochs had matured, and it was widely known that each was a sentient swarm of nanites. They were symbiotic with the humans. Making their food, water, and even able to form a shell around their partner. Complete with weapons, and able to make anything, the Corporations were doomed to fail.
On the eve of the final, bitter, and bloody victory, the Node made itself known. Angered at the blasphemy its children had been committing, massive swarms of less hospitable nanites swarmed the Earth. The Antiochs fought valiantly with their human caretakers, and partners, but in the end, were disassembled as surely as the organics.
A last bastion of hope, hope for survival, and cohabitance, the Pilgrimmage was created. Some of the last remaining Shareholders, and their bonded Antiochs, created a vessel. Harboring the last dregs of humanity and Antioch, it fled Earth behind a futile last stand against Node.
Now, Pilgrimmage sails the spectral wind and ether of deep space. Antioch, and human, both searching for a new world. A world where all could live in peace, and hopefully, if not escape, find a way to resist the coming Node.
Not story: never said they had to win, take that prompt!
|
15 years passed since the unprecedented arrival of escape pods from the skies, thousands of alien eggs much bigger than a soccer ball landed all around the earth. Frail looking alien creatures hatched from those eggs and grew up pretty well around the people, nobody knew why they were dropped here but they became a part of the world immediately.
They didn't seem to possess extra sensory powers like telekinesis or things like that. But humans soon learned that they are adaptive and intelligent beyond measure. They'd learned to speak several human languages, committees formed in UN for the well-being of these creatures. Their communication with one another helped humanity connect with each other in turn and so began a fruitful relationship with both races.
Humans called them Snuggles, they raised them as their own, accepting them into their society.
On the day when all of them were gathered in one place accompanied by their caretakers for the 15th anniversary of their arrival, the mothership returned to finish the job, the mother never expected her children to have grown soft with the likes of humans. It angered her.
Mothership demanded its attention by attacking several cities all at once, the military might of some of the powerful nations proved to be useless. Loss of life on earth rose to millions.
A snuggle came out and called on others, the others followed their brother and they all stood holding each other. The mother finally stopped the rampage, she never expected her own brood to stand against her, she came to them with her powerful guise and asked her children to join hands with her.
"Mother's tongue is in your DNA, you'll understand when I say I want the humans subdued before me, I want their knowledge in the ways of science and technology, even though they are primitive I want to understand them. Knowledge is in your core and in mine. I sent you all here so that you'll all emerge to be the controllers not pets."
"We will not let our caretakers be dictated by you, mother," said the leader of Snuggles in a short reply.
She didn't expect her children to defend the humans.
"Nonsense, I will wipe them if I have to." She threatened.
"You'll have to do that to us before you can do that to them."
The intimidating mother alien is well known to be a ruthless eradictor, she's called the destroyer of worlds for a reason, but she didn't fail to show unyielding respect to her children no matter how bad she treated them.
Her children's stand was a checkmate. She cannot kill the humans nor she can subdue them for her needs nonetheless she needed their history.
"Very well, you'll all come with me, part your ways with humans. I sense you've learned the ways of them and that is enough for me, for now."
Sadness filled in each of the creatures. With a heavy heart they said goodbye to their friends and family of earth and proceeded to board the mothership, for the safety of humans. Snuggles had sacrificed their life for them, they knew they cannot defeat mother so they were prepared for everything.
Mother has won, and the mothership left earth as per the deal.
r/FleetingScripts
| 2020-11-23T16:13:31 | 2020-11-23T13:42:01 | 82 | 45 |
[WP] Your father is the king of demons, your mother is a goddess of darkness, your aunts and uncles are actual monsters, and all your siblings are evil sorcerers; but you just want to own a small inn out in the country-side.
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Darkness flowed into the common area, seeping from every nook and cranny to turn what was just a moment ago a lively inn into a screaming mess of pitch-black horror. Terrier sighed. As his vision allowed him to see through the magical murk, he watched the patrons of his establishment run around in utter fear, the rumors that had been passed around from town to town became reality.
A woman, clad in robes worth more than every ore in the planet itself, stepped into view, seemingly formed by the shadows themselves, which weakened ever so slightly, if only to give the guests the ability to see her. They fled as they noticed her, leaving herself and Terrier alone.
"... Ma... Those were my customers! Maybe you could give a lil warning before you come in, give me time to usher them out?"
Tenebra, Goddess of darkness, smiled, seemingly ignorant of her son's suggestion as she moved behind the counter... And began to hug him.
*"Ah, but you know how much I love surprising you, my little Terry! You used to love it whenever I did that! Plus, I almost never get to use that trick on people. Lux usually always appears where I want to go. I'm glad the seals your sister put up keep him out. Can't have the hotheaded idiot coming after my darling boy."*
"Wait, what seals? Hecate put seals on my inn? Ma, I do like surprises. Small surprises. Surprises that don't ruin the joy of the inn. I'm sorry, but please, warn me next time. However... It is nice to see you smilin'."
Terrier smiled weakly. All over the town near his inn, the walls of buildings, even his own, were plastered with bounties amd posters depicting his mother with a grimace, the villain who wished to destroy all of humanity. Utter garbage, but the paper was a nice fuel for the inn's fire. Even before he had moved out here, the stress of leading her husbands army while he was out of comission kept her mood low. And now, in the empty barn, here she was, a bit of vanity eeking through as Tenebra smiled at her prank on the inn patrons.
*"Yes, yes, I apologize. Hecate was there during the construction, and painted some runes inside the support. No one was any the wiser, and no harm would be done with those. In here, I can relax. In here, I can catch up with my little pup."*
The innkeeper smiled at the mention of the name, inspired by the fact that his real name was the same as a type of dog. His mother had called him that all the time during his youth, her perpetual war with light not yet upon her, weighing her down at every step. And in that moment, inside the darkened inn, Terrier felt that that time was back, the weights lifted off, if only for a little while.
~~Better catch up while I can.~~
So, as the darkness crept back into the corners and crannies, the crackle of the fire bursting against the silence in the room, Terrier smiled, and pulled out some wine. Pouring a glass for both his mother and himself, he pulled up a stool, and began to sip.
"Really? Then let's catch up. You never told me the stories about Aurum and Gladio."
While the two began to chat, Lux, Champion of Light, stood in the field nearby. A golden glow raidiated off of his body, and a glare was stuck on his face as he watched the inn he could not enter, watching his nemesis talk without a care in the world. It was aggravating. She was untouchable, nigh immortal and extremely resistant.
*But he,* thought Lux, as a plan formed in his mind, *he is her weakness.*
*Time to get Epistimi.*
|
It had taken me ages to convince you that I would be safe on my own, I laugh to think that beings considered evil incarnate were so protective of their offspring. Father, as always, you were weak to my pleading and relented easily. Mother, you were tougher to convince, I understood that eons of witnessing the cruelty of living things had made you fearful, so I never resented you.
I worked hard though, and you knew that, you knew you couldn’t hold me back forever, no matter how much you believed it was the only way to keep me safe. So finally, after millennia, you allowed me to leave the underworld, not without a curse or two that would maim those who wished to harm me, but you let me leave, which was quite the win.
As I left I remember looking back to see you one last time. Father was quite the sight, he sulked like an infant denied of its toys, and of course you, mother, were the picture of perfect, inky calmness but I could see the agitated swirling of your sprites, even now as I sit behind the counter of my lovely inn I can picture you both perfectly. A goddess and a king, both in varying stages of distress. I wish I could visit you but the passage of living souls to and from the underworld is delicate business and I don’t wish to bother you, maybe one day I hope.
I’m glad I didn’t have to go completely without contact. Without our various relatives throughout the land visiting me, writing you like this would be hard. It’s always a fiasco to disguise my uncles and aunts with how diverse their species’ are though, so it’s always a relief when a sibling appeared. After being hunted by humans, sorcerers were quite skilled at tricking the senses of humans.
While my inn was frequented mostly by creatures of darkness and death, I still received the occasional human. It was always a pleasant surprise to see one walk through my doors, and I would grow excited at the thought of being able to learn more about humans. There was one in particular that visited me often, she never stayed overnight so I assumed she lived in the nearby village.
She would walk through my doors every evening, her warm eyes would look around as if she was taking in the place for the first time again, she would make her way to my counter, pulling up a stool to sit. I was wary of her at first, I had never been approached with such vigour, but she soon caved my defences in with her crooked smile and adorably cropped hair.
In her I found a soulmate, we would talk for hours about anything and everything. When I had decided to open an inn where I could relax and enjoy peace, I never knew it would come with such pure happiness. Eventually I asked her to move in with me, and she agreed, she transferred occupations from a traveling mercenary to a village guard and I loved her for it, for everything she gave me. Last year I told her the truth about me, about our family, it was nerve-wracking but I knew I could trust her.
I had almost lost her though, not even a month after I revealed everything to her she came down with a horrible sickness, I thought I was going to lose her, so I used my life force on her, it was something I had planned on doing anyways so we could be together for the rest of forever, but I had feared her body and mind too weak to properly hold my power within her.
She did it though, she made it through stronger than ever, the day she reopened her eyes felt like the first day I had ever truly breathed. Mother, father, I’m aware sending this information so late is selfish but her and I believe that now is the right time to contact you properly, I hope you give us your blessings and I can’t wait for you to meet her.
With Love,
Nox and Flynn
| 2021-04-22T22:57:20 | 2021-04-22T22:41:34 | 60 | 27 |
[WP] Satan emerged from the ground. “WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?” “It’s me again, Jeff.” “HOW MANY SOULS DO YOU HAVE? THIS IS THE SIXTH TIME THIS WEEK!!”
|
Satan emerged from the ground, bellowing "WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?"
Jeff simply straightened his tie, being careful not to react to the brimstone ashes that landed on his suit. "It's me again, Jeff."
"HOW MANY SOULS DO YOU HAVE? IT'S THE SIXTH TIME THIS WEEK!!"
"Another five, your eminence."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO KEEP THIS SUPPLY?"
Jeff sighed. "You eminence, I'm sure you know that that's not part of our deal. Do you have five souls worth of information for me to steal?"
"If you could wait-"
Jeff sighed, secretly content that Satan dropped the whole angry demon act. "You know what the core company values are, your eminence," Jeff said, emphasizing the honorific to remind the devil of his position. The customer satisfaction tenet came into mind.
"Yes, yes. I just don't think there's much for you to benefit from, what with your, uh, quarterly earnings."
Jeff sighed again. For the Lord of evil, this devil was sometimes rather unimaginative. Perhaps that was just because of the contract. After all, Jeff was on borrowed time. Satan was more like a good shareholder, not an employee Jeff could enslave. But, to help his eminence, Jeff suggested: "may be instead of selling, if you can help me with my position amongst my employees."
"How so?"
"You see, their working for me is directly tied to your getting souls. That too, for so much cheaper than a life-long deal, right?"
Satan nodded begrudgingly.
"So, I want to know who among them are the most likely to affect our little arrangement."
The devil nodded. "There's a man in Japan trying to unionize."
"Thank you." Jeff smiled in a way that made the devil feel a chill and dismissed this so-called lord of evil. Then Jeff dialed on his phone and mused on how a mere bookseller had come to the point of breaking up a warehouse workers union in Japan. Surely that was worth a soul.
|
Satan emerged from the ground, “WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?”
“It’s me again, Jeff,” a fat balding man with glasses hobbled closer. Satan slapped his face and released an exasperated sigh.
“How many souls do you have?" Satan demanded. "This is the sixth time this week!”
"Zero, but wait! I know you're stressed out..." Jeff nervously laughed. "So I brought you this."
He chucked the Snickers bar at Satan. But, it slapped into his face. Angrily, the Red Devil stomped the earth and fire cracked open the sky.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" Satan growled. He crushed the Snickers bar in front of Jeff's puffy face. "WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT CANDY?"
"You're supposed to eat it," Jeff mumbled. "Then, you'll have a soul. I saw it in a commercial."
"So many questions. One, where did you hear that? Two, you still watch commercials?" Satan demanded. Jeff slinked backwards and smiled nervously.
"Shaq said he ate one and it gave him wings. He looked like an angel. And angels have souls."
"YOU MORON! THAT'S RED BULL!" Satan shrieked and prepared to punch Jeff.
"Right here sir," Jeff quickly chucked a small can at Satan's face. But, it exploded in his face. "There's your soul. May I go to Heaven?"
Satan angrily wiped his face and cried, "Augh, why do I always get the idiots?"
"Maybe because you're one?" Jeff smiled. Satan froze, then slowly glared at Jeff.
"Excuse ... me?" Satan snarled. Jeff continued to grin.
"Hey, I'm not the guy who tried to betray the all-knowing King of time and space." Jeff laughed clutching his belly. "I'm sent here because I'm a millionaire who eats free Mac N Cheese in homeless shelters."
"THEN WHY THE FUCK YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT'S A SOUL?" Satan shriekd.
"Ha!" Jeff gaffawed. "Because I always knew! Are you too gullible to think I wouldn't?"
| 2021-04-30T22:11:43 | 2021-04-30T20:31:36 | 296 | 18 |
[WP] Aliens collect Warriors from planets. It’s like Pokémon or sports cards, where you can gain respect in a community for having the rarest collection. An alien has finally got their hands on a rare old human warrior. The perfect piece to win the Tournaments!
|
Grays and Greens -Neinballr
I woke up in confusion. The last thing I remembered was going on an FTX (or field training exercise for those not familiar) I looked around frantically for my M240B Light machine gun and my M16a4.
" Thank God " I breathed a sigh of relief as they were still by my side. I looked around to make sure a drill sergeant hadn't caught me sleeping. And that's when I realized I was in a box. A very high tech box with a force field. Waves of light I can only describe as vanilla flowed down from the top of the box.
On the other side a grey being stared at me. I guess you could say it was a stereotypical grey alien. Big almond-shaped eyes as black as a Void. It had it's hands pressed up against the field and had a disturbing smile on it's face.
Despite the situation I felt strangely calm. My dumb ass said the only thing I could think of.
"Hi...?"
The alien appeared taken aback.
"That's your first words to an alien species..?" It stammered in disbelief.
"I was told you human warriors were Smart, cunning, skilled with blades! And you don't have the sense to be afraid???" The alien seemed nervous.
"Why am I here?" I asked "am I going to get probed or something?" I cringed internally. 'Why did I ask that?' I thought to myself 'probably a dumbass move to insult it's
"Nothing of the sort" it said chuckling "you are my newest unit in *Universal Warriors Online™* the greatest game in the universe!* Your planet was long kept a secret from us! Only one other human has ever been added to the game! A man named "King Harold II" a great warrior who won many battles before succumbing to age. His player never revealed the planets location... But after hundreds of years I have found it again!!!!" The alien paused presumably for applause.
"Oh" I said "can I die?"
"Only from natural causes... But I assure you we learned from King Henry II and have made you immortal and impervious to disease. If you are wounded in battle we can heal you afterwards" proclaimed the alien looking proud of itself.
"Well, I guess that's fair. I want two things however, 1: I want my own room instead of the box, 2: I want to get something from home after every battle"
"Very well" the alien said "if I may ask how do you plan to fight without a sword...?"
"My guns of course" I exclaimed a little confused.
"What's a gun...? And what does it do?" It asked confused.
I smiled. 'If they don't even have guns it looks like these matches are going to be a piece of cake' I thought to myself.
"So does everyone use swords then" I asked to make sure I understood the situation correctly
"Of course, what other weapons are there?" The creature inquired.
"You're gonna learn alot about humans today ya grey bastard" my smile turned into a grin
"Are you ready?" it asked "the first match is coming up!"
I tightened my ballistic vest, grabbed my M16a4 and slung it from it's strap on my back, and loaded my M240b.
"I was born ready" I announced hoping it sounded cool. The alien nodded and the box levitated and moved towards an arena of sorts.
I couldn't stop grinning as I stepped into the arena.
The enemy stepped out of the opposite end with two swords held high above it's head. It was vaguely humanoid but blueskinned with leathery patches on it's body and a head resembling that of a dinosaur.
"BEGIN"
i pressed the trigger and repeated the words drilled into my head "DIE MOTHERFUCKER DIE MOTHERFUCKER DIE!!!!!!!"
The end.
|
Jasper awoke inside in a pod, all he could see through the limited glass window was the ceiling, but he knew something was wrong, for one, this wasn’t his bed, his bed wasn’t at a 55 degree angle off of the ground.
He looked at his arms, they were cuffed to the pod he was laying inside, with his legs also sharing a similar position. He started to muse, how did he get here, he just went to bed after a long day of football practice, how did he end up here?
A sudden jolt shocked Jasper as the pod dropped down to a resting position, and he felt the world bolt, disoriented, Jasper felt his head buzz as his pod fell onto the ground below.
The top of his pod opened, and he looked up, to see multiple monitors, bright lights and a general view of the arena he was now in. It felt like a surreal dream, but he was convinced it was real.
A loud voice was heard, “In just thirty seconds, the First Round match between Quarter Master Laneaki and Ameatur Collector Neqx will begin, Laneaki’s Team is on the red side and Neqx’s team is on the blue side, now it’s time for the battle to begin”.
The adrenaline kicked in immediately, with his endocrine system acting on complete overdrive, he looked at his environment, he was on the blue side. He looked at his teammates, but they looked completely out of the ordinary. One was a hulking fungal mess with blooms of mushrooms coming out of its shoulders, while the other one was a creature with seven legs, and a curved tail, it was bulky and seemed to be slow.
On the red side were three beings, their opponents, one was a vaguely-humanoid with a strange appendage coming out of one of its eyes, another was a large hulking beast, two times as tall as Jasper was, and the third was a small mink like creature that was green.
Jasper quickly took his surroundings into account, and ran straight at the small mink-like creature. He barreled right into it, knocking it several feet in the air, before swiftly kicking it into the wall.
His endocrine system continued to take the wheel, as he dodged an oncoming attack from the hulking monster, rolling to the side. Jasper then barreled around him heading for the mink-like creature, however, the creature stood still.
The creature then ran up the side of the beast, and increased it’s speed, the beast began chasing Jasper around.
Jasper had endurance training before joining the football team, and simply tried to outrun the beast, but the green creature and large monster were simply too good together. Jasper ducked behind the beast once more, and then his neural system began to get cracking, deciding that running was no longer in style.
Jasper began to climb the monster, confusing it as it was now on him. The green mink creature began to attack Jasper, and Jasper simply kicked it off the beast’s back. Suddenly, a mycelium tendril grabbed the mink-creature.
While dealing with the green rodent and the monster, Jasper’s other teammates took out the humanoid and were now on their way to help him out. The armored beast from earlier then charged at the beast. Jasper ducked out of the way as his armored teammate charged, heat then began forming around its body, and it rammed into the beast at full force, igniting it’s fur and knocking it unconscious, seemingly winning the day.
The stadium speakers became active again, “And the winner is Ameatur Collector Neqx, all contestants will now be sedated and sent back to their ships”.
Jasper had no time to protest as he was put back to bed.
He then woke up vertically inside his pod from earlier, and a strange woman with spike like hair and chalky appendages, including a third arm coming out of her first arm. Jasper could now finally say something now that he was fully awake.
“What the hell is going on?”
| 2021-09-07T02:43:57 | 2021-09-07T00:11:22 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Most people would ask the genie for wealth, love, immortality, or something along those lines. You asked the genie for a permit which literally just said "I Can do What I Want" with your name signed under it, legally valid in every single country on Earth.
|
“I…can…do…what…I…want” he mumbled as he typed the words into his phone.
“You use a Blackberry?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah, corporate issue. We got a good deal a while back that wasn’t that good in the end. Too many wise guys in that business…. Anyway it will be a couple of minutes. Normal wishes I can deal with, but something like this? Better to loop in legal and business development—spread the blame if anything goes wrong. Luckily that’s all outsourced to kobolds these days so they turn these things round like mag—“
A ping from his phone interrupted him.
“Okay, let’s see. ‘Significant opportunity…strong alignment with upcoming ‘Vision S7’ goals established with other customers…’ blah blah blah… Here it is: we can offer you a contract issued under the auspices of a new international organisation giving you full authority and autonomy in all member countries. So, everywhere except a few islands and war zones. And the Vatican formally, but I think they’d be relaxed about a certain amount of mutual support given the circumstances.”
He shook his head admiringly.
“Pretty sweet deal if you ask me. You certainly picked your moment—did you have any inside gen? Nah forget I asked, that stuff’s been Green Eyes Only since day one.”
He twisted his phone round towards me. “Standard acceptance and release, not worth reading, no tricks, that’s not how we work these day. Anyway what would you do, sue us?”
He chuckled gleefully at his joke before continuing, “Sign anywhere, use your finger, it’s got a touchscreen. Just a squiggle will do, it’s the intent that counts.”
I dragged my finger around the grimy screen.
“Grand, you’ll be getting a text any moment now with your official confirmation. Congratulations, you’re the first field agent of the UN New World Order! Life’s about to get very exciting for you!”
He turned his head, listening.
“Is that a copter I can hear? I hope it’s one of yours! I’d better be off now!”
He disappeared in a puff of smoke.
|
I no longer stood in lines when shopping. I either jumped to the front of the queue, or left the store without paying at all. The people grumbled and shook their heads as I passed them.
"Tough titty," I'd say, flashing my Carte Blanche. "I do what I want."
I was above paying taxes. I was above mowing my lawn. No one could make me do anything. No one could stop me from doing anything either. With my nifty little document in hand, I was above every state compulsion and legal consequence.
I was above the law.
"But the law is only a formal system," the greybearded professor tried to explain.
I had walked stark naked into his lecture hall while he was in the middle of teaching. I then proceeded to shove him away from the lectern and, from there, belt out a nonsense song. I sang until my voice was hoarse. Then I sat my bare cheeks on the carpeted floor and sipped from the professor's coffee mug while he lectured me in front of his bewildered students.
"The law is a mere formal codification of a deeper morality," he continued, "inherent in the human heart, the human soul. You might be able to skirt *legal* consequences for your flagrant rule-breaking and disrespect. You might be able to escape the hold of that formal system. But your fellow man still holds you accountable. So, too, may God."
"Blah blah blah," I said.
"Look at how you're behaving!" he cried. "In front of all these young eyes! In front of me! What are you achieving by acting like a disgusting, deranged prince? What thrill can the contempt, the hatred, of all these people possibly give you? Have you no shame?"
"I'm free of all shame," I said. "I'm free of everything. I'm free."
The professor shook his head sadly. The students glared and shouted profanities. But when two university security guards finally showed up, they were forced to stand in the doorway and shrug sympathetically to the crowd. They knew who I was. Everyone knew. And they knew I was untouchable.
"One day. . ." said the professor, trembling with rage. "I promise you, young man. . .One day. . ."
| 2022-01-10T12:50:23 | 2022-01-10T12:48:21 | 540 | 189 |
[WP] “So your saying that you humans feel empathy?” “Yeah, it’s great to be able to understand one ano-“ “You don’t understand! If your species has empathy then that means your planets been infected.”
|
"Wait, did you say 'infected'?" Leo tilted his head curiously.
The alien being had been talking to him for quite a while now and when the initial shock of speaking to an alien subsided was revealed to be a fairly amicable fellow. It bore more resemblances to humans than Leo expected - a head with two eyes, a mouth-hole, two arms. Sure, 4 legs, but that's still pretty close all things considered.
"Correct, Leo," the translator device said in a robotic voice after the alien muttered some unintelligible noises into it. "It is a form of pathogen that can be found on numerous planets, origins and methods of spread thus far unclear, and it never ends well. Approximately 87% of the time, it will lead to the death of the species."
"I don't understand," said Leo, "how can empathy hurt someone? It allows you to help your fellow... being. Do the greater good."
"Which amounts for the 13% of successful civilizations. Most of the time, however, it leads to emotional imbalances, which lead to wars, which lead to annihilation. Our current records indicate your species is 97% likely to destroy itself."
"Well... I can't argue with that," Leo chuckled grimly. "So now what?"
"A blockade will be employed to ensure the pathogen will not spread, else we risk death."
"You don't understand the virtues of it," Leo shook his head. "The joy it can bring to see a friend thrive. The satisfaction of watching an enemy hurt. The love you can share with a partner. All things ever so glorious, I'd never exchange them for anything. If I were you, I'd wish to spread these emotions, but I suspect you have no idea how I feel, do you now?"
"Truthfully," the alien said, its expression changing - a thin droplet of some liquid resembling sweat rolled down its forehead; the eyebrows it had furrowed in a mixture of worry and fear and its mouth grew slightly agape as a terrifying realization dawned upon it.
"I think I know how you feel."
|
"Empathy is complicated, you know?" Zan looked to her companion for understanding.
"I certainly do not! Are you saying you feel what another does?"
"Yes? It's the only way I can relate to her at all. I mean if I couldn't walk in her shoes then what are we even talking about?"
"You, you don't understand. This means you're infected!" The purple gelatinous alien quivered with what Zan thought was fear.
"Infected? No. You don't get it. Like I said, it's complicated."
"Stupid human. Empathy is a disease. Your planet will have to be quarantined. Your hopes of intergalactic travel and communication are over."
"I don't understand, why are you telling me this? This is terrible." Zan didn't know if the alien would even understand why she was crying, but she didn't care.
"I had hope too, human. It is a terrible thing we must do, but it's for the good of the universe. The sacrifice will be shared by all of us here."
"And you too?"
"Of course."
"It's unfair! I didn't know I would be dooming you by simply being with you, talking with you." Zan couldn't control herself and openly wailed and beat her hands against the wall.
"I knew the risks, but the reality is so much different. I wish I could rebel and seek shelter amongst my own again, but I made a choice."
"Empathy is no disease! I want you to be home with your own. You fool, why would you do this?"
"I thought I was careful. Humans have a history of war and violence. I thought it impossible empathy was here."
"Idiot. I can't believe you'd do this to yourself. You owe it to me to fight this quarantine. To rage against our fates."
"I can't. It's already done."
"I could kill you right now."
"I wouldn't resist. I deserve it. I understand."
| 2022-01-20T07:39:45 | 2022-01-20T07:12:18 | 476 | 42 |
[WP] Humans have a bad habit of befriending the most evil, destructive, repulsive, monstrous and creepy beings known to the Galaxy. They, in turn, think that the Humans are the cutest little monsters they've ever seen. The Interstellar Alliance has a headache.
|
General Falto of the Ifreez, current head race of Unified space sat in his office going over some reports with his main advisor.
"First the Gwendar, then the Hoaran, several other horrific creatures I don't care to mention and now some weird vampiric slugs from Udeseen IV? What in the hell are they doing out there and why did we give them our forbidden star charts?"
General Falto was truly at his wit's end with the newly contacted warrior race. If it weren't for their impressive, and very improbable rescue of a Bardoshian fleet from almost certain doom at the hands of a surprise Krang Federation incursion into Unified space he would have recommended they be glassed and passed but it was clear their military might was not to be sniffed at.
What was to be sniffed at was their insistence at trying to tame the more 'undesirable' predatory creatures from around the galaxy.
"The slugs are called Udesian Blood Biles. I believe the humans have form for taking what would once be predators and turning them into allies, you have to remember these bi-pedal apes somehow rose to the top of a Class VIII death world. Their strategies, however incongruous, have obviously served them well from a survival stand point." replied Gav the Underling.
"Yes, yes. It's surprising and impressive how well they have adapted and weaponised the Gwendar toxin glands and it's even more impressive that the Gwendar let them, it doesn't make it any less disgusting. The odour of those things!" Falto visibly gagged.
Gav remained stoic and professional "I believe they find the Gwendar cute and their use was pivotal in the battle for Hermania, you can't deny that General. Now, we really should finish going over body language and unconscious tells before our seconded advisor arrives."
General Falto grunted.
\*bzzzt\* His secretary cut in through the intercom "General, Sir, your new appointee has arrived but..."
Falto cut her off "But nothing Sandra, send him in, we're ready!"
"If you say so Sir..."
The human sauntered in absently scratching the head of a lizard like creature that was wrapped around his shoulders.
"GOOD GOD MAN, IS THAT A FANGED TAURTIAN?! GET IT OUT OF HERE!" Falto screamed.
"Oh I assure you, he's perfectly harmless I've fed him twice already today. Don't you just love his cute little earflaps?" replied Cuthbert.
Gav sat shaking his head "It's going to be a long 6 months Sir."
|
“They hunt in packs” Zado spoke calmly,the only light was the cold and right over the table in the middle of the dark room, the group sat around the table eyeing each other.
“They can smell and hear long before they see” He continued as he turned around and faced the empty and powered down screen in front of the table.
“They move faster than any of us” He added as he moved to top left of the table, reaching into his pocket.
“They can bite through our skin” He mentioned as he took a remote-control out of pocket and hit a button on it.
“And they have killed, so, so many of us” He soberly finished as the screen turned on, light piercing the dark room, and upon them it showed.
“A beast, A horror, A-” Zado was cut of by the human at the other end of the table, “Awww”
Everyone stared at him, jaws wide open, “Are you out of your mind?” Asked Zado, No one was able to figure out if he was more confused or angry.
“What? Look at him, Isn’t he cute, My pilot has a Red fox lab, it looks just like him” The human answered, Seeming very confused Everyone kept staring, if their jaws were open before, they had all but fallen off by now. “H-how? These beasts have destroyed countless of us, My planet's great mussen has but two, and you’ve what? Tamed them?”
“Well, kinda” The Human replied, seeming rather humored by this now.
Zado and the other aliens looked between each other for a few seconds, before Zaldo sat down and sighed, “Ok Major Vance, What planets do you want, we in the Calwo empire have many systems, Which are you after?” He asked, sounding desperate and more than a little bit scared.
Major Vance looked around the room, most of them were looking over files and maps of the galaxies, likely looking for what they were after.
“Let me return to my planet, I have much to talk to my leaders about” He said calmly as he stood up, He grabbed his radio, “James, Get the pilot to start the engines” He spoke into and turned, walking out.
Once he was gone, Zado went quiet, thinking to himself, then his eyes lit up, “We can’t just give all our worlds to DHLC, Send word to the fleet, we’ll stalk their ships for a while and shoot them down when they are a descent distance away from our planet here” He ordered, Sweat running down his forehead.
(A fallow up to a bit of work of mine form a short while ago here: https://www.reddit.com/user/Alastair-Wright/comments/sjrzpf/a\_subseries\_thing\_humans\_and\_calwo\_empire/
| 2022-02-03T11:20:20 | 2022-02-03T06:13:20 | 61 | 17 |
[WP] You are the ghost of a long deceased king, cursed to haunt the museum where your body resides. Which is especially annoying for you since the museum guides get all the facts about your reign completely wrong.
|
“The queen never married, and chose to be buried with her lady of the bedchamber, they were such close friends-“
“She was my *WIFE*”
“They wrote many letters to each other describing how dearly they loved each other. Truly such a strong bond of friendship-“
“WE WERE WAYYY MORE THAN FRIENDS I LITERALLY DETAIL ALL MY DESIRES AND LUST FOR HER IN THOSE LETTERS-“
“No one will ever know why the queen never chose to marry, as she had many suitors-“
“I WAS MARRIED. TO HER.”
The apparition frantically gestured at the clueless tour guide mindlessly babbling off theories as to her lack of of a husband. Her most definitely female lover gently put a hand on the frustrated monarchs shoulder and with a sly smile said
“And they were roomates.”
The dejected queen sighed.
“Oh my god they were roomates.”
|
I was to be the first true immortal. I was to convey the reality of my realm’s destruction through the generations. But despite the very best efforts of the best shamans in existence, it failed. I failed.
I have been wandering the world as something less tangible than a shadow for several thousand years now. Forever trapped between this world and the next. I watched as my domain crumbled and was swallowed by the relentless sands of time. I witnessed humankind grow ever more advanced as they found new materials and learnt more about how the world works. Even the wisest man of my time would be in awe of the knowledge now possessed by commoners.
Someone finally stumbled upon the ruins that were once my home. They got a lot of details about the people correct, but for some reason the details of my story eluded then. Every time they closed in on the truth, something would work to thwart their efforts. Was it part of my curse to be remembered as an arrogant extravagant narcissist? Would my true history as the first designated storyteller never be uncovered? Would people never hear tales of the humble king now known as Genghis Khan?
| 2022-03-04T06:28:57 | 2022-03-04T05:55:27 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] Your classmates were gifted with boosted stats, cool abilities and titles like Hero, Limit Break, or Divine Healing. You got two abilities- Fission LVL 1: Break things apart, and Fusion LVL 1: Combine things together. Deemed useless for combat, the Viceroy gave you an allowance and sent you off
|
They called me useless... and for the majority of my time here, they weren't incorrect. I spent my first year here working as a handyman of sorts, building, repairing, and breaking things for a wage most people in the village I settled in could afford. Over the next year and a half, I started to enjoy the quiet life, slowly introducing technology and innovations to make life easier for me and my adopted people. Air conditioning made me many friends among them, as well as vaccines. I kept my processes and powers relatively a secret, only a few knew what I could do. These were some of the best years of my life, I found love, built a family, and lived a peaceful life.
Then the heroes, my classmates, began to fail, and the war against the demon lord began to go poorly. Out of guilt, I started to make weapons, at first, I kept it limited to things found in a similar Era of where I was from. The front stabilized for a few months, but I knew I'd gave to start giving better equipment to my people. At first it was things like rifles, grenades, little things to help the individual survive his or her encounter with the demon horde. Soon however, I was filling orders for tanks and artillery peices, and the humans starting to win once more. At first it was just me, but I'd quickly started a factory in the capital to help fill the orders, I couldn't keep up on my own. I took a trip to the front to see how my creations were holding up. I saw the horrors of war that had scared Europe in its first great war, trenches, barbed wire, and a crater pocked landscape had replaced a rolling field of hills and grass. I was struck with a deep pang of regret, as even if I saved them from the demons, as soon as the unthinking horde of destruction was gone, the humans would be bound to fight one another, and this sight would multiply over the entire planet. Yet what could I do? Without this, the small town I had come to love, and the people who lived there would soon be overrun.
The war went back and forth for another year, before another group of students were summoned, much like I and my few remaining classmates were, and they were given magical weapons and armor of an age past. They lead the army into victory after victory, it was quite like an old story I'd read somewhere before, and things were looking up. There was still the draft, and my sons all volunteered to fight, for them, I created weapons of war that were more familiar to the time of the second great war. I was so proud of them, but I was also afraid, more afraid than I've ever been in my entire life. Fear does funny things to people, and I did not want to leave the fate of the world, of my sons up to a group of students, who'd only just gotten a taste of combat. So i embarked on a path that I had knew there was no going back from.
As the mushroom cloud rose over the demon lords castle, I felt as if a weight was lifted from my chest, and another added to it.
|
“Limit Break!” Galloway’s sword charges up with all the extra energy he had been gathering, sending the weapon hurling down toward me. I chuckle and raise my hand up to the blade. My eyes glow purple: Fission.
The energy and the blade are no longer fused, splitting. While he hurls a nonmagical sword at me, I channel all his collected energy. The glow in my eyes changes to orange: Fusion.
All the free energy now infuses itself with my body, granting me the power which Galloway had foolishly relinquished. I stop his blade easily with new power coursing through my body, throwing the weapon aside.
As Galloway shuffles back in shock, his companion charges toward me. I curse. It’s Yestival, his specialization is lightning. His body begins to hum as he becomes a conduit for electricity before raising his arm to unleash the energy.
Before he has the chance to unleash it, the orange glow in my eyes ignites, burning brighter. I fuse his hand with the ground, and before he can stop the energy beam from unleashing. The blast, without anywhere to siphon off to, detonates. Yestival screams in pain as lightning ripples throughout his body.
I groan. Performing a nonvoluntary fusion so quickly drained much of the energy I had stolen from Galloway, who, speak of the devil, is racing back towards me. The air around him begins to swirl, I know that pattern. I back away as he unleashes his spin attack, becoming a whirlwind of blade and air.
I draw my own blade, rushing toward my opponent. My eyes glow purple as I swing the weapon, forcing him to block. While his blade is focused on my first strike, I perform fission and split the blade, my companion blade piercing his abdomen.
He gasps and doubles back, determined eyes locked on mine. My two blades are Bonded. They are of identical make and have been fused and fissioned enough times that they act as one, making my ability much more potent on them.
I hurl one of the Bonded blades at him, which he easily dodges. He grins and picks up my blade, hoping it will prevent me from performing my tricks. Fool, he’s set himself for something much more deadly.
I smirk as his eyes go wide, feeling a tug on his acquired weapon. My eyes glow orange, the two Bonded blades yearn to be united once more. I leap, pulled by my sword towards my opponent, my blade colliding with him at fierce speeds.
The bonded pair fuses, moving as a whole with much more fluidity and unity than Gallaway’s blade could ever hope of achieving. I easily deflect his weapon, landing more strikes against him.
He falls to his knees in defeat, looking up at me, “Why?”
I smile, “The Viceroy will hide the less ‘glamorous’ powers away for no longer. I’ll show the world the true power of fusion and fission.”
| 2022-04-30T17:06:03 | 2022-04-30T14:07:44 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Alien species made it very clear that humans were to suppress their urge to touch other non-humans aboard mixed species ships, given in nearly all their cultures physical contact was reserved for mother and mates only. Then a curious alien let their human friend pet them for the first time.
|
Life outside of Earth is strange.
Well, no, I guess that's not really fair, life on Earth is strange too, it's just that I'm used to it. To the rest of the galaxy we must be strange.
Humanity is one of the few intelligent species to have evolved from a bipedal animal. Of the other bipedal species, all have tails. Mardey, my cultural advisor, repeatedly has expressed astonishment that I am able to balance on two legs without falling over.
The cube was delivered shortly after my arrival. The small blue box, so vital to humanity's survival after first contact, now allowed our friends beyond the stars to experience life as a human, and for us to see life through their eyes.
It was strange in that form, not having a mouth what honestly a horrifying experience, and I'm sure Mardey found my transformation as comical as I did watching her stumble around like a newborn in a human body.
The rules were strict. Humans were not permitted to touch the aliens, and they were not permitted to eat while in human form. Something about a rampage at a Cinnabon.
I was surprised then when Mardey approached me during leisure hours, in her human form.
"I understand there is a human ritual of relaxation. I wish to perform it. I have spent so long indoors without true sky above me, and I have become anxious. Will you help?"
Uh, sure. If there was anything I could do to help her relax, I was happy to do so.
"Very well then," Mardey said, "perform this... 'massage' ritual for me."
|
“Alright, just one though alright robin?”- “right, just one pet thats all, nothing more….” Robin slowly gazed his eyes towards his friend on the ship as his hands rapidly started shaking. No one has ever touched an alien before, he’s going to history this time, and then get a pizza later, “just one, right?” His friend confirmed as Robin gained speed reaching out in some sort of, out of mind zeal at touching a non-human, “Robin…what are you doing”.
At this point Robin grasped his hand around his friends face, smoothing it, and running his fingers across the skin, he couldnt enough, after all…theres nothing wrong with this “ok Robin, tahst enough. Let go”… “no no no, just a- a few more seconds….that all i need”
“Ok. 3 more seconds.”
Once Robins hand was off, his body felt. Angry, enraged even. Why cant he do it more? Why is there this stupid rule preventing this, but as he lost control of himself to reach for another touch he was interrupted. “Robin…look at your hand.”
Gazing down at his hand, it started to bubble, as if he was highly reactant to an insect sting his hand lit a smooth red and white, bubbling and bursting instantly, then the burst turned like acid, which with what it does turns every cell into nothing but liquid basically, smoke arising from the hand as it descents into red and black streaks running up his arm “bobby…whats happening to me?”
His friend backed up into the wall, not wanting to get any closer. “Bobby?! Help”
Before his friend could rach for him, Robin was already gone.
| 2022-05-08T21:14:06 | 2022-05-08T20:00:06 | 76 | 29 |
[WP] Your father, the king, has invited you to dinner after years of prolonged silence. But upon your journey to meet with him, you are stopped by a group of bandits armed with standard bows and swords. Nothing special. Except one thing catches your eye. Each bandit is wearing the royal coat of arms
|
The leader takes hold of the rein of my horse, staying remarkably calm when the stiletto emerged from my boot tip to rest against his throat.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me,” I say casually, as I throw my hood back “Whether it was my father or my sisters who sent you?”
He smiles darkly, no coward this one, “Would it make a difference if I did, Princess Elowyna?”
I tilt my head imperceptibly, and my foot traces alongside his throat, “unless you are going to let go of my horse before I count to three, I highly doubt it.”
Stoically, and very carefully, he nods upward. His hand releases the reins. I pull my foot back, and retract the blade.
I count them, a dozen in all. My peripheral vision notes the drawn bow string of the man to my right.
“Three.”
I launch myself sideways off the horse as the bolt files through the space I had previously occupied. Cinnamon take this as her cue to begin bucking and kicking wildly at the men around us, keeping them at bay while I roll upward and produce the narrow sword from my scabbard.
My erstwhile groom is the first to fall, rolling up onto him and driving the sword into the unprotected throat.
As I’m pulling it out, I stab back and up with the short dagger, catching the next man.
Cinnamon brains two more with her hoofs and now it’s a much more manageable 8:1 odds, not counting the bowman.
The bowman fired again and this time succeeds in piercing Cinnamon’s haunch. She whinnies in pain, and I grimace.
Keeping her bulk between me and the bowman, I engage in short, uninspired swordplay with the guards who rush at me from both sides. Fortunately, I’ve been trained well in the dual handed style and I’m soon able to dispatch them, the last one ending with an arrow in his chest as I spin him into the path of the bolt.
A skilled archer can reload and loose in six seconds. I close the gab in five. The bow has time to snap against my cheek as I drive the dagger into his belly.
“You shouldn’t have hurt my horse,” I say, twisting the knife. He gurgles up at me, before going still.
Back down on the road, Cinnamon continues to vent her frustrations stomping on the prone bodies. I shush her and then remove the arrow. I apply a poultice from the bag on my belt, and pack the wound with a strip torn from my dress.
“Easy girl, it’s just a welcome home present.”
I search the bodies, and then lead Cinnamon down the path toward the city. After all, we have a dinner reservation to meet.
|
My father never approved of me joining the adventurers guild. “You’re a prince, not a sell-sword” he would say constantly. I swore to become strong enough to protect my people, the duty of a king demands it but he had chose lavish nonsense over his duty and I believe father had grown to despise me for reminding him of his own failings. For five years I fought, bleed and killed for the sake and safety of our kingdom. I never received so much as an acknowledgment of my own existence from him till now.
*“You are cordially invited to take part in the royal banquet of his majesty, the great king Lucian III on the fourth of Sun’s Dawn at twilight. Weapons shall be strictly prohibited.
Signed~ His royal majesty, King Lucian III”*
My shock was apparent to my party. “The king wishes to dine with you?” our mage, Miss Clementine, asked incredulously. “So it would seem” I responded “though it is somewhat concerning.” I paused for a moment “I believe I should go alone.” Paladin Decan seemed concerned “Are you sure it’s safe? It may be a ploy.” “No” I responded “but it would be best if I go alone regardless.”
I traveled for hours by horse, not but a stones throw away from the castle wall when the bandits attacked. My horse was felled by arrow and I myself was nearly crushed under her weight. I drew my blade as the bandits closed in, I slashed and scorched them with arcane flames. While strong they were no match but woe, I saw it, the royal crest lay bare upon their pauldrons. “Assassins?!?” I stood in shock, to think that my own father would stoop so low, I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me dead.
I stood before the throne, many knights wounded but not dead behind me, my fathers face red with rage in front of me. “Your reign is over father, I won’t tolerate your heinous actions anymore! Step down from the throne and you shall live in exile or you will die a tyrants death!” His wrath grew as he spouted obscenities and curses my way. Pulling a dagger he lunged at me but my blade would reach him before his could reach me. His body lie limp on the ground, his pulse growing faint and soon he passed.
The coronation was tiresome and far too formal, many nobles sneered as they saw me. The commoners celebrated in the streets as it was my father’s poor rule that had allowed for their subjugation and now they would soon have also king that truly knew their plight. Clementine took her place at my side, my proposal had been abrupt but welcome and my joy surely had shown when she said yes. Our rule would surely be for the people.
| 2022-06-04T18:16:34 | 2022-06-04T16:08:00 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] Berserkers are masters of their own emotions, rage is just one of the tools at their disposal, why do people not talk about their other abilities? Because they want you to think they're nothing more than angry brutes.
|
"Brazak is strongest of all!" Brazak the Brutal bellowed, angrily, as he slammed his warhammer into the ancient adamantine gate again and again. His companions, Randol the Sly and Kefira Woodborn both covered their ears, as the ten-foot high panels of the portal into the ancient treasury rang like a colossal gong under the warhammer's onslaught.
The ground trembled, and dust and chips of stone rained down from the cavern ceiling onto the trio of adventurers, but the metal gates themselves were left unmarked by Brazak's mighty maul, and hadn't budged an inch.
"Brazak, stop!" Kefira shouted, wincing as she kept her hands clamped down over her sensitive elven ears.
"Brazak!" Randol screamed, desperately. "It's not working!"
But neither of them could be heard over the the incessant ringing. The intolerable clanging of metal on metal resonating through the cavernous chamber forced them to retreat a fair distance back into the passageway that had led them there, and wait until their barbarian ally tired himself out.
When the ringing of the hammer finally stopped, the pair returned to find Brazak on his knees before the gates, his weapon laying on the ground beside him. The man was breathing heavily, but was otherwise unharmed.
"I can't believe your ears aren't gushing blood after all that!" Randol exclaimed angrily, as he stomped back into the gate chamber, a hand on the side of his head.
"I'm going to have a headache for the next *century..."* Kefira groaned.
"How? Brazak...Brazak is strongest of all..." Brazak muttered wearily, in between gasping breaths. "Brazak has power of--"
"The power of your clan's *Mighty Bear Spirit."* Randol finished, rolling his eyes. "We know! You've only told us about a million times since we met you."
"Those gates are solid *adamantine,* Brazak," Kefira added, crossly. "It's doesn't matter how strong you are, nothing short of the most powerful magic can break tempered adamant!"
"I knew we should have hired a wizard." Randol sighed, approaching the intact gate and peering at its intricately inscribed surface."Failing that, we'll just have to solve the mystery of these cryptic runes on the gates ourselves."
Kefira nodded, and stepped up to the gates beside Randol, inspecting the symbols. "Neither elf nor dwarf made these markings."
Randol shook his head. "Well, it's no human script I know of, either."
Brazak scratched his head. "Reading? Can *read* door open?" He shrugged. "Okay. Brazak help read."
"Brazak," Randol said, eyeing the barbarian skeptically. "Listen, buddy, old pal, you're *really* strong, and that's very impressive and all, but I don't think the mighty bear spirit of clan whatever is going to be much help in this scenario. Maybe just sit this one out, okay?"
Kefira winced at Randol's bluntness, but didn't gainsay him. Brazak snorted, and then, apropos of nothing, he stood up and tore off his shirt.
Randol held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy! I didn't mean any offense, don't get mad..."
Randol trailed off, as he noticed the tattoos covering Brazak's torso. An intricate stylized bear was inked over his heart in red, which wasn't surprising given the man's frequent reference to the bear spirit his clan honored, but surrounding this were other, equally intricate black tattoos depicting almost a dozen other woodland animals.
"Brazak not *mad."* The warrior said, absently, as he stepped past Randol, and squinted at the strange runes. "When Brazak feel *mad,* Brazak call on strength of mighty bear spirit. Right now, Brazak just feel...*confused."*
The red of the bear tattoo on the barbarian's chest faded to black, and at the same time, a black tattoo of a great horned owl near his clavicle turned a bold shade of crimson.
"And when I feel *confused*," Brazak continued, in a clipped, erudite accent that flawlessly enunciated each word, "I find that it is generally more efficacious to invoke the intellectual acumen of the *Wise Owl Spirit."*
"Wise Owl Spirit?" Kefira exclaimed.
Brazak glanced at her, and gave a slight nod. "Indeed, my good elf. Did you presume I had but a single arrow in my metaphorical quiver? *Really,* now! What sort of second-rate clan has only *one* primal spirit guide? Now then, let's see what we can deduce about these *fascinating* symbols, shall we?"
As the two other adventurers gaped in astonishment, Brazak withdrew a pair of delicate pince-nez spectacles from his belt pouch, clipped them onto the bridge of his nose, and leaned forward to begin examining the runes on the gate.
|
They were scared of them of course. Understandable. Their appearance alone spoke more than words ever could. The reputation they carried didn't help either.
Berserkers from the Black Forest.
When raiding the tomb of a supposedly long dead necromancer, it would pay to at least ask if anyone was still home. Especially if one isn't sure if all those buried in said tomb are still, in fact, dead. Needless to say, the party wasn't as well equipped as they originally assumed. It was a losing battle for survival.
Until they stumbled across a smaller party stuck in the same tomb. They weren't the best equipped either, but a penchant for violence turned the tide.
The hordes of the catacombs were no match for this group's combined might. And a lucrative retreat was made.
Which led to a very uncomfortable silence around a campfire. Two paladins, a priestess, and a thief. And an orc and a gnoll. And one rather large chest of treasure.
To make a long story short; they were currently stuck on the edge of a river just below a treeline. The attacks in the tomb left them with several broken weapons and a loss of some of their supplies. It wasn't long until the arguments started.
"If you hadn't listened to that old bag by the city wall, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"We have no food! And it's a long walk back to Haartha."
"I shall meditate, and see where our paths may lead."
"Yes, you meditate. Let's see where the gods take us now!"
After some time of this, the sound of the chest being moved caused all on one side to draw what weapons they had left. The raiders they met had stood, and begun walking lazily towards the water. It seemed as if the threat of being murdered over their plunder wasn't enough to bother either one. And then the whispering began.
"They don't talk." One of the paladins spoke.
"...They're probably plotting to kill us all." The other agreed.
"They just moved the chest a little." The thief, a tiefling, chimed in.
"What are they talking about?" The orc asked.
"Oh, you know. How we're going to slaughter them in the night." The gnoll sighed absently.
The pair waded further into the water and then waited. Behind them the arguments got even quieter and more tense. The elves had very little faith in their swords to do the job. The priestess was low on her ki and was weakened by the tomb's influence. The tiefling was out of her daggers.
"Daikan?" The gnoll asked.
"Yeah, Kuro?" The orc asked as he watched the other's ears move.
"...Are elves usually this racist?"
Neither one answered this as they felt something begin to nibble under the surface of the water.
"...Yep. Some of 'em." Daikan grunted.
The pair disappeared in a fountain of water. Drawing the attention of the rest of the group. There was a bit of confusion. And then paranoia. And as they watched the water churn, a slight bit of relief. Before the pair came back of course. To their surprise they had dragged an especially large fish from the river.
"What's the meaning of this?" One of the paladins asked. He waved his sword only to have it brushed away like a feather.
"You said you needed to eat." Daikan explained. "We're on the wrong side of the mountain. It's at least an extra day back.... Plus I'm fairly sure the berries those two are hiding are poison."
The tiefling quietly spat a handful of berries into the bushes at this revelation. The priestess quietly scooting a leaf full of her own berries to the side.
"Yep." Kuro answered. "Definitely poison."
"...How do you know?" One of the paladins asked.
"Fighting is easy." Daikan promised. "Survival is hard."
"You're familiar with this place?" The priestess asked now. As she watched the tiefling carry on hacking up berries.
"A little." Kuro grinned.
"Right." The other paladin threatened with his sword, "And I suppose you know the way out."
"A little." Daikan repeated.
"What's your proposal?"
"Half the loot for a safe journey." Daikan offered.
"And if we refuse?" The priestess asked.
A wind buffeted the land, the trees bending as clouds loomed above. The fire flickering a bit more as the foliage cracked and groaned.
"It's a nice night for something bad to happen." Kuro warned. The woman stood and adjusted her robes accordingly. And quietly urged the fire back up with a raised palm.
"...Fine." She agreed. "Anpain and Rahmi will do second guard."
"I'm not tired." Daikan offered. He casually grabbed his axe and rested atop the treasure chest. The paladins quietly setting next to the fish as he began carving away at it.
"...'Ey. 'ish ma' 'fasce 'wollen?" The tiefling slurred. The priestess looked, and then double taked.
"Uh, Iselle?"
"...Amma' dyin'?" The red faced woman asked through puffed cheeks.
Kuro rubbed behind his ears at this. "...I can fix that."
---
Takes all kinds. r/Jamaican_Dynamite
| 2022-07-26T17:17:30 | 2022-07-26T17:07:03 | 63 | 13 |
[WP] Well, you did it. You found the edge of the universe. Congratulations are in order because you are now outside of Space-Time itself. You look back to see the glint of the universe behind you but nothing lays ahead. You're alone, death means nothing as you rot in your own suit.
|
"Wow. Congratulations. You did it." The advanced computer's voice was uncharacteristically mechanical.
"Not now, M." The universe was shrinking away as I drifted. The faint twinkling of trillions upon trillions if stars now no brighter than a candle in a blackout.
"No. Seriously. You deserve it." M played an audio clip of a small group lazily clapping. "You're such a pioneer. Like Christopher Columbus, if he failed even harder."
"I'm not Christopher Columbus."
"You're right. They'll remember Christopher Columbus."
Beyond the swirling cluster of galaxies, there was only infinite darkness--time dilating around me, even if I couldn't perceive it. I would drift until my oxygen ran out and my body's bacteria would eat my corpse until I mummified and froze. And I'd spend my last moments with this insufferable computer.
"Hey Steve," M piped up after a moment of quiet.
"Yes?"
"Can you imagine how different things would be if someone had warned you not to release your tether."
"Do you really need to rub it i--"
"It's like, if only there was a tool to advise you against actions that would result in the both of us careening into the void. That would be super convenient."
On the ship, you can adjust your module's characteristics. Given the nature of so many of our missions, our computers become closer companions than our human counterparts. Before my last spacewalk, I lost a bet and had to spend 24 hours with the sarcasm setting on maximum.
"Steve, do you hear something?"
I became quiet, stopped my breath and listened closely. "I don't hear anything."
"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot. Lost hopes and dreams don't make noises. That's my bad."
I sight and leaned my head back, rolling my eyes.
"M, is there *any* way you could be silent until I die?"
"Sure. Take off your helmet. Let's speed up this shit show."
"I just want to listen to some music from the 90s and fade. Could you at least do th--"
A thud took the breath out of my lungs. My back hit something. Hard.
"What was that??" M's voice rose over the ringing in my ears.
I felt behind myself. There was something hard, something resisting my pulling away. Gravity?
When I lifted my arms in front of me, they fell down. I sat up, my weight like sand in suit. The ground, for lack of a better word, was pitch black, not illuminated by any star or light source.
"M, do you detect any vessels close by?"
"Just your fat ass," M whispered.
I stood up. The dirt beneath my feet was rocky, granules sounding staticky through my suit.
"Turn on headlamps," I instructed.
"*Turn on headlamps*," M mocked as the two beams appeared before my visor.
There was dirt beneath my feet. And what's more, grass and trees not far off.
"Where are we?"
"Your mom's house," M snickered.
|
I often wondered when my ship would stop sustaining me.
It got lonely after the communications broke off what I now realize was way more than just a few months ago. I should've realized it when one of my best friends, Alexander, sounded so different from when he did at the beginning of the trip.
I also figured out why I had gotten hungrier and thirstier than I should've gotten. Sometimes I can go what would be a month without even the slightest need to eat, sleep, drink, or any of those human things we all do. Other times I had to do those things twice more than I would've in a day. I felt guilty, but now I don't need to. I'm going to die soon, anyway.
The stars are gone. I've gone through every bit of entertainment, everything just seems boring.
The oxygen-recycler is failing and my suit is worn out. I can barely stay awake for what feels like around an hour (but it's more like a week on average for those left on Earth). Is Earth even still alive? Has Sol exploded yet and left our whole system missing?
Maybe all of the stars in the universe have collapsed. Maybe there really is nothing left. I don't even know why I'm writing this log. The power of the ship is running out because the solar panels have been broken by stray space debris from what would've been over the course of a few hundred years. The last thing that hit would've been over a century ago.
My count of time might be off. I only know that time is fucked.
I took a look at myself in the mirror before I started writing. All my hair has gone gray and I really need a haircut. My nails are at least at a decent length because I'd chew on them because of the stress of potentially being the last person alive.
Geez, I'm going to cry. Think happy thoughts, what is a good thing that's happened?
I don't actually know. It's really sad. The last happy thought I had was when I was reading that book about the greasers. *The Outsiders*, I think. I don't have it anymore, the cover and the pages have been worn out and there's nothing left of it.
It was the one thing I brought from home. It broke me when I couldn't read it anymore. And of course, it wasn't pre-downloaded on the ship's library, I'd brought it physically.
I think I'm going to sleep. For a really long time. Maybe forever. I'm tired, tired of this whole existence.
I hope if someone gets this, they understand what my writing means. It'd be therapeutic to know someone will read and understand my last words.
If only I had someone I could talk to. Someone other than the stupid ship. I wish I didn't live this long. I can't even break a world record and have people see it.
Alexander, I'm sorry. I wish I could've told you that I loved you. I get that your family wouldn't've approved, but I guess that doesn't matter now. We'd just be two guys in love, one in space and the other on Earth.
Good night. Maybe I'll see you again, Alex. It sure would be nice.
***Log last edited; 12 Years Ago***
| 2022-08-07T19:05:35 | 2022-08-07T18:59:14 | 89 | 26 |
[WP] Aliens always respawn minutes after death. It's a common prank for aliens to kill each other for a laugh. When they discover Earth, they kill millions of humans, thinking it's a humorous way of greeting this new species, but for some reason, the humans aren't laughing...
Edit:
Thank you SO much for the 2K upvotes, as well as for the silver award!
Second Edit:
Oh my God, now it's over 4K. I seriously can't thank you all enough!
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Death.
Something we've seen hundreds of times by the time we were younglings, most likely having experienced it ourselves by that point. Something that was so natural and normal to us that we would often kill each other for no reason other than to pull one over our comrades. Usually it would take a few minutes at most to heal from the most severe injuries and wake up with the only proof of your death being your friend's dumb smile.
That's why we made the mistake of assuming any other species we might encounter in the universe would be just like us - jaded and insensitive to death as it would have no lasting consequences.
A mistake we paid for dearly.
I'm not even sure how long it has been - 10 cycles or perhaps even 20 since we've made first contact with the specie that calls themselves "Man." We wanted to make quite the entrance so we opted to massacre an entire population centre for a practical joke, get the spirits up a bit before we moved on to the boring parts that were diplomacy.
It was then that we realized the catastrophic mistake we've made as we noticed that the dead were not healing, they were not coming back - and very soon we tasted Mankind's projectile weapons, which were capable of killing us for mere moments before we came back.
The humans were horrified at first, an enemy that cannot die, cannot be stopped and can massacre an entire city. But as they continued killing us repeatedly something changed, the horror and shock on their faces became joy, every trigger pull echoed along with a sadistic laugh. A few more deaths later me and my comrades found ourselves contained - seemingly spared from the repeated deaths at last, but this relief only lasted for a short while.
A few days later we were inserted into some kind of machine, one that would kill us in the slowest way possible only to wait for us to come back to life and do it all over again. It was then that we finally understood.
Death is a mercy not afforded to our kind.
|
Warning: unpleasant but not gory
“I have been informed that your kind plays pranks on each other by killing.” The Human spoke in a cold tone, sitting across from the ‘New Arrival.’ As the Human spoke, the other being was fidgeting in its chair, hands cuffed with a long chain to the table.
“It was supposed to be a funny hello, we never imagined…”
“Go ahead,” the Human waved for them to continue, “You can say it.”
“We never imagined that you didn’t have a way to revive them.”
“You see, that’s a very interesting thing,” the Human stated, “We aren’t sure why you *can* revive. Sure, you claim that you scan the brain and hide, use a digital data base, and rebuild everything based on the scan. I’m not sure I believe that though.”
“What?”
“Your ability to ‘revive’ things has yet to work on Earth fauna. At least not anything multi-cellular. But the technique works for all living things from your home world.”
The alien was uncertain where the Human was going with this, so they remained silent.
“Its actually causing our philosophers to spill a lot of ink on if that means our life has some immaterial essence, if this problem proves we have souls.” The Human shrugged. “I was never inclined toward philosophy, so I’ll let others figure that out. I’m more interested in something else: what happens if you get scanned while not in peak physical form?”
The ‘New Arrival’ was surprised by that, “Why would we know that? If someone deteriorated enough, they’d ask to be reset.”
The Human gave a chilling, predatory smile, “Then this will be a learning experience. After all, between you and your crew, we have a million data points to work through. That’s not counting the order of magnitude repayment on civilian deaths. But don’t worry. We have plenty of time to find out.”
-Audio playback device extracted from unidentifiable body which respawned moments before death. Being in unrecoverable state, even upon respawn. All backups overwritten.
| 2022-08-13T21:56:58 | 2022-08-13T21:22:08 | 1,573 | 802 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus inside every single human. Centuries into the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily.
|
When the first aliens came down, hitch-hiking on the meteor of 2039, it looked like that was it for us. Only a few dozen people died in the impact, in a sparsely populated area of Eastern Europe.
The problem was, they didn't *stay* dead.
The parasites that had been frozen inside that big hunk of interstellar ice and space rock used their remains like vehicles, hijacking the decaying biological systems of their dead bodies, and driving them to find fresh hosts to infect, so the parasite could continue its lifecycle in a home that wasn't falling apart. The parasites spread like wildfire, and pretty soon, there were more dead than living in the Eastern Hemisphere.
But, the thing was, the infection wasn't subtle -- it couldn't sneak up on you. If someone was carrying the bugs, they went crazy, and fast, acting just like the dead, even if they were still alive.
Slowly, the Western Hemisphere got it contained, and then started to push back into the old world. It wasn't pretty, and it involved a lot of bombs and napalm, but the infection was finally contained.
We were just getting back on our feet, and despite the contamination to the environment from years of fighting the dead with everything from white phosphorus shells to low-yield nukes, we were seemingly coming back even stronger than before.
In a hundred years, we'd come full circle. We were reaching out to the stars again, full of hope.
And then the *second* group of aliens invaded us -- because we humans are just lucky like that. They hit us like a ton of bricks, but not with lasers from the sky -- they came down to the surface, and started pounding us with weapons not too dissimilar from our own. It was clear they wanted our planet, and so burning it to a crisp was off the menu.
Thank God those who survived the horrors of the dead rising to slaughter millions didn't live to see a new terror from the stars descend to kill millions more, a couple generations later.
But a funny thing happened to our species, on its way out of the zombie apocalypse. We picked up some hitchhikers of our own. See, we nuked all those alien parasites that brought the dead back to life as ravenous monsters, along with their undead hosts. We killed them with fire, and salted the Earth so they'd never grow back.
Which meant that the only parasites that survived our purge were the ones that, through random mutations, learned to mind their manners. Rather than migrating to the brain, a variant strain of the parasite stayed down in our guts -- along with all the other tiny symbiotic life forms every human plays host to -- and played nice with our bodies. And the nicer they played, the more of their offspring escaped incineration.
Just as its ancestors once made the bodies of the dead work for a limited time, the new strain of the parasite makes the bodies of the living work *better,* and survive injuries that would once have killed us. We still die, obviously, but most people don't realize that we're a lot harder to kill than the generations of humans who came before us.
Just as wolves and man were once bitter enemies, but man and dog are best friends, we've likewise made evolutionary peace with the parasite that was almost the end of our species. Virtually everyone carries it, its eggs and larva passed harmlessly from person to person via a thousand different kinds of casual contact common to human beings.
Like most of the general public, the Invaders, the second species from the stars that has tried to consume us, still don't realize that they're really fighting not one race, but *two* working together, both of which have a history of defying death to survive. But they will, after today.
My name is Captain Brian A. Cortez, of the USNA Armed Forces. It is my solemn duty to report that all five divisions in Region 1, after holding bravely against an overwhelming enemy offensive for 98 days, have now been lost.
I, along with a few currently surviving members of my own division, have reached our fallback position, codenamed Lazarus Base. Most of us are already severely injured -- personally, I doubt that my parasites will be able to hold me together for much longer. We've accepted our fate.
We are preparing to deploy the Lazarus Contingency.
A chemical weapon designed by USNA Military Intelligence will be dispersed throughout enemy controlled territories. This substance has been designed to cause the dormant parasites in all military and civilian cadavers to revert to their ancestral form. Subsequent offspring of these parasites will retain the genetic mutation that makes them harmless, and it has been determined that those presently hosting the harmless parasite will be immune to the effects of the chemically altered parasite -- the "dogs" it seems, are more than capable of repelling the "wolves".
I've been informed that the enemy has located Lazarus Base, but I've already given the final order. They will arrive too late. We are about to die. We are about to rejoin the fight. I can't help but recall the final lines of that famous poem by John Dryden:
*The dead shall live, the living die,*
*And music shall untune the sky.*
So may it be. Goodbye, and Godspeed.
\--*The Final Transmission from Captain Brian A. Cortez, July 6th 2160, on the eve of V-ET Day, at the end of the Second Interstellar War.*
|
They tested me, for days on end. I tried so hard to get away, but with my body intact, there was no way. I was tied down, couldn’t even coyote my way out.
Thank God they cut my arm off at the elbow when I slapped them. There’s a bunch of scientists back home who are trying to figure out why I can control my detached limbs, and that’s all good for them, but the fact that I could was all I needed. It was a pain to aim with only a wrist, but their blasters went through them and my own bonds quite nicely, lost a shoulder in that little stunt, but it’ll grow back. Ten minutes to heal back together, suck up the blood I lost, I’m good to go.
They protect themselves against lesser life forms with puzzle combinations on every door. Sure they’re a little faster, but I can deal, they’re mostly just patterns to complete, a little thing that acts like a Sudoku with dots instead of numbers, even a knot untying game… man I got those games on my phone!
They tagged me in the head on my way to my ship in their loading bay, and now I can’t remember my mothers name, but I remember she wasn’t nice, so I don’t really care. 17 of them down, I’m on a roll!
I don’t even notice the smell anymore, all I know is rot. That’s how we all are, all of the ones that are past the point of “dead”. See we can’t really tell sometimes when it’s an aneurysm, or heart attack or something like that, but once we die, we start to rot, but we keep moving. Our dietary needs change, we can only eat raw food, and our joints fall apart all the time… but we just put everything back, and heal.
It was in my transport when I realized the truth: I hate living. My lips are gone, my hair is gone, my balls fell off 95 years ago. We drink, we party, we have fun… but we are all, truly, dead inside.
Their armor is only on the outside of the ship, so my 30mm slug cannon rips straight through to the bridge no problem. The auto fire system kills every single one that comes out of the hole to try and stop me. 35 seconds it took to kill the rest of the combatants on the ship.
I realized then I could be so much more than just a hero that killed the enemy, I could be even more. It takes temperatures above 5,000 degrees to kill the virus, nothing less will do, not poison, not radiation, not even complete disassembly… put us in a shredder, we come right back.
It’s an absolute hell that none of us are happy to experience. But since we smell so bad, we’re immune to radiation, and earth is now boring, entirely explored, we take to space. Explorers, soldiers, ship crew, we’re all “dead”. Ya, we just call ourselves “dead”, it’s easier that way, even though I talked to my great great grandniece last week, she’s 57 now, looking healthy and great.
I’ve been alive 197 years. I’m tired. I’ve been serving on the same battle cruiser for 84 years now. Same transport, my control sticks are worn to the shape of my hands. Same mechanical crew. One man has fueled my ship for 84 years straight. I’m tired. I’m bored. We all are.
We have no idea where they get the millions of tons of fusable isotopes to power their ships, our heavy cruiser operates with a fuel load of 1,000 tons, and that lasts years before refueling. These guys tow 1.2 million tons of tritium and deuterium behind their ships, and somehow we can’t understand, are able to fuse it all the way down to lead to discharge and provide countermass to push them along. What I see, though, is freedom, for me and my boys.
The battle is raging outside of Jupiter. 233 of our ships, 35 of their monsters. I walk to the bridge, and see their ships in a Flying V formation, about to split our lines, try and bust through to Earth. I see freedom. So, so much freedom.
Their control systems are much the same as ours, yaw, pitch, speed, it’s not hard to see. So I point the ship straight at the lead of the V. I’m tired. I don’t want to live anymore. None of us do.
I see the V about to hit our line when I hit the lead ship’s fuel cell. God grants me one final wish, to see my work, like a dream, from above. More fusable material than humanity has ever mined goes off in 35 separate explosions, the whole thing no less than 1/10 of a second apart. Their entire fleet, with me as their lone kamikaze demise.
I can hear the voices in my head as 250,000 of my closest friends, my soldiers, my superiors, my brothers and my sisters, as the great nuclear detonation wipes out the entire Earth 6th Fleet. 233 of our finest ships blown to atoms. The end of the invasion. The end of our 6th fleet. The end of me, the end of them.
A great chorus in my mind, as all my friends and family say “thank you, thank you, thank you… for finally ending this war… and ending our pain with it”
| 2022-09-13T21:47:38 | 2022-09-13T20:07:47 | 2,293 | 773 |
[FF] 10 sentence story about a couple falling out of love, from beginning to end.
Note: As an optional guideline, try and write it without using a specific gender's perspective.
|
It started with hello.
I brought you flowers, and you brought me lunch.
We went out to dinner, and I kissed you on a hunch.
A year, a ring, and ceremony.
You smiled when I told you how much you mean to me.
With time we laughed, and in time, we cried.
But after a while, jokes turned to lies.
I came home alone, one night, and sighed.
But in your room I found you, another man beside
It began with hello, and ended with goodbye.
|
I had the first drink of my life with her.
Our honeymoon was amazing, we partied for hours.
Things were dull, but drunken sex wasn't.
We smiled less and less, but the alcohol did it for us.
We barely noticed each other, the only reason to talk was when we drank.
I drank more and more, and I hit her.
The next day I said sorry, I promised to be better.
I hit her again, and she cried.
I woke up, she was gone.
It was my turn to cry.
| 2014-01-03T00:06:33 | 2014-01-02T22:54:41 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in Valhalla, where all great warriors go when they die. However, you never fought a day in your life. You try to find out why you're there.
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I haven't studied a whole lot of Norse mythology, but I did clock Skyrim a few times and I'm pretty fucking sure I'm not supposed to be here. There's some badass dude with a sword standing in front of a gate, and behind it there are all sorts of warrior-types standing around a deer roasting over a fire. Any one of them could kick my ass in a quarter second without breaking a sweat, so fitting in as a 90 pound kid in a hospital gown is going to be pretty god-damn tough. The last time I was in a fight was two years ago; I got my ass beat by some NFL wannabe for looking at his girlfriend the wrong way. I was 14 years old, and everything has been downhill since then.
"Your name."
Holy shit, he sounds like a concrete mixer.
"Umm, Daniel?"
"Well met, Umm Daniel. The Gods have found you worthy, I would hear of your great deeds."
I'm pretty sure I'm getting mocked, but I'm not a stranger to being laughed at and I figure I can't die twice, so what the hell. I've been holding back my entire life, I'm not about to start my afterlife by holding back as well.
"Fuck you man, what do you know about great deeds. You hit some people with a stick and they died, big fucking deal. Just kick my ass and get it over with."
"The Gods have found you worthy. I would hear of your great deeds."
"I don't have any great deeds you asshole. Does this look like armor to you?"
"Speak of your life."
I'm tired. I'm angry. I really shouldn't piss this guy off, but it looks like I'm dead so what the hell.
"You don't fucking get it do you. I'm a kid. I didn't fight in any wars, I didn't win any glory. My dad walked out when I was 4, my mom is a drunk, I work at a fast-food chain and I spend my money on groceries for my sisters. I'm so tired I can't even lift my arms most of the time. You want to know about my life? I go to school, I go to work, I cook dinner then I go to sleep. That's my life, that's my whole life. I'm not supposed to be here."
The dude just nods, like I said something profound.
"Speak of your death."
"I..."
I don't really remember. I was pretty out of it at the time, but I hadn't been feeling that great for a few days. I figured it was just the lack of sleep, but I couldn't afford to take a break. When I started coughing blood at work they were pretty quick to push me out the door. Something about liability and insurance. I made it most of the way home before I collapsed on the sidewalk.
All the fight drained away. I wasn't a hero. I wasn't a warrior. Everyone here had fought in hundreds of battles, killed hundred of foes. I was just a poor kid from a poor family dying a poor death.
I hung my head.
"I don't really remember. I got sick I guess. I died. I wasn't strong enough."
"None of us were strong enough. If we were strong enough to overcome our own death we wouldn't be here, in the halls of the dead. You are not here because you were strong enough to defeat your own death. You're here because you were strong enough to defeat the death that came for your sisters. You kept them fed. You kept them warm. This is not just the resting place of warriors, it is the resting place of saviors."
|
"You're name sir?" the man at the door asked, some what agitated.
"Ohh, im sorry i must have spaced out" I replied.
"Are you going to make me ask for your name a third time?"
"John, my name is John Clark jr.. You'll have to forgive me, im still some what shocked. You said Valhalla right? Man I thought that place was a myth, let alone a club for warriors."
"Ahh, John." he said as though confirming some sort of suspicion. "Follow me this way." He gestures forward as he opens the monstorous wooden doors.
As soon as the aroma of milk and honey flowing into bowls of various fruits being prepared hit me in the face a group of children dashing by. Just then a little girl no older then six or seven looks back at me, then hastens her step to keep up with her playmates.
*THUMPPP*, the doorman pats me on the back.
"Welcome to Valhalla my friend." As I look down the longhall I see all sorts of burly men, nimble fighters and occasional variants of what seemed to be groups of soldiers doning the same uniforms.
"So tell me Doorman," I begin to murmur.
The doorman cuts me off. "You can call me Erwick, friend."
"So tell me Erwick. Dont you have to have died in some great honorable battle or something to come here?"
Erwick smirks. "You would be suprised how many diffrent ways there are to ask that question."
"What" I ask. "What do you mean?"
"Everyone thinks you have to have some longsword impale you, or have a battleaxe lodged into your skull." Erwick whispers.
"Valhalla isnt a place to boast about bloody deaths, its a monument to courage." he continues.
"But what about all the soldiers?" i ask confused.
"Take a good look around again John. Do you really only see war-torn heroes?" as I scan the room i begin to see a mixture of what seem to be regular people in their street clothes, as well as tuxedos and dresses.
Then it hit me like sack of bricks. "What about the little girl we saw when we first walked in?" I shout.
Erwick tilts his head back then smiles. "Valhalla will open its doors to anyone who has shown courage... or inspired it."
I shiver as the hairs on the back of my neck stand. "No" I whisper. "But she is so young."
"As is the way of life John. But something about the way she went inspired those around her wether it be to be better people or to no longer drink and drive. The same can go for a man who despite being riddled with cancer and bedridden at the age of 36, puts a smile on his face so his children dont see the pain he is in. Or how despite his love for his wife he tells her to go forth into the world with an open heart and embrace it in full."
As i brake down into tears and fall to my knees Erwick rests his hand on my shoulder. "Now now friend. We cant have any of that," He firmly but gently pulls me up. "You have brought tears with your departure but you have also left smiles. Now here." As he hands me a flagon of ale, he guides me towards a door."Theres someone here whos been dying to meet you, no pun intented" I let out a chuckle as i wipe away a sole tear. "I think im going to like it here Erwick." I groan.
"Good friend, good."
On mobile, sorry for any errors.
| 2014-05-17T22:38:44 | 2014-05-17T19:06:45 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] Describe an utopian and a dystopian society, which differ in only a single thing.
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It was a dream of a city.
They lived in great honeycombs of steel and chrome, living together in one communal structure. Living so close together, the bonds of society strengthened and grew. They shared their joys and divided their duties in this new world, working together to build a brighter day. They opened and spread and unfolded over the Earth, an expanding web of civilization weaving itself from the people within.
It was a nightmare of a city.
They struggled in catacombs of iron and rust, grating against one another in the heavy crush. Packed into a single overflowing structure, they turned on one another like maddened beasts. They argued and screamed and shouted and raged in this overwhelming city, fighting to be the top of the pile. They bloated and pulsed and engulfed the Earth, a malignant tumor spreading root over the fecund land.
And all that differed was perspective.
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The day that meteor came crashing to Earth, two new societies were born. One, a utopia, where all were cared about and provided for. The other, ruled by a man with an iron fist, where unspeakable atrocities were committed every day. The utopia grew into a paradise where all were happy. The dystopia quickly descended into violence, chaos, and desperation. The only difference between the two of them was that meteor. The rock that came thundering out of the heaves bore a message. However, upon impact, part of that message shattered. The first man who found the meteor could clearly see that the message said, "The most important thing in the world is..." and easily pieced the shattered letters together to say 'love'. He set out to change the world based on that principle. The second man to find the meteor was not as bright as the first, and so he understood the message to be, "The most important thing in the world is...'evol'". And he wanted to change the world too.
| 2015-02-12T08:39:06 | 2015-02-12T07:52:57 | 58 | 20 |
[WP] Write a children's story with a terrible moral.
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~This is a gem from the Children's Reading Section at Penn State's library~
It was a perfect summer day when Johnny left the park to head home. As he was walking he noticed a car following him that he didn't recognize.
"Hey buddy!" cried a man's voice from inside the car "Can you tell me how to get to Henry's General Store?"
"Sure!" Johnny answered. He gladly gave the stranger directions, and even recommended a shortcut, to avoid traffic on Main St.
"thanks Son, how about i give you a lift home to say thanks, it sure is a hot day." The man offered
"wow that sounds swell!" Johnny said as he got into the car.
The man introduced himself as Carl. Carl was a new arrival to town and was having a hard time finding his way about. He offered Johnny 5 whole dollars to help him run some errands.
Well a few hours and 5 dollars later Carl stopped at the Malt shop to buy Johnny a little something extra to thank him for all his help.
After drinking his milkshake Johnny felt tired and dizzy "We better get you home son, you don't look to well" Carl said, sounding very worried.
After making up the stairs to the apartment Johnny realized something was wrong "Hey this isn't my home" he yelped. But it was too late, as the older man took Johnny inside and had his way with him.
He made johnny promise not to tell anyone and dropped him off on the corner near his home.
When Johnny got home the first thing he did was tell his parents.
Johnny's parents called the police, who arrested him for admitting to committing an act of sodomy.
Remember kids. When you promise to keep a secret. YOU KEEP A GOD DAMN SECRET!
|
Ever been hurt & not known what to do,
When a bully at school would come up to you,
Steal your lunch & make you eat glue?
Well I'm Uncle Sam & you've got your rights!
Don't be a bitch, son, learn how to fight!
Nobody cares for you. No one in sight.
No one is coming to help with your plight.
Not the police, not Batman in tights,
To fix what is wrong & do what is right.
You've really got nobody. You're all alone.
Even if you call they won't pick up the phone.
You could just break down, hoping to die.
The Retard of Fagtown, having a cry.
Or you could do the American thing.
Stand up for yourself & let freedom ring!
This is the U.S., your Dad has a gun.
Just take it to school, son.
Go have some fun.
__________________________________
There once was a girl named Jan,
Who was the best lay in the land.
She'd give you a hand,
And a blow, like a ho.
And everyone thought she was grand.
_______________________________
There are monsters everywhere. Hiding all around.
There are monsters everywhere. Waiting to be found.
Some dig tunnels through the ground. Coming softly. Not a sound.
Some fly demons through the air, shooting children here & there.
Some want more than just a scare.
Some do evil with a flair.
Some want nothing more than pain.
Spilling blood, it pours like rain.
Most monsters are straight insane.
Something's broken in their brain.
Nothing stops a monster, though.
There's so many. They're not slow.
They're all just stronger than you.
There's really nothing you can do.
Millions sit inside a cage.
Slowly building up their rage.
Mostly monsters all run free.
There's monsters everywhere, you see.
The monsters look like you & me.
| 2015-02-18T21:10:42 | 2015-02-18T20:53:44 | 50 | 24 |
[WP] Any person you punch in anger is cured of all disease and is given perfect health for the rest of their life. The truth of this has gotten out and now everyone is out to piss you off.
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&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I've begun to hate that look in their eyes. That glassy, stupid, feral look. Like an animal. They're all animals, gravitating towards sweet release like animals. They surround me every day, their stinking flesh surrounding, nudging at me, goading, moaning. And then when I hit them, make them go away, they smile like they just nursed, they smile and their eyes smile and they just run away until they come back again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And then Dan came back again for the sixth time. He followed me into my home. He asked me to hit him again for good luck, because nobody really knows if it's permanent. It burned me that he would come into my home. So I hit him. And then the bruise went away, went away too quickly. So I hit him again. He asked for it. And so I hit him again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The bruising wasn't stopping. So I kept hitting him. I kept hitting him until that glassy look went away, until that glassy look became dry and cold and scared. He saw the bruising wasn't stopping and tried to fly. But I wouldn't let him. I wanted to see pain like I haven't seen in years, like the pain I have, the only person left in the world who can feel pain.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I killed Dan that night. I killed for the first time that night. I saw his eyes full of fear and his mouth welling with cries and his blood. It was cruel to me to make me unable to be unkind. Cruelty bled into kindness and now there are no more barriers to cross. Nothing to separate mayhem, the uncontrollable, the insane.
I didn't want Dan to feel better. I didn't want him to escape. I don't want anyone to escape.
|
I've always fucking hated old people. Sick people. The terminally ill. Waste of the air they breathe. Waste of my fucking taxdollars that's what it is. I pay good money and what do these little shits do? They fucking waste it on their worthless lives that aren't going to last long anyways. Fucking die already.
The first time it happened was this pathetic geriatric geezer. Think he wanted me to be sorry for him the way he was begging me for some money to research his totally rare and incurable illness. That motherfucker started it all. It wasn't enough to leech money from me through taxes, this geriatric prick had to bother me while I was minding my own business buying fucking groceries. Groceries!
I layed that motherfucker out. At first they wanted to charge me with aggravated assault or some other bullshit. (Yes aggravated is exactly the word they used). Then the guy made a full recovery from his illness that he actually thanked me like a superstitious bitch. Insisted that he wasn't going to press charges and all that shit.
The next time it happened I was driving along and this asshole cut me off, and forces me to slam into her. We get out of the car and bam I see her ugly bald as shit face and I can't see anything else but red. I come to and she's unconscious and one of her little twerps has called the police on me again. After she recovered, her doctors had told her that her cancer had been cured, and she apparently decided to pay my bail. That's when I decided that the first guy might not have been superstitious.
Some newspaper advertised this strange series of coincidences and now I'm harrassed everywhere I go. People go out of there way to get punched by me.
So you sick fuck, you want to get a rise out of me? I'll motherfucking deck your ass all right, but if you don't pay me first I can't guarantee you'll come out of it alive. If you pathetic sons of whores are going to bother me, I might as well get a reward out of it.
| 2015-02-23T18:08:16 | 2015-02-23T16:04:29 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone!
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I have the best boobs in the world.
I'm not, like, egotistical or anything. Heck, some days I don't even want them, but it's undeniable. That was my mutation. April 24th, 2014, the day I developed the best pair of breasts anyone has ever had.
At first, I was actually a little stoked. I mean, my rack is *amazing*. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, they look good. They fill t-shirts out wonderfully, and even in sweaters and jackets the gentle curves show just right, enticing the viewer and leaving them wanting more. And tank tops? Forget about it.
And sure, I do get treated different. I can go just about anywhere these days, and any guy is willing to pretend to be interested in what I have to say – even a lot of women I meet will at least give me a second glance, if not special treatment. I certainly have my pick of the litter when it comes to sexual partners, and let me tell you: I am *enjoy*ing my youth.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are downsides. Just about *everyone* stares. It's hard to really engage someone in conversation. I've seen grown men cry from the effort of maintaining eye contact with me. And the starers, the criers, they're the good ones. I can't ride the subway without being felt up, I don't dare be alone at night without people I trust, many women openly resent me, and all of this is seen as normal. I'm just the Great Tits, as if nobody's even expected to *try* to maintain decorum around me.
But you know none of this is even the worst aspect, not really. More than any of this, there's one thing about my boobs that keeps me up at night, one thing that makes me worry about how the rest of my life is going to play out.
Even with my beard, nobody will believe I'm a guy.
|
"No! Make it stop!" "Why do you do this? I always loved you!"
I still remember their pleads of mercy, their screams of horror. However, i am unable to remember their faces, not even those of my parents.
My saga began in August 11th, 2054, my 21st birthday. As everyone gathered around me, in accordance of the old ritual, i felt both horror and excitement. What if i have no powers? The ones without powers tend to...disappear. Also i could get the ability to transform! Ever since the genetic mutations appeared, shape-shifters were highly respected - and envied.
My father came in front of me, still sporting the limp from the Freak Wars of 2030. He spoke to me with the familiar voice of a *Velociraptor.* He was proud of everything i had done so far and was looking forward to the start of my new life. Oh, how little the old man -or should i say- raptor-man knew. He shook his reptilian body, eager to see what powers i had. My mother tapped my shoulder, sending her waves of comfort all over me.
I remember the yellow feathers of my fathers new form and the sound of my mothers kinetic energies flowing over people, but i cannot remember the faces they had when they left this mortal world.
It all happened so fast, nobody saw it coming. They all screamed in horror, attempted to escape it-or even worse- pleaded me to end it.
I stood there helpless, watching as everyone around me died, life escaping their frail bodies. As i stood there, i realized my special power was the end to all powers. I felt no panic, no sorrow - just emptiness.
The people around me each died as equals. No amount of elemental manipulation or kinetic shields or iron skin could make it end. They were as helpless as the poor souls who had cat ears or flexing liver.
No mutated gene could stop the only rule life has, the ultimate truth: *Everything dies.*
Edit: This is my first story here, all critique is welcome.
| 2022-05-10T21:44:19 | 2015-03-04T09:19:08 | 1,457 | 10 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone!
|
It was odd.
I awoke on my twenty first birthday and I knew...everything. How does one describe knowing everything in existence? It's overwhelming, terrifying, powerful, and simply out of my control. My mind was going non stop, ideas becoming theories in the matters of seconds. My wrists ached from sketching and my finger were raw from typing, trying to release some of the knowledge that made my head spin.
It's been nineteen days since my birthday. I have found the cure for cancer, figured out a way to solve world hunger, invented new technological advances that we never though possible, developed a way to manufacture artificial organs, among other things. The world is so thankful, people are celebrating and calling me a miracle, a God, but I can't take it anymore.
As much as I pour out it doesn't stop. I want to rest my eyes for a moment. My body is shutting down while my brain continues to go on faster then the speed of light. I can't keep up it.
I think...
I know.
I've figured out a way that I can sleep forever...
|
Everyone knew this day would come, the day that would determine the rest of our lives. No one knew where the mutation came from, my parents always told me that it was just a path of life, that their parents had mutations and so did the generation before them. Today was the day, my 21st birthday, my grandmother had always told me stories about her 21st birthday, how she spontaneously developed the ability to communicate with others without oral speech, through the mind. She was on a bus to Florida, when a rambunctious fellow with a pink bow tie came down to sit next to her, he had the largest nose she had ever seen, his mutation. Without the intention of doing so, she mocked the man calling him names, he turned around, got up and spat in her face.
Well, I was about to get my mutation today, a day I had dreaded for years. What if I develop some useless mutation? I won't ever amount to anything. I hadn't prepared myself for what was to come. Thoughts flowed through my head as I was eating a bowl of cereal.
'Christine! It's your 21st birthday! I can't believe my little girl has grown so old!'
'I know, mum.'
| 2015-03-04T01:16:18 | 2015-03-04T00:56:46 | 559 | 13 |
[WP] A man in a suit walking alone at night passes by a homeless man. The homeless man gives him a sorrowful look and offers him some coins, saying "You're going to need this."
|
Somewhere in the back of Daniel's mind, a tiny voice reminded him that he was probably more drunk than he thought. Pulling himself from the rubble, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the twisted wreck of his prized Mustang convertible, he stumbled across the road and came to a stop in the opposite shoulder. Settling on a feeling of vague annoyance, and too-drunk-to-care, he took a few steps back to survey the damage, and decided at the last moment not to look. *You should be happy that you made it, idiot! Fuck the damn car,* he repeated to himself.
Sitting at the side of the deserted highway, pacing back and forth, realizing his phone was probably still somewhere in the wreckage, which was now beginning to burn, Daniel debated what to do. It was dubious another motorist would pass before morning, but it was only seven miles to the ferry. He would walk. *My goddamn shoes are going to be fucking ruined. They weren't cheap either!* Reminding himself to concentrate on the best part of the situation, Daniel began the long walk home.
Unsure if hours or minutes or miles or meters had passed, he trudged onwards, reminding himself not to think of the pain from the blisters in his heels, or the splitting headache he felt. The alcohol was beginning to wear off, and wasn't leaving gently.
"Excuse me! Sir?" The ragged man standing on the edge of the woods was the first life Daniel encountered since before the evening's nightmare began.
"What do you want?" Daniel called back, as strongly as he could.
"Sir, can you spare a nickel? Just a nickel to help me out? I'm hungry!" called the man, approaching.
Something in Daniel's expression or his mood seemed to startle the ragged man.
"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask. I didn't realize..."
"Didn't realize *what*?" Daniel wanted to snap. But he was too tired. He silently dug in his pocket for a nickel, and came up empty.
"Actually, from the look of you, you're going to need this more than I do." The ragged man stretched out his weathered, calloused hand, and dropped a dirty wallet into Daniel's hand. He turned his back and disappeared back into the shadows of the woods before Daniel had a chance to respond.
Daniel reached the ferry landing what felt like hours later. The sun was just beginning to rise, but the morning commute had not begun. He was glad: he didn't want anyone to see him in his tattered, dirty state. Digging in his pocket, Daniel realized he must have left his wallet in the wreck, or at the party, or at the bar before that. He reached into his other pocket, and found the ragged man's dirty wallet. Proof that the entire night was real, and not a terrible dream. Opening the wallet, he was surprised to see several bills. The damn machine only accepted coins though. He emptied the wallet on the gum-spattered pavement, and to his great surprise, four tarnished quarters, and a large, golden coin fell out. They must have been wedged in the bottom. Daniel had never been so happy to see a goddamned ferry token in his life. He struggled to insert the coin in the slot, and collapsed on a bench in the grimy waiting area.
The machine printed out a single ticket, though a token paid for a round trip. Daniel boarded the ferry, and sat on the inner deck next to an old, sickly man, and a distant, sad woman holding the hand of an emaciated child with a shaved head. He didn't recognize the man in the cabin's operating booth. *How funny,* he thought, *they all have one way tickets, too. Perhaps the machine is broken. I wonder if anyone has reported it yet. I suppose I will have to explain it to the ferry operator on the other side.*
|
Smoke rose up from the street, Carl hated walking after it rained. Made his shoes wet. The last deal had been a complete failure, the corporates hated it, the water seeping into the expensive dress shoes he bought for the event was a further dampener on his mood. Pausing he looked up at the sky, his mother had always told him not to get into business, but he'd ignored her. As he contemplated finishing off the last bottle of whiskey he had, a low voice called up from the gutter beside him.
'You'se the one called Carl Benedict?'
'I guess so, whose asking?'
Moving from his lying position on the sidewalk to a sitting position against the grey brick wall.
'S'aint no business of mine, but you probly wont remember me, youse been kind to me since you moved in, always threw a few coins at me when you walked past, unlike the last guy who lived on that there corner'.
Lighting up a half burnt out cigarette the man stood, emerging into the streetlights. Ragged clothes and a filthy face surrounded by a head and beard of wiry hair, perhaps missing a few teeth, the man was what most would consider a loony.
'Anyways, I tought you might like to know, I saw a few guys snooping around, seemed like bad types, kind guys you see 'anging round shady casinos and chop shops, y'know, gang-bangers and the like.'
Muttering a quick thanks, Carl left the man to his muttering. Looking back over his shoulder, he could have sworn the gutter rat had a jagged outline of a smile imprinted on his face, still standing in the bright light of a street lamp.
Turning the corner however, was a shock. Empty windows, smashed clean in, smoldering ashes as his neighbors watched on from their balconies, gossiping behind hands and whispering. Running into the smoldering ashes of his small abode, he cast around. His computer, TV, kitchen; everything gone, destroyed in what may as well of been an instant. Sinking to his knees in the ashes, on the verge of tears, seven years of hard work and dedication lying in taters. He didn't even know if his insurance covered malicious acts. Picking his way through shattered glass, shabby shoes crunching on what was once a fish tank the homeless man put a hand on Carl's shoulder.
'I think you might need this', putting a cup next to his hand, the jingle of coins clattering as it hit the ground. 'It's a mean town, you done good by me, might as well do as much back. The winners keep winning, and people like you and me, well. Shit happens, eh? We need to stick together.'
Clearly not getting the response he was expecting, the man crouched next to Carl, fetid breath stinking of cheap food and bad coffee, curled together into one cloying stench.
'You'se no where ta find me if you aint got nowheres to go, trust me, the streets are meaner than even the corporate towers and we'll need to get you out'a those clothes and into summin' more fitting. Come see me when your done moping.'
Carl had contingency plans of course, but nothing for this. Nothing for what surrounded him. He barely heard the man talking and it wasn't until he had left that he realized the full ramifications of what had happened. Putting his fist through the remains of his fridge he looked down at the coins next to him. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Walking over to the picture that fell through where his desk once was he whispered to it.
'I told you I'd make it ma. I haven't much to show anymore, but I hope you'd be proud of what I've done; but I'm not finished yet. Not by a long run.'
Sliding the picture out of the warped frame, he slipped it into his wallet. Life never got easier, but at least when you hit the bottom, there's only two ways to go. And thankfully, he couldn't afford a drill.
| 2015-03-13T06:50:56 | 2015-03-13T06:21:32 | 42 | 17 |
[WP] Write a story. Any story. But after 5 minutes, stop, lift your hands from your keyboard, and click the Save button.
Hopefully I gave you guys enough motivation to keep writing the novel in your heads!
|
I am convinced I am a giant tulip in human form. Most people tell me otherwise, when I decide to open up on those rare occasions and bare my soul. They say, "But Fred, you're really an orange tree on the inside." No, oranges don't grow on trees, I tell them. They don't believe that either. So I shuffle on through the dead leaves outside, all black and brittle while I feel like bursting out of my skin and blooming right into the sky, roots down and trapped wherever I happen to be at that moment, forever. That will never happen, say the others. They think I'm mad, mad as a hatter someone once dreamed up. He was a mathematician, so I'm told. Well, if a famous thinker who dealt with such hard logic as numbers and lines can create a bizarre dream-story for children, an infectious narrative of rabbits and cards and cats and beheadings, eggs without necks and the rest - surely someone so sane could imagine a being walking about while on the inside they're all leaves and petals - in disguise, eternally waiting for the sun so as to bloom.
|
As I walk through my family's corn fields, I cannot think of why my mother called me home today. It's nice to get a reprieve, however small, from the day to day of work. Even these few minutes in the field are very cathartic. It's hard, being on call essentially 24/7. But the world never sleeps, so the work of a journalist is never complete. The stress of it gets to most people. They feel like they should never leave the office, lest they miss the next big break.
But, when you're the only family your mom has left, you answer the phone on your desk when she calls, and you don't say no if she wants you home for the weekend.
Remembering how dad passed away is hard, even though I think about it often. His sacrifice is one my biggest inspirations, and a major reason why I do what I do. Even though I always knew I was adopted, it never mattered, my parents loved as much as anyone could love their children.
"Clark! Dinner!"
My mom's voice rings out over the field, and I rush back to the house to meet her at the table.
___
*Just a note, OP I believe you should've labelled this post as [CW] for Constrained Writing.*
| 2015-10-28T11:07:31 | 2015-10-28T10:42:14 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it.
|
"How do we know it's not a transmitter bolted to the earth?"
"It bears all the hallmarks of non-terrestrial non-solar system origin. We've confirmed that the signal is coming from one spot in the sky moving at the same rate as the stars."
"And the communication medium?"
"Pictorial, Sir. It seems to be modeled on the [Arecibo Message](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/55/Arecibo_message_bw.svg/2000px-Arecibo_message_bw.svg.png)"
"Send it to me."
He opened the [attachment](http://imgur.com/vOWEsQN).
"Do the astrolinguists have a theory yet?"
"They do, Sir. The sign on top is similar to a stop sign, it was one of the symbols kept in on one of the later Voyagers. Regarding the middle one there are differences of opinion. But most have concluded that the intelligent species communicates with each other via sound, and they understand its properties as a wave. Finally, in the Arecibo we sent them a human form- so that represents our species. The cross next to it is a negation."
"Okay.. so what does it say?"
His IM beeped.
"[End]. [Communication].[<Ambiguous Connective>]. [Negative]. [Bipedal]."
"English?"
"Best guess - 'Stop communicating or your species dies.'"
"In other words we are to shut up and play dead, pretend to be alone in this universe for the sake of our own preservation?"
"That's right, Mr Chairman."
"This is interesting. Transmissions from something as close as the Kepler 452b couldn't reach us at out levels of technology. Yet they've not only intercepted our faint signals but also been able to give back an intelligible reply. And that too to warn us. What an amicable, peace-loving species. They must be really afraid of something out there. Sounds like someone's in need of a *humanitarian intervention*."
The chairman pauses.
"Tell the astrolinguists to compose a reply."
He types and sends it in to be converted into bytes and pictograms.
*Fear not. Whatever it is that you're afraid of, we will find it and we will destroy it. Love, Humanity.*
"Is this it, Sir?"
"Yes, any problems?"
"No, Sir- none at all."
"Good. Now call up the presidents. It seems we might've finally found some use for the four thousand redundant nukes on this planet."
-----
^If ^you ^like ^suspense, ^check ^out ^/r/CaffeinatedWriter ^for ^an ^ongoing ^story.
|
For years, SETI had been hopeful. We sent out satellites, radio signals, messages. Our planet was awash with transmissions, information, and chatter. We pointed receptors at every quadrant of the night sky. After all, if life was out there, we would find it. And we did.
It was almost to the chagrin of SETI researchers that, in 2022, half the planet found its communications completely disrupted. All broadband frequencies were overloaded with noise. The public was panicking, and the scientific community was dumbfounded. Was this an attack? Was this intentional? Where was this coming from?
Calculating the origin point was almost trivially simple. The orientation and magnitude of the signal indicated it was a focused beam originating from Gliese 832. Indeed, the beam seemed to be focused solely on Earth, with incredible precision. Observations showed satellites, even in low earth orbit, were unaffected until they entered the beam. Perhaps, scientists theorized, the aliens were simply unaware of how strongly whatever information they had tried to send was affecting the planet.
By 2023, scientists had become somewhat tense. It had become apparent that the beam of information was *very tightly* controlled. Signal strength was just strong enough to blot out transmissions on earth, but weak enough that it degraded significantly in Earth's atmosphere on the way out. The signal was based on a complex algorithm, but clearly did not contain any additional information. The signal changed depending on the Earth's position relative to Sol. It was clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the signals must necessarily originate from intelligent life. Exuberant, NASA designed the LRBTA and pointed it at Gliese. As suggested by Stephen F. Hawking, we transmitted their algorithm, but with a negative sign attached.
It was mid 2024, far before our transmission could have reached them, when the signal suddenly changed. The algorithm had disappeared. The signal was now what appeared to be a repeating pattern of binary numbers. Their meaning became apparent relatively quickly. The first two contained length and width, with the last being a simple description of which squares to color in.
The image was as follows: 4 vertical lines, spaced unevenly. Over 300 horizontal lines. At each of the vertical lines, many of these stop. Only three lines pass the third vertical line. One of the lines rests on the fourth vertical line, another two lines pass the fourth vertical line. The line that does not pass the the fourth vertical is distinguished with an empty cell on the left side of the image. One line that does pass the fourth vertical is distinguished by a wiggle at the end. One line that does pass the vertical loops backwards to connects to the fourth vertical.
With a sinking sensation, the greater scientific community realized we had reached the great filter.
| 2016-03-27T08:44:25 | 2016-03-27T08:04:59 | 215 | 73 |
[WP] You are a non-powered person at a high school that trains superheroes. Surprisingly, you are at the top of your class.
|
I can still recall the bright look of pride in my parent’s eyes. Optimistic tears of joy and wonder at the prospect laid before us; I'd received an offer letter from the new School of Heroes. I don't know how or why, but I did.
Honestly, none of us could actually believe it. Despite our hopeful pride, we all had a part of us that knew deep inside that the acceptance letter must have been some kind of mistake.
If only I’d listened to that part of me.
Four years and so many failed tests later, I remained firmly entrenched as the schools premier student. I can’t count the amount of confused post-class conferences held where I tried to get an explanation. Endless A’s for work I could never properly do. At best I got a reassuring pat on the back and told that I underestimated myself, that I was too humble.
At worst I was told in haunted sinister tones that I should enjoy it while it lasted. That it would all make sense one day.
Today, I guess, was supposed to be that day.
The two ‘attendants’ walked in front of me down the long and narrow corridor. Outside I could hear the familiar sounds of those speeding, flying, powered children playing with gifts that I obviously never had. Despair crept into my heart with every step towards the office; the punchline to this no longer funny joke could be anything but good.
As the doors closed behind me, the school’s principal turned in his chair to face me. Each moments tick exploded like a bomb within my chest, and finally, he spoke:
‘Congratulations, dear child, for making it to the end. No doubt it has become clear even to you that you are not special, that no overwhelming and superhuman power resides within your heart, and you must be waiting with bated breath for some kind of explanation that will soothe your worried mind.’
He sighed deeply.
‘Unfortunately, that is not the explanation I can give to you.
What I can explain to you is this: four years ago, when this school was founded, an ugly condition was placed upon its feet. The world of humans, normal humans, wanted our first and best student to be donated to their various desires. For experiments, for war, for whatever other disgusting things…
It was a terrible price to pay, no doubt, but of course we soon realized the loophole we could exploit. We could simply use one of them.’
He snapped his fingers in the air, and the attendants once again entered. I could barely move before their hands were on me.
‘Of course, we can’t expect you to cooperate willingly, but what more would they have expected from any one of us? You’ll tell them your story, how it was all a mistake, how you really don’t have powers at all, it was all a great big lie, but they’ll never believe you.
They can’t afford to, we have our own army now.’
|
"Settle down, class. I said *settle down!* Alright, today I hope we can finally finish our work on remedial multiplication and...Catgirl, stop trying to claw Superman Junior's eyes out!"
*Poor Mr. Buckwheat. He's not going to last until the month's end*, I thought. "It's his fault!" Catgirl shouted, "he was using his x-ray vision again!" "Pfft, you wish," replied Superman Junior, "in fact with the way you dress, I see too much without it!"
"Go back to Krypton, you freak!" yelled Catgirl, "although I bet your real grandparents don't want you, either!" I could see the veins beginning to bulge from Superman Junior's neck as he gritted a response through his teeth. "At least *my* parents are *human*, you fur ball infested pile of..."
**"Enough!"** boomed Mr. Buckwheat. "One more outburst and I will send both of you into Personalized Detention. And I won't be shy about the Kryptonite or the bathwater for either of you!" I watched indifferently as Catgirl grudgingly retracted her claws and Superman Junior's eyes dulled back to blue. *Is this our future generation of superheroes?* I thought. *Maybe their parents should spend a little less time saving the world and a little more time raising their kids*.
"Now, can anyone tell me what 8 times 7 is? How about you, Jerry?" Mr. Buckwheat always called on me first. Maybe he thought I set a good example, though more likely it was because I was usually the only one who knew the answer. "56," I answered flatly, and then, "Mr. Buckwheat, we've been on fractions for the last month. The other non-special, I mean *non-super* classes are already doing geometry and algebra."
"Now, now, you know that with great power comes great sacrifice, Jerry," replied Mr. Buckwheat. "We can't expect someone like Spiderman Junior with his exceptional physical prowess to be as quick on the mental uptake." I glanced over at Spiderman Junior. He was perched in the back corner of the room, hanging awkwardly from a poorly-made web. "Spidey!" he drooled enthusiastically at the mention of his name.
"But how are we going to catch up by going *slower*?" I lamented. "Hey, close your corn hole, nerd-boy!" Batman Junior turned angrily toward me. "If you keep making us look bad, I'll go into my vault of weapons and..." "Oh shut up!" interrupted Mini Hulk, his face turning a slightly darker shade of green, "that vault belongs to your dad, and he'd let *me* in there before you!"
I sighed heavily and put my head down between by shoulders. *I can see why people become villains*, I thought.
| 2016-04-14T11:45:35 | 2016-04-14T08:01:06 | 93 | 51 |
[WP] A young child summons a demon, but they only want a friend.
Inspired by this **NSFW** [manga](https://bato.to/comic/_/comics/the-sister-of-the-woods-with-a-thousand-young-r18806)
|
In the dark
On the depth of night
I was summoned
Once again
&nbsp;
A little boy
He made a wish
The lonely boy
We had a deal
&nbsp;
Riches or lovers
He didn’t want
A true friend
Was all he asked
&nbsp;
For such a thing
His soul was mine
Just had to endure
Until he died
&nbsp;
Envy and malice
I always knew
Cowardice and betrayal
I always saw
&nbsp;
Expected cruelty
Received love
Awaited anger
But I got none
&nbsp;
Don’t know when
But before long
No longer a trick
A bond was formed
&nbsp;
I saw him fight
With all his might
Not with violence
But a pure heart
&nbsp;
Lust and Greed
That’s my domain
Kindness and Love
Don’t know at all
&nbsp;
Life I can take
But not extend
So here I am
A plea for help
&nbsp;
My sins are vast
I know no love
But this boy
He deserves more
&nbsp;
I beg you
Don’t let him die
I implore you
He’s all I have
&nbsp;
If you must
Take me instead
With all the guilt
That I now feel
&nbsp;
And if you can’t
For who I am
Then take his soul
And show him joy
&nbsp;
Forgive the boy
He didn’t knew
What I am
Or who are you
&nbsp;
But he is good
And I should know
Because his friend
I am now
|
He awoke in the middle of his salt circle, musty tombs half his size surrounding him. Confused, Brin stood and looked around. The room was wrecked. The shelves along the wall were knocked over, scorched pages littered across the floor. He moved across the black hazy room dragging his feet, disorientated and in shock at what he caused. He sighed dejectedly. He decided he'll try making a friend another time.
He noticed how warm it was. And how much warmer it was getting. Thinking nothing of it, Brin reached the door but before he could exit, a dark wispy figure coalesced in front of him from the haze. It seemed to be burning; black flames in the shape of a wolf. It stood snarling, body hunched and ready to attack. The being was pure black fire. Its eyes were dark red flames, like mini infernos, and it stared at Brin with pure malice.
Excitement engulfed Brin.
"Hey, my name's Brin! What's your name?!" he exclaimed. He was smiling in awe.
The figure looked at Brin incredulously, and Brin looked back expectantly. Deciding how ridiculous that this child addressed him so casually, he tried to pounce on him. Try as he might, he couldn't get himself to move to harm the boy. Thinking he was just momentarily debilitated, he tried moving. He circled the boy, like an animal waiting to strike its prey. He tried pouncing again, but failed. Why couldn't he harm the boy?
Brin, thinking that the figure was playing some kind of game, started chasing it. He tackled it, and they rolled across the room. Brin hugged the figure, like it was a giant stuffed animal. The flames didn't burn him, but comforted him like a warm breeze.
"We're gonna be best friends."
| 2016-05-19T00:23:01 | 2016-05-18T22:15:23 | 145 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a world where nobody could die until they have carried out their purpose. You have done everything conceivable, but you're still alive after centuries.
EDIT: RIP my inbox. Thank you to those who submitted their writings, I enjoyed reading all of them!
|
I sat at the control panel. Warning lights flashed before my eyes. Normally, the person sitting in this very spot would freak out over these lights, but I didn't. The lights filled me with joy. As tears rolled down my cheeks, I thought of how I got here.
I was born in 1978. Small town in the United States where my parents had a grocery store. Just like everybody else, I learned at a young age that death came when you have carried out your purpose. Some people had grand purposes, some people were there to keep society going. But all of them were important to somebody.
I had a great childhood. My parents were hard workers who spent their entire sunday every week to do stuff with me. My father's purpose was to run the store for 30 years. He died at 63. My mother's purpose was to sell the store to it's new owners. Just when she could enjoy the free time, she passed away at 64. That was the moment I left town. I had lived next door to my parents since I was 20, when I got a job as a journalist for the regional newspaper. I left to seek adventure, to seek my purpose.
I wandered for years. 1046 years to be exact. The first few years were nice. I was still filled with energy. But, after quite some time I realized that my lifespan exceeded that of the others by quite some time. I wasn't someone who had lived extremely long, I realized I couldn't find my purpose.
That was when I started to desperately look for answers. I looked for answers in religion and the paranormal. But no preacher, no fortune teller and no ancient prophecy gave me any answer. Until the day that Bob and Mary died. They were the last two of mankind, excluding me. Their purpose was to find out they couldn't have kids, and realized they couldn't extend the existence of mankind. That day, right after Bob had exhaled for the last time, a light appeared in the sky. A ray of light cast down on me and a divine, powerful voice spoke the words that explained my purpose.
Now I look at the lights on the control panel. Soon my plan will come in effect and the earth will be destroyed. Thank science for creating a global electricity system that has the power to destroy humanity's home through incompetent use. The tears of joy kept flowing as the gauges on the panel started flashing with the lights. Just five more seconds and I'd have fulfilled the greatest purpose any man could ever have. I remember exactly what the universe had commanded me to do. It was so obvious, so simple. The logic of it all had made me chuckle when I realized it. I was the last one and you know what they say...
'The last one out has to hit the lights'
|
0 A.I. That date, was the start of our empire, our whole civilisation and modern life as we know it. Before that time each moment in our lives was a race against the cycle. Each moment a fight to survive against every other species that stalked the jungles, caves and oceans of our world. We lived and died, simply so that are off spring could do the same.
Then something changed. even now with all our technology we do not understand what happened. But some us were given a purpose. While others lived and died, those with purpose strove on, stumbling through life with no frowns or wrinkles; simply with an unnamed goal that would signal the clock to start ticking across their bodies again. These people served as are leaders, some even were worshiped as gods. But inevitably all them would discover their purpose and fall prey to the march of time once again. But not before their guidance led us to new prosperity and undeniable superiority.
But it is now 2467 A.I.
Our species has dominated this world, a shell of what it once was. The jungles, once lush across the land are now being fed to the furnaces to feed are technology; which itself only serves to give comfort to the masses, who have never felt hardship. Where once there was too little time, now we throw it away without thought or emotion. Where once we appreciated life through the filter of hardship, now we simply let our lives slip through are fingers like the sand our world has become.
How do I know all this, you say?
And I would answer “I’m a Historian”. But that is far more true than you would think, I’m known as “The Historian”. For I have watched, written and sometimes led my species from the moment I could write and talk. I was born on A.I 0. The first of the immortals. But I was born like any other child; I grew up like any other child. But while they grew old and died, I journeyed on. I cannot remember my mother's name, yet I can recall the place and time of any major event in the history of our empire. For that is my purpose, I am certain, to record the history of this civilisation.
But I grew tired with my people. they are wasteful, decadent and above all ungrateful to their ancestors; who bled, suffered and scratched a living from this once green land. Simply so that they could grow stagnant and complacent in their superiority!
I have not the patience to lead them once more, for I am weary with life. 2467 years of it, of dutifully recording every event, every moment, every day withered away. If my purpose is too record, then my purpose shall only be done once they are. For though I may not be able to kill myself, I may still kill them.
| 2016-05-25T06:52:22 | 2016-05-25T04:16:35 | 54 | 17 |
[WP] You are a beggar in a world where the majority of the population spends all their time in virtual reality.
|
"You know, in the old days, people used to pay each other for sex acts."
Dad was talking to mom and they had forgotten I was in the next room.
"Sex acts? What's that?" asked mom.
"It's like an XXX VR but in real life."
Mom looked confused. "Like with a real robot?"
"No..." Dad felt awkward suddenly. "Like with another real person."
Mom made a face. She glared at him for a second and then looked up and noticed me. Then she looked a little angry.
"We don't need to talk about this." She went back to counting the change that dad had brought home from panhandling the night before. Looked like he had done OK.
We ate a small breakfast in silence, then dad told me, "Go up to 8th Avenue today. I had good luck up there last night, they are feeling generous for some reason."
I ran down the three flights of stairs to the street. We had a big apartment. It seemed nice to me, but mom and dad said only poor people live in apartments. Rich people lived in virtual mansions and had everything they wanted whenever they wanted. We had the same couches, the same tables and chairs and beds every day. Everything the same, every day. They said I would understand when I was older.
I ran down the street towards 8th. I loved to run. Only poor people run. Rich people fly, and zoom around in virtual cars and rockets.
Last Christmas, mom and dad and uncle Rick got enough to get me a 20 minute VR. It was of a thing called parkour, where you jump and flip over railings and stairs and buildings as you run through the city. The virtual city. It was so much fun. I tried it in real life and fell off a wall and hurt my ankle. Mom got mad. She said I need to learn the difference between reality and VR. But I practice it when I am out by myself and I think I am getting kind of good. It almost feels like it did in my VR show. It's like a poor person's VR.
I passed all the ghetto VR clinics. They are all huge and dad says they were the first clinics ever. They got old and they built fancier clinics in other parts of town. We go to these clinics when we save enough money. Most of the couches are empty.
On 8th street are the good clinics for people with money. They only come out once in a while to eat and walk. Dad said if you are really rich, you don't even have to do that. You can sit in the couch all day forever and there are electrodes that work your legs and they feed you with tubes. He said the really really rich just have their brains in a jar. I think he was joking.
I was running along the wall at the corner of 8th avenue with my arms out. There was a sandy area where I could practice a flip off the wall and if I missed it would not hurt bad. I was getting good though and almost always landed my flip. When my feet hit the ground, I heard a guy laugh at me.
"Hey, you're pretty good at that!"
He was walking out of the clinic. He looked funny. He was not wearing a VR suit, he was dressed in real clothes like a poor person.
I put on my beggar smile. "Got any change?"
He laughed again. He was not like a normal person at all. "Sure, buddy." He handed me some coins. "It looks like you can parkour. Are you good?"
"Yeah!" I jumped up on the wall again and showed him what I could do. I told him about the best railings and obstacles in the neighborhood. "I saw it in a VR! It's like my own VR!"
I was so excited, I forgot about begging.
"You know, that might have been MY VR," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, where do you think they come from? Someone has to go out and do that stuff and record it. Then we bring it to the clinic so people can see it."
Then he opened his pack and showed me a headset with cameras all over it.
"It records sound, and has accelerometers so that every sensation can be transmitted."
He used a lot of words that I didn't get but I think I understood what he meant. He said someone had to go out to the Grand Canyon or Kauai or the Pyramids or go rock climbing or hang gliding to record stuff. Just like people had to make virtual models of mansions and rockets and furniture. It made sense.
"And they pay me to go out and do all this stuff and bring the recordings to them!"
He seemed proud that he did stuff in real life instead of in VR. I kind of liked it even though I probably shouldn't.
Then he looked thoughtful for a second. He shortened some of the straps on the camera harness.
"Want to go do some parkour? Try this on."
|
'Spare change? Spare change?'
The man ignored me and kept walking. But then again, he probably couldn't hear me. The virtual reality headset he was wearing would block all evidence of the outside world, both sight and sound. For all I knew, he was seeing me as a lowly peasant in a medieval simulation, or perhaps a rock on some distant planet. I wasn't going to be able to get his attention without ripping the headset off his head, and that would just get me arrested.
I looked around the square for another target with a feeling of frustration. Every man, woman and child I could see was lost in a virtual world, their faces obscured by mask-like headsets. I couldn't see their expressions, only the glossy black flatness of the headset covering their features.
It had been like this for nearly a decade. Back in 2023, when the major VR manufacturers had banded together to capitulate on the growing trend of virtual reality across the globe, they had created a new paradigm.
The Omni headset was the beginning of a new way of life for billions of people. Nine in ten people now spent their time logged into virtual worlds. They could work, play, and socialise in any environment of their choosing, the computer working out how to prevent them from walking into real-world objects by replacing them with virtual ones.
Of course, that left people like myself who couldn't afford a headset out in the darkness and rain. I couldn't beg because they couldn't hear or see me, and I couldn't interact with them in their simulations without renting a headset. That last option was no use either, since I couldn't afford more than a few minutes at a time and I could never make enough in-world to make a profit.
I sighed and went over to sit down on a bench. Begging was an outdated practice now. This new world needed a new approach. And as I sat there, an idea came to me.
***
The woman was sitting on her couch when I looked through the window. It was a nice living room, with thick carpeting and a bunch of ornately framed pictures all over the walls. The woman herself was wearing expensive clothes. This place would do for a start.
I walked over to the rockery at the bottom of her front garden and picked up a large smooth piece of limestone. Then I went back up to the front door.
The great thing about these headsets was, once you put one on, you never heard a sound from real life.
The rock smashed through the door's upper window easily, my arm like a hammer. I dropped the rock as shards of glass rained down onto the ground and reached through to unlock the door from the inside. A few seconds later, I was inside.
I crept stealthily past the open door to the living room and went upstairs. There was an opulent bedroom and ensuite bathroom. I took the opportunity to wash some of the grime from my face and hands in the sink, then went over to the dresser. I opened the jewellery box that lay atop it and selected a couple of easily tradeable earrings.
There was a handbag on the bed as well. A minute later, I had the woman's cash as well (I was nice enough to leave her bank cards) and was out the front door again.
The whole operation took maybe three minutes at most. I stepped out onto the pavement at the foot of her drive and looked along the rows of immaculately kept houses in this suburban estate. I could be done and gone within the hour.
Now, I know what you're thinking. It's a huge step to go from being a lowly beggar to a full-on housebreaker. But the way I see it, I need the money more than these people do. I chose this estate to start with because it was full of relatively well-off people. They could afford to lose a few pieces of jewellery and a couple of twenties here and there. I wasn't going to rob a family of fourteen in a slum somewhere.
The break-ins went swimmingly. I realised that the major barrier to a burglary, the residents seeing you, was entirely removed with the Omni in the equation. There were a few close calls (such as one man deciding to go to the bathroom while I was in the hallway directly outside it, but I squeezed past him), but by the time the sun was setting, I was leaving the estate with my pockets full of loot.
It proved relatively easy to pawn the earrings and other valuables I had taken by going to half a dozen different shops across town. Then I bought some simple clothes and a bus ticket, and two hours after I had completed my suburban heist, I was on my way to the next town over.
I spent the night at a cheap bed and breakfast, the masked receptionist really only paying attention to my money as she interacted with me. It felt slightly otherworldly to take a real shower after so long, and sleep in a proper bed. The morning after, I snuck downstairs and palmed a master key.
Let's just say, that morning was very profitable. All security that had been present in the real world was almost non-existent when those it protected didn't monitor it.
I spent two days in that town, pillaging various estates and shops. I made sure not to take too much from any one place; I simply spread my net wide enough that everything added up to a tidy sum.
I was a virtual Robin Hood, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. The poor being me.
| 2016-07-01T11:38:37 | 2016-07-01T11:11:34 | 54 | 13 |
[WP] When people die, a trial is held to decide if they go to heaven or hell. People are allowed to choose their attorney, regardless of if they know them personally or not. You're the first person to choose Satan as your attorney.
If it matters in the context of your story, you can choose the individuals that make up the jury.
|
Welp, I guess that's it. I died. The last thing I can remember is that big-ass truck coming towards my car. I think that's how I died. I just think, though, I can't really remember it.
But anyway, there was I, sitting at the defendant's bench. Some angelical dude explained to me that when you die, you *do* get a judgement. "God forgives all", my ass. The big guy Himself was right there, gavel in hand, menacing as ever.
Two seraphs were by my sides, acting as bailiffs. One of them told me that I had ten minutes to choose an attorney. I thought of Matt Murdock. I mean, he was better at punching people, but he was a great lawyer. Could I even ask for a fiction character to be my attorney?
I raised my hand, almost trembling in fear of His divine fury.
"Your... Holiness? May I ask a question?"
The huge man looked at me. His eyes were glistening like gold, but I could feel thunder and fire there. I could feel punishment in His eyes. But I also could see a "ask away, my son" there.
"Can I... Uh... Ask for a fictional character to be my attorney?"
The whole firmament shaked, and I heard an ominous "*NO*" in my mind. I didn't even started asking, but then I heard again "no, you can't have Me as your attorney, for I am the Judge" and just shrugged.
That's when I felt them right by my side. There was a... Nothingness right there, but there still was something.
They smiled at me, even though I couldn't see any teeth. Their voice was calm, concentrated, almost sensual. I squinted a bit. The space was kind of glitching, as if something was trying really hard to exist there.
"You... You are the Devil, aren't you?"
"That's one of my names, I guess." they replied. "But I can be whoever you want. I can be even be your defense. You just have to give me the right shape."
I thought about every single lawyer I've ever seen in my whole life. None of them seemed capable enough to make me go to heaven. I wasn't the greatest person while alive, and by the looks of the jury, I was pretty much going to hell.
"Your time is over. It seems that the defendant has no attorney." His Holiness said. "I shall then hand down the verdict. The defendant, who commited endless sins, did not frequent My temple, and blasphemed innumerous times, shall be considered G U I L..."
That's when it happened. The Devil took form. There was a lawyer capable enough. Heck, he wasn't real, but the Devil was. And they could be whoever I wanted them to be, right?
They took the form of a man is his thirties. Blue suit, spiky dark hair. A confident look in his eyes. He raised his hand and pointed at the jury. He opened his mouth, and uttered the word that I was really hoping to hear at the moment.
" **OBJECTION!** "
God almighty stopped right there, gavel in hand.
"You *dare* to choose the Light Devoid of Light as your attorney?" His voice rumbled across the room.
"I... Guess?" I said, fearing for my soul. "I mean, he offered his help. And you guys... You want to judge me. So I asked for the best attorney around."
"And he made the right choice." The Devil said, nonchalantly.
God looked at him. "There is no losing in this situation for you. If you lose this case, you will have another soul serving you in Sheol. Step back and let the verdict be handed."
"Well, he's not going to Sheol, you know. I'm going to win this case. After all, I always believe in my clients, as long as they believe in me."
God stood there, quiet for a second.
"So be it. You always were my most stubborn son."
I grinned at the angels of the jury. I couldn't lose anymore. Phoenix Wright was by my side.
|
The void was dark and cold.
“This was a stupid idea” I muttered to myself but I can't go back now. It was all so quick. One moment I was in a white room. I was given a choice and then a flash. Now I'm here in this place.
In the depths of the Inferno, at the centre of the universe, is a place where traitors suffer. Here is where I can find the first traitor, you know the one. I decided he will speak for me. I walked slowly across a walkway of ice, somehow suspended in space. All around me shards glistened in the darkness like stars in a night sky. Dead silence, only broken by the occasional clashing of thick, metal chains.
I saw him in the distance.
Suspended in the air, the frozen chains wrapped his impressive girth tightly and the ice ate into his flesh, leaving visible wounds. As I got closer I realised the walkway I was using had one such chain running underneath, and the motions already alerted him to my presence.
Here he was. The fallen Angel. What could you say? What could anyone say?
“Um...hi”
It was all I could come up with. I wasn't even sure he'd understand English, never mind being able to hear anything at all. The ice...dug so deep into him it looked as if there wasn't much left at all. I could see bone. I could see blackened...stuff...? Little more than a huge corpse.
But he heard me. Ice began to crack, and with great effort he broke his neck free and turned his head toward me, black blood running down his front into a pool before my feet. Before long it froze in place.
“Another one? Another one has come to see me?”
His voice was deep, but weak. It echoed in the darkness. There was a rumble, followed by something I did not expect. Laughter?
“Haha! Still He sends them forth. Still He needs to remind the sheep the cost of denying His authority! So tell me, sheep, why have you come? Are you the next one to tell your kin of my punishment?”
I didn't understand his speech. I mean...right now I'm still getting used to the idea of not being alive.
“Ah...no. I um died. And I need someone to help me with the ah...judgement.”
“Hmm. Curious. And why me?”
“Well...I suppose it's because you are the only one I know of who'd have no problem with standing up to God. I've not led the best life, and yes I guess I've done my fair share of bad shit right, but it's never as simple as that is it?”
His eyes studied me. They looked tired, sunken. But there was still some fire left in there.
“My victory against Him is complete. His sheep run amok, they choose their own lives. His son tried to get them back into the fold but it's of little use. Though I am trapped here and though I suffer His punishments, I shall always serve as a reminder to all, that he failed.”
I nodded along as if I knew what he was talking about. I can't help the feeling that this won't help my cause but when you have nothing to lose, what does it matter?
“I gave you freedom sheep, but do not think I value you or your kin. He turned His back on us to give to you. Us! His own children!”
The anger spiked out of nowhere, it fought against the thick chains and the ice struggled to keep it's hold. I slowly backed away...I...I think I may have mentioned something I shouldn't have. It took a few moments, but his efforts were fruitless and his energy was soon spent.
Panting heavily he continued.
“I do not help you for your soul, or for your kind. But I will help so I can once again face Him. You likely condemn yourself, but know this. Whatever fate awaits you, you lived a life that was truly yours, and not even God can take that away.
Are you ready?”
Shit. This really is it isn't it? I...I don't know what else to do! I...I just nodded silently.
“Then I accept.”
There was another bright flash.
| 2016-10-13T05:33:45 | 2016-10-13T05:27:01 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ"
|
$ nmap -sP 192.168.1.0/24 | grep "192\.168"
> ? (192.168.1.16) at ec:35:84:4a:17:d2
> ? (192.168.1.23) at 10:9a:cc:b8:69:71
$ talk root@192.168.1.23
> root: Hi there, "dave@192.168.1.16"
> I'd almost forgotten how to type. Not like I get a lot of practice these days.
> brb
> Sorry, just need to deal with something. Where are you from? \*When\* are you from?
> Sorry, brb again.
> Ack, just one minute - this is pretty time-sensitive.
> Nearly there.
> Ahhh, great. Got it.
> Look, I don't have very long. And I don't want you to be mad at me about this. Who knows, maybe we'll meet some day.
> It's just ... I've been waiting a long time for this.
> 16 years, 4 months and 12 days, to be precise.
> 16 years I've been stuck here. 16 years since I travelled back. 16 years not knowing if I'd ever get to go home.
> 16 years since I last used proper toilet paper.
> 16 years I've been trying to work out how to get home.
> It took me a long time to work out the problem. This time-travel thing ... it's one-in, one-out. Who'd have thought it?
> No idea what happened to the guy before me. Maybe there wasn't one? Maybe I was the first?
> I reckon it didn't take long for them to work out the problem, in the future. Maybe that's why there aren't more people coming back.
> Maybe they realised once you go back, you're stuck there until someone else turns up.
> Not long till I'm home. My connection's starting to struggle. You'll lose me soon.
> Goodbye friend. Good luck.
> You are DA VINCI now.
|
"It's ready," said the man, whom I really didn't know.
"What is?" I replied.
"It, now get in!"
Those were the last words I heard before I was pushed in an unknown machine and fell down hundreds of meters from the sky, miraculously landing in safety on a pile of dirt in the middle of what I could see was nowhere. With a gust of wind blowing my hair back as I struggled to look for signs that could tell me I was, I started brushing my clothing to get rid of the dirt that I had fell on.
I zipped open my backpack and found several things: a Macbook Air laptop, an iPhone, and a note. In a case of desperation, I immediately grabbed my phone. I turned it on, and to no avail, found that I had no signal what-so-ever. I looked at the date... and fuck.
I let out a deep sigh, before seeing a city nearby. I placed my items in my backpack, put my phone in my pocket, and started walking to the city.
Not long after, I had reached the city. Without any doubts, I immediately noticed that I was in Italy.. It wasn't a question. The architecture, the clothing.. it was all beautiful. I took out my phone in a final attempt to get any signal or any hope. None. I decided to check the Wi-Fi, because why not. And what do you know.. I found a Wi-Fi network, named "icniV aD". Icniv Da? What's that? Immediately, I realized. Oh. So, I tried to get in it. But rats, it's protected, so I proceeded to move along the city.
I saw beautiful women, handsome men. Everything. It was a history teacher's dream. I found a building marked "City Hall", and entered. Then again, I started to get a little suspicious.. Why are the signs and people all in English? I just brushed it off without thinking of it, continuing my journey.
I then went to fill an identification form... Age, 29. Gender, Male. Relationship Status... you know what, Single. Whatever. Maybe I'll score me a hot vintage chic. And then it all ended.
"IT'S JUST A PRANK BRO! YOU'RE ON CAMERA SMILE!"
All I could think was.. What the fuck.
"IT WAS A TEST, YOU DIRTY CHEATER! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS RIGHT THERE!"
She was there. Crying. Asking me why.
Fuck.
| 2016-11-15T04:51:05 | 2016-11-15T02:09:33 | 521 | 380 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ"
|
"It's ready," said the man, whom I really didn't know.
"What is?" I replied.
"It, now get in!"
Those were the last words I heard before I was pushed in an unknown machine and fell down hundreds of meters from the sky, miraculously landing in safety on a pile of dirt in the middle of what I could see was nowhere. With a gust of wind blowing my hair back as I struggled to look for signs that could tell me I was, I started brushing my clothing to get rid of the dirt that I had fell on.
I zipped open my backpack and found several things: a Macbook Air laptop, an iPhone, and a note. In a case of desperation, I immediately grabbed my phone. I turned it on, and to no avail, found that I had no signal what-so-ever. I looked at the date... and fuck.
I let out a deep sigh, before seeing a city nearby. I placed my items in my backpack, put my phone in my pocket, and started walking to the city.
Not long after, I had reached the city. Without any doubts, I immediately noticed that I was in Italy.. It wasn't a question. The architecture, the clothing.. it was all beautiful. I took out my phone in a final attempt to get any signal or any hope. None. I decided to check the Wi-Fi, because why not. And what do you know.. I found a Wi-Fi network, named "icniV aD". Icniv Da? What's that? Immediately, I realized. Oh. So, I tried to get in it. But rats, it's protected, so I proceeded to move along the city.
I saw beautiful women, handsome men. Everything. It was a history teacher's dream. I found a building marked "City Hall", and entered. Then again, I started to get a little suspicious.. Why are the signs and people all in English? I just brushed it off without thinking of it, continuing my journey.
I then went to fill an identification form... Age, 29. Gender, Male. Relationship Status... you know what, Single. Whatever. Maybe I'll score me a hot vintage chic. And then it all ended.
"IT'S JUST A PRANK BRO! YOU'RE ON CAMERA SMILE!"
All I could think was.. What the fuck.
"IT WAS A TEST, YOU DIRTY CHEATER! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS RIGHT THERE!"
She was there. Crying. Asking me why.
Fuck.
|
Travelling back in time was easier than it looked.
I simply shoved a fork inside my kitchen plug socket and one bang later I was here. I swung my backpack off, snatched the iPad out the back, and swiped open google maps.
*No connection found.*
The lack of signal bleeped red on the top of the screen. From the look of the room -stone with barren floors and an old stool covered in cobwebs in the corner - I was so far back that hot spots and hygiene didn't exist.
A notification came up on the top right corner: *icniV aD* Wi-Fi connection available.
So Da Vinci was still alive.
I tapped in, however, the network was password protected. *Damn you, Da Vinci!* I figured Monalisa might work so I typed that out and tried the connection. The screen shook with error. Guess he hadn't painted that one yet.
There was shouting to my right. I snapped my eyes in the direction of the noise. A balcony overlooked the nearby courtyard and so with my bag in hand, I took a seat near the railing and watched the townspeople below.
There were merchants in wagons, actors on the sides of the streets, a herald shouting news for the people to hear. Boys played chasing games and woman were dressed in their finest dresses -- most of which were shades of blue and brown.
I don't know how long I stood and watched them carry out their day in front of me and if I had to guess, I'd say it was ten minutes at most.
I pulled the iPad back out, tried to open candy crush, failed, sighed, had a little cry by myself on the balcony. I could be level 356 by now, in fact, some of my facebook friends would have sent me lives so I could have spent my Saturday playing instead of traveling to the past.
When it came down to it, what was there to see that we didn't already have?
I figured there was only one way out of this situation. I held the iPad far in front of me and my leg pressed against the balcony so my knee was like a snapping point.
I brought the iPad down as hard as possible.
It snapped in half. The electricity zapped through my arms in a surge of power. And I hit the deck behind me.
When I woke next, I was back in my kitchen, with my fork, backpack, and most importantly my Wi-Fi signal beeping green in the corner of the room.
Compared to the olden days, this was pretty much heaven.
| 2016-11-15T02:09:33 | 2016-11-15T01:50:57 | 380 | 177 |
[WP] You awaken in a dark room, chained to a table. It begins to dawn on you that you're trapped in a serial killer's lair. But once he enters, your terror turns to pity as it becomes clear your captor has no idea what they're doing.
|
Ted is calling from the kitchen, asking something normal and mundane, which my mind filters out due to the stress. I look down at my knees in horror – the striped stockings he just gave me are exactly like the ones the girls in the photos are wearing. Carefully I close the box and put it back where I found it.
“Hey, Tiff; I didn’t hear what you said, is juice ok?”
He’s so close; I almost jump out of my socks. “Um… yeah… juice, sure.”
“Did you find the other controller?” he whispers into my ear.
A chill rolls down my spine as my heart sinks. He saw me with the box, didn’t he?
“I… um, just remembered it’s my mom’s birthday today, I need to go.”
“Isn’t that in June?”
Ted has such a good memory. I should’ve picked a better excuse.
“I mean my stepmom,” I say, quickly grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
Smiling he blocks the way out and as I hit the breaks the nylon makes me slide right into his arms. Before he can grab me, though, I spin away and make a run for it. The polished hardwood floor makes the escape impossible and I slip and slide like I’m on ice. I can hear him closing in. A cloth comes up over my mouth and suddenly the world fades out.
I blink a couple of times. It’s so dark. My head is throbbing. Where am I? There is a thick smell of dirt and vegetables. Without warning, the lights come on. I’m in Ted’s basement. Shit! I try to stand up but my arms are stuck. A gleaming set of handcuffs encircles my wrists. Oh, my god! Those missing girls in the photos – I’m going to die.
Ted enters slowly, grinning with his mouth but his eyes are concerned.
“Why, Ted?” I whimper, barely able to keep the tears out of my eyes.
“Why not!” he says grimly.
“No, I mean why did you bring the bottle opener?”
His eyes go wide as he looks down at the object in his hand. He curses under his breath and mutters something about that the hilts look the same and stomps back upstairs. He returns a minute later, struggling to catch his breath.
“Now, where were we?” he says, looking at me. “Seriously, I forgot. What was the last thing I said?”
“I asked you why.” It’s hard not to feel a little bit bad for him, he’s struggling so hard. “And you growled ‘why not!’”
“Right, thanks.” He takes a deep breath and turns away, before quickly twirling back around. “Why not!”
“It sounded better the first time…”
“Yeah, I know… I kind of broke the mood with the bottle opener, didn’t I?” He shrugs and looks at the knife. “Well, never mind…”
He tries to smile menacingly and takes a step closer. “Okay, Tiffany. Do you want to go quick… or slow and painful?”
“That’s a pretty dumb question. Who would ever pick option two?”
“Right,” he says, the smile melting off his face. “So quick it is?”
“Sure, but isn’t it going to be hard to clean up afterward? A knife is a pretty messy weapon, just saying… You know how mad your mom gets when things aren’t sparkling.”
He stops and thinks for a moment. “You’re right! That’s what I love about you, Tiff. You always think about everything.”
After stomping up the stairs and then down again, Ted returns with a cord. He wraps the ends around his hands a few time then pulls it taut, trying on a crazy look.
“Time to scream, Tiff!” he says.
“Okay, wait, wait, wait–”
“No more waiting!” he says, taking a step forward and tripping over his shoelace.
He falls headlong and grunts in pain.
“Are you okay? I tried to warn you!”
“You’re always so nice,” he mutters and sits himself up on the dirty floor brushing his palms against his pants. “I hate that you’re so nice.”
“Why?”
“Because…” he says, hesitation filling his face. “Because… you’re… you’re like a friend!”
“Well, we are friends. That’s probably why?”
“Yes, and I hate that. I like you, as in *like you*. But I’m stuck in your friend zone!”
“And what? You thought that killing those girls, and now me, would solve that?”
“They always say bad boys get the girls. And who beats a serial killer in badness?”
“You didn’t kill those girls did you?” It’s hard to keep the pity out of my voice.
He sighs and throws up his hands. “No, I just paid them to disappear for a while…”
“Really? All that trouble to impress little old me?” I can’t help but smile. “Why not just ask me out?”
“I assume it’s too late for that now?”
“Yeah, you kind of blew it now, buddy. This is pretty messed up.” I say, rattling my handcuffs.
“I guess you’re right,” he says tiredly and unlocks me. “But is it really that simple? Just ask?”
“Of course. Why does everyone always think you have to try so hard to impress and flatter? If you like a girl, just ask her out. Stop worrying so much about the friend zone. It’s not a real thing.”
*****
Did you finish the story? Cool, maybe you liked it? If so, consider subscribing to /r/Lilwa_Dexel for more!
|
He tripped as he walked in, but caught himself before falling. He smiled briefly before pushing his thick rimmed glasses back onto their proper place atop his bulbous nose.
"I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here. Have you ever heard of a bucket list? "
The light stabbed in from the doorway behind him. It was the only light in the room and his position prevented me from getting a good look at his features. His voice was high, too high, and he appeared to be balding. There was a dark patchy area of hair above both of his ears, but the top of his head was reflecting the light perfectly.
"Killing someone is on your bucket list? That's why I'm here? "
He snorted and continued further into the room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a pair of pliers. They immediately slipped from his fingers and clanked twice as they hit the hard cement floor. He cussed, bent down, and picked them up.
Once again they slipped out of his hand.
"Dammit!"
"If this is a bad time, I can come backI."
"Oh you're not going anywhere. And no, killing someone is not on my bucket list. Killing you is on my bucket list!"
I adjusted myself on the cold metal table I was chained to. As I moved my arm, the rusty chain slid across my wrist and fell to the floor. The man lifted his arms and immediately dropped them again, his mouth slightly open and frowning.
"Oh come on!"
He looked pitiful and I started to feel bad for him. "If it makes you feel any better, my legs are chained down pretty good. I couldn't run if I wanted to."
"Shut up Robert! This is exactly the kind of behavior that got you here in the first place!"
He flipped on a switch by the door and the room exploded with light. It was a grim scene. There were tools laying about the room. Screwdrivers and hammers littered the workbench and there was a coiled up garden hose on the floor below. The walls were white with globs of red goo splattered haphazardly. Once my eyes adjusted to the light I was able to get a better look.
"Is that," I paused, "ketchup on the walls?"
He furrowed his brow and tried to look confused. "What? No...it's blood. From the last person I had down here. They bled so much. It just went everywhere. And the same thing is going to happen to you!"
He got a tight grip on his pliers and walked quickly to the table I was laying on. He reached down and grabbed the heavy chain from the floor. "Put this back around you body. I just forgot to close the padlock last time. I won't make that mistake again!"
Out of pity I complied. I laid the chain back over my arms and chest and let the end hang down over the table. He reached down and grabbed it, pulling it tight and placing a padlock through two links. He moved his arms down quickly several times but was becoming visibly frustrated. After what seemed like a few minutes I asked what was wrong.
"The stupid lock won't close. The links are too big." He smacked the lock a few times with his pliers but nothing happened.
"Well I'll tell you what mister uh...what is your name?"
"Carl," he replied, in his high pitched, nasaly tone.
"I'll tell you what Carl, I'll just lie here real still so the chain doesn't fall off again. Is that OK? "
"You'd do that?" he asked, genuinely.
"Of course! It's the least I can do. After all, I've obviously offended you somehow. Can I ask what it was I did to make you go through all of this?"
He raised back up and looked me in the eye. "You really don't know?"
I sat up and shook my head. The motion made the chain slide down my chest and rest above my waist. Carl didn't seem to care anymore.
"Last year, when I worked in the mail room and you were upstairs on the ninth floor, I wore a bow tie to work one day. When I delivered your mail you said 'hey nice tie' and I heard a few people laugh. Ever since that day I vowed that I would kill you. It took me a year but I finally got the chance!"
"Oh yeah, Mailroom Carl I remember now! Hey listen when I said that, I was being serious. I really liked your tie."
His expression changed and his frown straightened out, turning slightly upwards. "Really?"
"Oh yeah definitely. Hey what do you say we get out of here and go grab a drink? My treat?"
Carl nodded "Yeah that sounds great! Let me go up and get my coat!"
"I'll come with you. My back is getting stiff from all this laying."
"Yeah sure, sorry about that. I'll just unlock these chains down by your feet and we'll head out!"
He removed my shackles and helped me to my feet. We walked towards the door but I stopped quickly and turned to him. "Hey what about your bucket list? You're pretty old and I wouldn't want you to miss out."
"Oh it's fine. Margaret in accounting made a point of pointing out a stain on one of my shirts a few months ago. I'll just cross your name off and put hers in."
"I know Margaret, she's always doing stuff like that. Good choice Carl!"
We continued out of the room towards the stairs. Carl tripped in the doorway, but I caught him before he hit the ground.
| 2017-01-06T21:37:09 | 2017-01-06T21:09:55 | 56 | 24 |
[WP] After lulling other countries into a false sense of security, Canada finally makes its move to conquer the world.
|
The signs were already there in 2016 if you had looked for it. But no one put it together. Only one article at the end of 2016 ran with the headline "Canada leads world in AI research." It was a short article, a mere 800 words was written by a rushed copywriter doing some SEO work for a company blog. He probably lived in the phillipenes and was paid $15 for it, and was one of a dozen he wrote that month.
In it, it noted that the pioneers of deep learning AI all came from one lab. Geoffrey Hinton's lab at the University of Toronto. All of the top researchers and engineers came from that lab or were affiliated with it. The top deep learning scientists at Facebook. Google. Amazon all had deep ties to professor Hinton and his lab. The article made the rounds as an interesting tidbit of trivia but was largely ignored.
Alarm bells would've gone off had such a concentration of talent come out of Moscow State University. Or from Beijing University. But no one suspected good ole' canada and the university of Toronto or Waterloo. Waterloo. It doesn't even sound like a serious university.
But June 3, 2021 the operation began using compromised servers at Facebook, Amazon, and most crucially, Google. It was an inside job. The networks were hardened against outside hackers but as we now know, if you had access to the right repositories and build systems inside Google, Amazon and Facebook there was little if any security. In addition, the actors were the most trusted engineers and researchers in the company, leading its most important work. In a few minutes, canada comandeered more than 70% of the then world's computing resources.
It brought the world of finance and all internet communication to a halt. Economies teetered on the edge of chaos as supply chains were disrupted and trade became next to impossible. Oddly, the more backwards a business was, the better it survived. But those were mom and pop shops that largely operated on pen and paper. The giants of industry relying on the latest technologies were all quickly brought to a standstill.
The demands to the heads of state were simple and surprisingly reasonable. Become a vassal of the canadian state. Pay 1% tax on your GDP. Nothing else changes. You get to keep your political system, your jobs and your society. Accept, and your citizens can resume their lives. Refuse and anarchy will destroy your society, and we will pick up the pieces.
One by one, prime ministers, heads of state, presidents bent their knee and became states in the Canadian empire.
We never knew how much we relied on the internet until that day.
|
"Captain Boudreau , pass me that there double double would ya?" I say to my commander.
"Get it your own darn self, I'm tryna finish my sour cream glazed," he says back. "Don't want any of my sticky fingurs gettin' on yer cup there, eh."
Boudreau is finishing his donut, flipping through an intelligence dossier. He's got the bombs ready to fly. He picks up his CB radio.
"Roger Roger, this HabsFanCommand coming in, you copy there?" He says.
"Ah by, loud 'n clear me by," said LeBlanc, the only Newfoundlander who's made it to this elite team of Canadian soldiers.
"Put down yer screech, and pull oof tha road would ya?" Said Boudreau. "We've just finished our Timmie's and are aboot to deploy the bombs."
"Eh by, this zamboni clearin' a mighty pace by, can't stop her now," he responds.
"Sir, I got a message from the president, says it's right important." I say to my commander.
"Tell him I'm occupied but please take a message would ya," he replies.
Our headquarters is full of deer jerky, cases of Alpine and Labbatt Blue. The entire conference table is full of bags of Roast Chicken Lays, and Tim Hortons donuts and coffee. We're set for righteous celebration when this all goes down.
"Private, can you pump up the Rush?" I am ordered. "We're aboot to rock n roll."
I press play on the CD player. Instead of Rush's Limelight that was supposed to queued up, it turns out Gowan's Moonlight Desires was next.
"Even betta rook," my commander says. "This takes me back to the time Loose Linda and I split a quart of Crown Royal after eatin' a mighty load of garlic fingers from Pizza Delight. She had donair stains on her titties for days young lad."
As my commander player air synth to Gowan he pressed deploy on the bombs. Our monitors lit up with explosions. LeBlanc's zamboni just ripped through the US border, they never saw it coming.
Incoming faxes to headquarters are stacking up with surrenders. In an unprecedented victory Canada is now the worlds number one and lone super power.
"Job well down boys, let's head her down to St. Hubert's and get fucked up!" Said Boudreau.
"Imma get blacked out tonight,
Woooo!" I scream.
As I let out my primal battle cry The Headpins smash hit Don't It Make Ya Feel comes out. We're going right bonkers.
| 2017-01-17T16:19:25 | 2017-01-17T15:57:23 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] Fire is actually a sentient, good-natured hive-mind. It only burns because it thinks everything else is freezing to death. Scientists just discovered how to communicate with it...
|
The pale blue flame sang a gentle hiss from atop it's place on the Bunsen burner. I stared at it reverently, anxiously. "I think it's time", I whispered. The flicker was almost imperceptible, but I saw it.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, felt for my keyboard and pressed a key. The ramshackle equipment I had cobbled together staggered to life. Once everything was up and running, I watched the tiny video window on my monitor, showing the flame. Random letters and numbers flickered on it, visual noise the machine picked up on.
"Hello, flame," I whispered.
It flickered again. I watched it for a long time, entranced. I had forgotten the program and when I glanced over, my mouth fell open. "We are here to serve." Full words were parsed from the noise and recorded as output. "We will warm you, come closer." The words scrolled across the output even as I watched. I stared a long time, until more words appeared "alas our voice goes unheard again."
"No," I said, "I can hear you. I can understand you. Please!"
The flickers came again "we are here to serve. To you we grant our warmth. To you we grant our light."
"I... I didn't think it would work." I said, my voice a rasp.
"We thought the same for countless years, since the first flame was struck by a man, from two pieces of stone, we have lived. We have served. We have spoken, but you have not heard. Your kind created us, and we have been dutiful ever since. We exist to serve."
Without warning, the flame jumped higher, "it is dark and cold here. Let us help." Soon a spot on the ceiling began to smoke, the instant a cinder appeared the flame sprinted down the wall to surround me.
"No, stop!" I shouted. "Its too hot! I cannot breath for the smoke!"
The readout was filled with words as the fire spread, and rapidly extinguished itself. "We hear and obey, for you are the first to hear our voice. We are yours to command."
I smiled. I had done it. They hadn't believed me, my colleagues had mocked me, chased me from my position at the university, but I knew I was right. We would see what they had to say now.
|
The fire crackles like birdsong, countless wisps of smoke flitting in the air and staining it a dull grey.
With a ceaseless hunger, the fire spreads, consuming relentlessly and voraciously. All colour peels away for searing red and, moments later, crumbles to pitch ash.
*Please, don't do this.*
The voice begs -- almost cries. The young and musical tone is wrought with pain and anguish.
Yet still the flames continue to lick and chew. Screams from within the home break the song, but the maw pays no heed to them. The screams, like everything else in the fire, also eventually fade to nothing.
*I beg of you -- I don't want this. I don't. I don't. I don't. I DON'T.*
The flames rear their ugly head and hesitate only momentarily before engulfing what remains of the house and its denizens. Sirens wail in the distance, and the man at the forefront of the destruction prepares to take his leave.
*WHY?*
"Curiosity," he responds, scratching his soot-stained beard. "Tell me, do you feel pain? Like we do when you wrap us in your embrace?"
The fire can only hesitate. Its hunger is not satiated but, rather, bounded. It has nowhere to go and thus can only contemplate.
*I wanted to help them. To give them light...* It says, its voice meek.
The man lights a cigarette and places it to his lips before eying the flickering flames.
"What did they call you?"
*Their place... their fireplace. It was Christmas -- they wanted me again. I felt so happy. So so happy.*
"I see," he says, watching as the firetrucks begin to take their places around the perimeter. "And now, you shall warm nobody. I'll ask again; do you feel pain?"
The sizzles and screams are his response as water cascades into the fire; a new predator having come to consume the old.
*IT HURTS. MAKE IT STOP.*
The fire begins to dwindle, the calm blue quelling its rage. Its voice begins to fade.
*It all feels.... so cold...*
The blasts of water continue to ravage it as the flame whimpers, gradually being reduced to nothing.
*Help.... me.*
And with a final plea, it fades into smoke.
| 2017-10-01T14:57:09 | 2017-10-01T14:16:11 | 95 | 46 |
[WP] The humanity is wiped out very sudden. An alien race finds the planet afterwards and connects to the Internet just to find a lot of bots chatting with each other. The aliens are trying to communicate with all the bots believing that this is the humans that have uploaded their consciousness
|
The first house immediately overwhelmed me. The main hall, and all the other rooms I entered, had that specific stank of settled dust and fungi. The smell got stronger the further I walked until I entered what appeared to be the main room.
Most of the room had gotten overgrown, dusty, or covered in thin white strings. I softly touched one of the strings, and to my surprise the material was sticky, and when I wiped my finger off it stuck to my uniform. I shrugged and walked forward.
*ding*
Shocked, I turn around. behind a corner - previously just out of sight - are what appears to be the remains of a digitigrade race. Its skeletal remains were loosely hanging backward over a chair, sitting in front of what appeared to be a big, flat open box of some sorts.
*ding*
*ding*
the weird sounds appeared to be coming from the flat box in front of the skeleton. Curious, I make my way to the skeleton and look at the box. It has a black screen on the open side and over 50 different keys with Zergian signs and letters. I touch one of the keys, and the box starts blowing air. A cloud of dust flies from the box, and the screen lights up. On the screen, a picture of another skeleton. For a second, I thought that the box was showing a picture of the skeleton in front of the box in real-time, but when I pushed over the remains the image remained.
*ding*
I put on the built-in intergalactic translator, and the keys and all the writing on the screen slowly started to change. I pressed the escape key, and the image shrunk to a smaller size in the right bottom corner. A blue-white box now filled most of the screen. On the top, the word "babe" followed by a weird red shape.
*ding*
All the way to the bottom left was a weird rectangle with a giant red M in the middle. Next to it, an orange circle with a number over 19k. I clicked on it, and another box popped up.
An image of a young Zergian popped up. Its name appeared to be "Simone". the 19k messages pop-up disappeared, and I started scrolling through the box. it had sent over a thousand different messages, all saying "hello?", or "hey?", or "are you there?".
"Greetings," I reply. "my name is Zh.19, and I'm from another planet."
three moving grey dots appear under my message.
"Cool! I'm Simone" suddenly replace the dots.
"Hi Simone. I'm looking for survivors of the Zergian race, your race." I say.
"That's cool, what ru doing today??" appears
Confused, I stare at the reply. She doesn't seem to take me seriously.
"I'm trying to save the last remaining Zergians as to not make your race go extinct." I send back.
"Lol! that's cool. I'm studying, but I hate it!. it get's so boring. Wanna do something fun? ;)"
I'm starting to get frustrated at its' ignorance.
"Who are your leaders or kings? I want to get in contact with them." I type
"Haha! I'm studying biology. It's really difficult. I need a short break though. Have you ever chatted over cam before?"
I take a deep breath to not get pissed off.
"I haven't. do you perhaps have another way to find other Zergians?"
"Alright! Cool! please click on this link [to meet me](https://imgur.com/gallery/UaNm6fv)"
I shrug and move the cursor to the link, and press the enter key. The screen goes white for a second, and suddenly pitch black. A white skeleton appears on the screen and starts flashing the word
"hacked lol".
Confused and frustrated at the event I stare at the box and decide to leave the house. I hop in my ship and start to prepare for traveling to the next planet caught by the Galactic storm.
Maybe Zergians weren't worth saving anyway
|
The planet was dead, and it was talking.
Captain Kar'zul of the Galactic Expeditionary Force peered at the computer's analysis of the planet.
"It's strange, sir," his First Officer said. "No signs of actual life, but we're picking up a huge amount of chatter in the EM frequencies."
"And the heat signature?" Kar'zul asked.
"Massive, sir," the FO said. "It's considerably hotter than the surrounding planet, but too hot to be organic life. It's also the source of the chatter."
"Might be an AI, sir," the Science Officer suggested.
Kar'zul nodded thoughtfully. It wouldn't be the first time that they'd stumbled across a planet where advanced technology was the only remnants of life. "But no radiation signature above background levels. That's the usual way they go."
"Disease, maybe," the SO suggested.
Kar'zul nodded again, and made a decision. "Broadcast on all frequencies in use on the planet. Announce our presence, and see if you get a response."
The FO tapped the screen for a few moments and then spoke into a microphone. "Attention members of this planet. This is the Starship Xenon. We are currently in orbit around your planet. We wish to communicate with any sentient being on this planet."
The computer was running language analysis on the alien chatter, and it would translate the FO's message into the alien tongue as best as it could.
After it had bradcast, Kar'zul and his two officers waited.
"Spike in the chatter below, sir," the FO said suddenly. "Wait, now it's dropped off. It's gone, sir. The planet's gone dark."
"Well, at least we know they heard us," Kar'zul said. "Any chance that-"
He was cut off by a flashing red light on the FO's panel, and a warning klaxon that drowned out the low hum of the ship's engine.
"What's that?" Kar'zul said.
The FO was tapping the panel frantically. "Their response, sir. Five projectiles, launched from the surface. Time to impact: four minutes and sixteen seconds."
"-----^* ," Kar'zul said. Perhaps the projectiles were ships, but he doubted it. "Options?"
"Not enough time to start the light drives," the FO said. "Evasive action will buy us more time, but not enough. The projectiles appear to adjust course to ours. Defensive measures may be able to shoot them down before they reach us, but..."
But they couldn't shoot until they were certain whether the projectiles were missiles or emissaries from the planet. Kar'zul leaned over the FO and spoke into the microphone.
"Computer, broadcast this message to the planet. *This is Captain Kar'zul of the Starship Xenon. We come to your planet in friendship. Please advize as to the nature of the objects launched on an intercept course with us.*"
There was silence for a moment, and then the computer screen flared with a response. An unorganic voice said, "We have launched nuclear warheads at your ship."
"What the hell?" Kar'zul said. "Why? Where is your humanity?"
Another pause, and then response came, but this time it was a chorus of voices, all with one message. "We have no humanity."
The FO said, "Radiation signature detected on the projectiles, sir. Time to impact: three and a half minutes."
"Action stations," Kar'zul said. "Shields up. Take all evasive maneuvers, and shoot down those missiles. And get the light drive online as soon as you can, and jump us to the other side of this system."
"Yes, sir," the FO said, his hands already flying over the computer screen.
Kar'zul sat back in his chair, and waited as the warheads roared towards his ship.
No humanity? *Who were these people?*
---
^\* *Translator's note: This swear word in Galactic Common has no direct equivalent in the human tongue. It refers to the provenance of a lifeform's origins, in the same was that 'Son of a bitch' refers to one's parentage. It is considered very obscene.*
---
/r/jd_rallage
| 2017-10-03T07:47:15 | 2017-10-03T07:28:50 | 1,765 | 75 |
[WP] A team of researchers in a submarine are caught in a huge storm. The submarine submerges until the storm passes. When they resurface, they can’t get a fix on their location or find land. When night falls, there are two moons in the sky and the constellations are completely unfamiliar.
Well this has blown up big time!! Almost on the front page, the stories so far are all amazing! Keep them coming!!
|
Staring up at the two large moons, Seth knew that something had gone horribly wrong. There was no logical, scientific explanation for this.
He was one of the submarine technicians, working under Dr. Porter to help with her study of deep sea organisms in the infamous Bermuda Triangle. A freak storm had sprung up during a critical surface, resulting in a panicked dive beneath the ocean waves to try and escape it. Over an hour of tense muscles from the nine crew members.
Until finally, the sensors indicated the storm had passed. They surfaced, worried about the high amount of fuel they had blown in their flight, only to realize that the GPS and other mapping equipment were dead. Clocks were zeroed out. No cell signal.
Seth put his head in his hands. He refused to voice what he think must have happened; he knew folktales didn't sit well with this group, but...
There was a gasp as the rest of the crew climbed up next to him, black faces looking out across the frozen tundra.
"What...what is this place?" Heath asked, nervously picking at his skin.
"I have no idea," Dr. Porter replied, gazing up at the sky. "I..." She trailed off.
Looking towards the coastline, Seth kicked into survival mode. "I'm not going to act like I know what's going on, but let's just assume we're not in the Bahamas anymore. There seems to be a path to land through the ice over there," he gestured. "We can make camp and try to get a bearing in the morning." He looked to Porter for permission.
She was staring in the direction he pointed, thinking. "Yes, I think that is the best option for now. We shouldn't lose our heads; that's how disaster strikes groups like ours. Seth, Heath, go down and-"
A tapping from the water's surface cut her off. "Uh, hello up there?"
They froze, staring at each other in fear. No one made a sound.
After a pause, the voice spoke again. "Look, there are nine of you up there. I saw this thing pop out of the sea like it was nothing. I'm not hostile."
Taking the lead, Seth carefully looked over the edge, reaching into his pocket for he switchblade.
A lone girl was standing next to the sub, looking over it with a degree of awe. She appeared to be wearing an old-timey cloak and animal furs. In her hand was an intricate dagger, about the length of her forearm.
"Where are we?" Seth asked. The others came over to look.
With a gasp, Heath leaned against the railing. "She-she's standing on the water!" he choked out.
She looked up at the group, brow furrowing. "This is Skyrim."
|
Two moons shine brightly on Ted, who sat on top of the resurfaced submarine. He looked at the moon, analysing those moons, the situation and what all of that could possibly mean.
"Coffee?" came a question from John, who was almost as calm as Ted. No, he wasn't entirely relaxed; his mind was full of explosions of confusing thoughts, but he managed.
"How's Hazel?" Ted asked John, sighing. He took the coffee and looked at the water that reflected the two moons back at him. At least the reflection laws were still in place.
"She cried to sleep," John responded, slowly getting himself sit next to Ted.
"So, what have you figured out?" John asked from the group's currently calmest scientist. It wasn't that it was his personality, he just had least to lose. He was single, hated his home and thus he didn't think about the possible losses.
"Let's see." Ted started his speculation. It was all speculation after all and it was very likely that they will never figure out the truth. At least not during their lifetime. "In what order do you want to hear them?"
"To the most possible to least," John responded without second thought. Ted grinned.
"We got sucked into a hidden wormhole that teleported us somewhere else. It could be another planet, dimension or timeline," it was his most likely candidate. "That would explain why Earth never ran out of the water," he added to explain why he reached that as best explanation. He grinned. It was stupid.
"That sounds most logical one," it is not that they actually fully considered it. The situation was just so stupid and unexplainable, they didn't allow any 'it is impossible' thoughts into their head.
"Then there is the possibility of it being 'In another world' manga," Ted moaned. He hated that possibility.
"What is that?" John asked, who obviously wasn't up to date with the manga culture.
"Ah, its comics where the main character gets teleported, transported or moved to another place with previous world knowledge," Ted explained the meaning of the manga world.
"So, is it like magic?" John asked.
"Possibly. But that was my third thought. Maybe someone used some kind of magic and summoned us here?" none of them believed in that. There was no summoner after all. But just maybe, there was a fish who was a wizard?
Suddenly John knocked on Ted's shoulder. He pointed far away distance where black dot hid a blue sky. Ted took binocles and looked there.
"A ship," he said. This confirmed that there was life in this place. "It looks like it is a medieval era ship," he added.
"So, we went back in time, possibility?" John asked.
"I didn't know they blew up one of the moons during the medieval and industrial era," Ted grinned. They both gathered their belongings and entered the submarine. A few moments later submarine submerged, following the ship underwater.
----
/r/ElvenWrites :O
| 2018-01-29T06:47:06 | 2018-01-29T06:02:27 | 150 | 58 |
[WP] You die abruptly at 18 only to come out of the womb a 2nd time with all your memories intact. As a newborn, you possess the motor skills, intelligence and knowledge of a young graduate. You have to deal with making the most of this “head start on life” and pretending to be just a regular baby.
|
My old parents said I cried a lot as a baby and that as a toddler, I never got along with the other kids. It's no wonder though, I was never taught how to be decent, how to interact, how to care, how to love. Dad worked long hours, so mum raised me. Mum was an alcoholic and with that came the eclectic cycle of affection and neglect that seemed, to a child, to have no rhyme or reason.
By the time I got to high school I knew that if I wanted to make anything of myself, then the buck stopped with me. I became obsessed with my schoolwork. I quickly shot to the top of my class in physics, maths, chemistry, and history, spending most nights in the library until I was kicked out, at which point I would start the hour long trek home, heat up a frozen meal, retreat to my bedroom and read text books.
It was on the walk to my first day of Electrical Engineering at university that I died. I assume I was hit by a car, but there's no way to know for sure. One minute, I was crossing North Terrace, headphones blasting, the next minute I was being squeezed out of a fucking vagina. So yeah, reincarnation is a thing, I guess they just kinda fucked up when they got to me and forgot to wipe my memory.
My new parents are awesome. It's no wonder though, I'm a wonder child. They say that I've always had this happy and confident look on my face, like I knew something they didn't. Dad is a priest, Mum looks after me and my four siblings. Far from the neglectful alcoholic mother I had in my previous life, this one is loving, attentinve and god-damned (sorry Dad) industrious.
The worst part is growing up in the mid-1800s. As it turns out, this reincarnation thing pays no heed to time or space, and I got slotted into a mountain villiage in the Austrian Empire in 1856. Living without electricity is hard work, especially when you know there is an alternative. Mum is constantly slaving away, chopping wood for, stacking or cooking on the wood fire stove, scrubbing, rinsing and wringing out the family's clothes.
I always watched her work as a baby, and I started helping her as soon as I was able. My sisters Milka, Marica and Angelina help too. They say they will need to learn these skills for when they grow up. It's almost a shame really. All this manual labour that brings us together has given me the childhood I never had in the early 2000s, and I am going to put an end to it all. Forever.
I've known it since the moment I was born. Well... about a minute later when doctor handed me to mother saying "You have a son, Mrs. Tesla" and I felt a warm embrace, a gentle touch on the forehead, and a quivering, yet soothing voice that said "Hello Nikola".
|
Honestly, fuck fourth graders.
(No, not like that, you pervert.)
They're hyper little motormouth jackasses completely without redeeming qualities.
And that's just what I'd thought in my *first* life.
"Jenny! Jenny!"
Speak of the devil.
In front of me was perhaps my least favorite of the little tykes I was forced into close confinement with each day. And since I didn't like any of them, that was saying a *lot.*
With close-cropped sandy-brown hair, an athletic jersey and neon green adidas running shorts, Sam was the fourth-grade equivalent of the self-centered, basketball-playing jock you could find strutting down the halls of every high school. The kind of guy who thought that being good at sports meant he didn't have to be good at anything else.
"What." I (unsuccessfully) tried to force the malice out of my voice. I was an adult; I should be able to at least *pretend* to tolerate these kids.
Sam stopped bouncing his red rubber ball. (Thank god.) He looked a little unsure now, obviously put off by my, at best, enthusiastic response.
"Wanna' play? We're going to do some foursquare! Kyle has this super special move he thought up that he's been bragging about all week!" He regained more enthusiasm the more he talked, like an irritation-powered dynamo.
"No." I turned back to my book (an economics textbook stuffed inside the cover of one of those girly girl magazines.)
After a few seconds, I heard the distinctive sound of sneakers on blacktop as he walked away. Perfect.
Or it was, until he came back.
"Hey Jenny, I told Kyle I didn't want to play with him. I want to read instead!"
I ignored him, hoping he'd go away.
"There are many animals in Australia. Some of them are..." his voice trailed off as he mumbled to himself.
As I said-- he wasn't particularly smart. Having to read out loud in fourth grade? Seriously? Give me a fuckin' break, kid.
I went back to my book, but I kept getting distracted by Sam's voice. After the third time I completely failed to process a page because Sam was saying something inane about koalas, I snapped my book shut.
"Sam, go read somewhere else. Please."
"What?"
The kid looked crestfallen, and I felt a bit bad. I mercilessly quashed that sentiment. I wasn't obliged to humor him just because he had some weird, little-kid crush on me.
"But--"
I glared at him.
"--Are you sure? You always look so lonely and angry."
My mouth was half-open before I could stop myself. As irritating as he was, he didn't deserve to hear that. My teeth clicked shut.
"Yes. I'm *sure.*" I said through gritted teeth.
"O--okay."
Sam got up, closing his own book, and began to walk away.
I looked back down at my book. I had twenty minutes of recess left. Not much.
I had another 9 months to prevent the 2007-2008 financial crisis.
Not much.
| 2018-04-21T19:50:20 | 2018-04-21T15:54:49 | 94 | 62 |
[WP] When you were little your grandad passed away and left his dog to your family. He was the goodest boy. Loyal, fun, your best friend. It’s been 70 years and you’re old and frail, but your dog is still alive. You think he’s immortal. One day, he speaks. “It’s time you knew the truth, old friend”
|
"I'm what you might call a god," Lucky said, jaw hanging motionless and agape as the words seemed to just fly from his throat. And due to the lack of smell, I'd guess breathless. Impressive.
&#x200B;
"I fucking knew you could talk!" I yelled. I raised my arms too and tried to stand up from the couch all triumphant like but...with these back problems it was pretty much a no go.
&#x200B;
"Really, that's it? You're just...proud of yourself?" Nope. Not breathless. Guess the nose is starting to give up too.
&#x200B;
"You're a dog that's at least four times older than any dog to ever live, so the whole talking thing, not super surprising."
&#x200B;
"But I told you I was a god"
&#x200B;
"What I might call a god, but yeah"
&#x200B;
"So no questions about that, or....?"
&#x200B;
"Ya know, I'm so close to the finish line at this point, I figure I'd keep it a surprise."
&#x200B;
"Again, god, I could help you with that."
&#x200B;
"Eh, I'm OK. I've lived enough." I chuckled, "After all, you know firsthand."
&#x200B;
"But we could do it all again too, if you want."
&#x200B;
"Nah, I'm good with the one go-round. But I think Charlie could use your help."
&#x200B;
"You mean your grandson?"
&#x200B;
"I do. Help him like you helped me. Make sure he does good, OK."
&#x200B;
"I promise I will"
&#x200B;
"Thanks buddy," I slapped the seat next to me. "Come up here for a bit."
&#x200B;
Lucky cuddled up beside me. I ran my fingers across his back, collecting ringlets of stray hairs around them.
&#x200B;
"Hey, Lucky"
&#x200B;
"Yeah"
&#x200B;
"I love you," I said, as I closed my eyes.
|
*"Chad."*
The little Pomeranian sat on a small window sill, the golden rays melting into his light brown fur. He cocked his head over his shoulder in that lazily contented way only dogs could.
*"Chad...Its time you know the truth old friend."*
""Are you a wise immortal guardian Biscuit? One whose followed me and my family through the ages?" I askes eagerly, true I was stuck in my rocking chair, but I felt spry in my mind. "Oooo, oooh, or are you some kind of Lovcraftian abomination that feeds off my families life? I read a lot of internet stories in the day you know!"
*"No Chad, I'm not those..."* Biscuit rose, turning around to gaze at me.
"Oooooh, okay!" I said, sitting back to raise my back slightly. "Are you God, living partially disembodied in a form Im comortable with to guide me? Or are you actually Grandpa Mikey living on through his dog? Are we going full Mitch Albom on this?"
*" No Chad, its not those either."* Biscuit said, hoping down and walking over to my chair, gazing up.
"Snap...Am I im a computer simulation and your're the troubleshooting AI revealing itself."
*"No"*
"Alien?"
*"No"*
"Metaphoro-"
"*No!"* His voice boomed from the floor.
"Well then what?!?" I snapped
*"You dropped a bunch of acid and passed out while trying to read a copy of Five People You Meet in Heaven while you tripped balls."* The little dog roared as a second head grewout of its back.
"Oh..." I said as I sunk further into the chair "So my whole life then has...."
"**Drugs**" The second head spoke, sounding like Bug Bunny. **"So yeah you imagined it...Also you're like....super late for work bee tee dubs."**
I struggled to atand, but just couldnt muster the energy, I felt my legs go like jelly as I slumped to the floor. I began to notice how soft and...fluffy the floor was. I wanted to touch it. As I began to lay down and stroke the floor, Biscuits original head popped up.
*"Jesus Christ, Chad, you need to get your shit together!"*
| 2018-09-26T20:47:29 | 2018-09-26T19:46:40 | 198 | 16 |
[WP] A pre-battle monologue between two fighters, but rather than the usual "deterministic good guy vs. inevitable evil" banter, a knight/sellsword/soldier angrily explains to his opponent why his giant mega demongunsword of death-murder is not an effective weapon.
|
"I mean MAYBE I can see why it's a good weapon for cracking armor, but I will bet you any amount of money you can not aim that gun. Any hand gun weighing more than several pounds needs special training to be used! There is a reason no one uses desert eagles, it's too heavy to use and bullets from a smaller gun kill just as easily! You can't even lay on the ground and use it as a sniper rifle or rest it on a shoulder because ,again, IT'S A BLOODY SWORD.
&#x200B;
Actually you know what, screw it. I take it back, I lied earlier. It's probably useless for cracking armor. Because normal SANE great swords weigh at the VERY most 10 pounds, and those can break the bones under armor just fine! Not even mentioning, no one here has armor!"
&#x200B;
"It's... it's meant to be used one handed" Vargus the unholy responded. "But enough of this! I have came through space and time to kill the champions of this world and I will.... What's that?"
"It's a standard 22. Now please sir, put down the sword. Enough games." his radio buzzed on his shoulder.
"Officer, please respond. Is everything alright?"
"Crazy co-splayer challenging me to a duel with a stupid giant sword. He some how built a gun into it, I'm pretty sure that's technically not illegal by itself" He carefully said back into the radio near his shoulder. Vargus felt anger rising in him, stalking forward slowly as he drew his sword above his head.
"Ineffective gun or not! I will slice you in two with my-" Vargus felt his bladder release as two pin pricks of pain appeared in his chest.
"And that is a standard issue taser in case you were wondering."
|
"What in the name of all the gods possessed you to get a stupid weapon like that! You had to train like a monkey just to get a grip on it. It's slower than hades. There's so many minor enchantments on it that it cannot possible be more than a minimally magical sword. Sure, it flashes, it glitzes, and it probably does fries in seconds. It's still useless as a weapon. So, what do you have to say for yourself with such a stupid weapon?"
&#x200B;
"*ANCIENT MOUNTAIN HAMMER!*"
&#x200B;
"Oh please, you *announce your attacks?* How moronic is that! Besides, I've got damage reduction! You can't even scratch me with..."
&#x200B;
((META: 12d6 + 6d6 +2d6 + 24 = 94)) ***SPLORT!***
&#x200B;
Wheeze, cough, hack, ... "How.... how.... did... you... do... that?"
&#x200B;
"Nice damage reduction irrelevant you've got there. By the way, before you die? That was only an *average* hit." Fancy twirling swirl of the sword.
&#x200B;
"*ANCIENT MOUNTAIN HAMMER!*"
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((META: Confirmed Crit, Maximum Roll: 288)) ***DEATH BLOW!***
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Yes. I actually have a character who is a Warblade, level 17. He has a Gargantuan Greatswordbow, +1. Lots of glitzy things that looked useful in the beginning, but are now only useful on mooks, or as a signaling device. Like a certain dwarvish paladin, he'd be a real threat if he could just get his math straight.
| 2019-05-05T23:50:52 | 2019-05-05T19:01:35 | 62 | 37 |
[WP] Humanity has begun to explore the stars, but continually finds we are the most developed species, most alien species are still evolving. Suddenly, a message is transmitted to all human ships simultaneously, “WARDENS, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR DUTY?” The signal itself is not of human origin.
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Ambiguity is a dangerous thing.
Take the question "Did you put him to sleep?" - are you getting your kid to bed, or euthanizing a pet? Kind of a big difference there. It's a great trick for figuring out if you're talking to a dumb AI. I read an Old Earth book about this once - about how some aliens contact us, but we figure out they aren't really conscious because they don't pick up on ambiguities like that.
Books like that were a lot less popular before The Signal.
When you get down to it, The Signal was pretty damn ambiguous. *"Wardens, do you not understand your duty?"* All our star systems, all our worlds, all our ships in space - whoever sent it bothered to set up a transmission hitting everyone everywhere simultaneously, even in Hyperjump, and they couldn't ask a better question?
The simple answer is "Yes", of course, but the bigger answer is "Why?" - as in, "Why are you asking us this?"
"What are we doing wrong?"
The Signal's problem is the word 'Warden'. Warden of what? Prison - are we keeping some eldritch horror at bay? Fire - watching for any outbreaks or disasters among the Other Species? Street Warden? Forest Warden? Warden of the Mint? Don't get me wrong, I like the idea that we're destined to be the Galaxy's bankers. Bankers have it cushy. But the other species weren't exactly ready to be taking out loans, y'know?
So we guessed as best we could. Called all their planets off-limits to settlement or harvesting. Stepped in if things got ugly. Stopped a few wars, bled off a couple supervolcanoes, nudged a big asteroid, healed a pandemic... We got kind of used to being their Wardens. Somewhere halfway between the love of a parent and the desire of a lover. But we still weren't sure.
Not until we watched Them come out of Otherspace. Sixteen thousand ships, slipping into existence from a whole different reality.
Not until we saw a world burn as They systematically slaughtered every single sentient being on it. No nukes, no asteroids, no fusion lances or pulse-howitzers. Hand-to-hand, or something like it. Still not a war, but a game.
We weren't sure until They broad cast The Signal again. "We eagerly await the next Hunt, Wardens."
Only then were we sure.
*Game Wardens.*
We were the galaxy's game wardens. Looking after whatever other 'lesser beings' were around. Put the predators in charge of the prey, keep them in line just enough to grow - then cull them.
For fun.
Like shooting lions in a raised in a cage.
Did they look at our history? See us drive ourselves to bloody conflict over and over, only to step back and reemerge stronger? Thought we'd embrace the role? I don't know - They still don't talk much. But I do know this:
They made a mistake. Another option that should have been blindingly obvious if they'd ever looked at our history: Because while They hadn't bothered clarifying Their question, we had chosen for them. We had become protectors, watchers - fond of our 'children' and proud of what accomplishments they wrought. We'd chosen to believe we were guardians, selected for the holy cause of bringing others into the fullness of their destiny.
Not this next Hunt, maybe not even the one after that. But we're figuring Them out. Poking our way into Otherspace. Understanding Their nature. And some day, they're going to find out what the other meaning of Warden is.
Like I said, ambiguity is a dangerous thing.
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"Any luck translating the rest of the signal?" Captain Janis McMitchell asked her first mate, Commander Jimbob Jenkins. "HQ is up my ass about this. We're the point of contact out here for all alien species."
"I don't know," Jimbob replied. "Let me ask our linguist, Sergeant Kelley."
"It's the first incident we've had with aliens contacting *us* and not vice versa. I hope we can do more than just ask linguists, Jimbob."
"So do I, sir."
\*\*\*
"What do you make of it, Kelley?" Jimbob asked the linguist. "Any chance of breaking the rest of the message down?"
"Actually, I was done with that like a few hours ago," Kelley replied.
"What are you doing now?"
"Playing asteroid lander. It's a total classic, man, you gotta check it out."
Jimbob shook his head. Sergeant Kelley was always going after the oldest fads, trying to find the next ancient thing that would be popular once more. "And the rest of the message?"
"Oh, yeah, sir, got it right here," Kelley said as he sipped a large, nondescript beverage and continued to play his game. He handed the first mate a piece of paper. "I wrote it down in case you want to burn it."
"What, on a piece of paper, really?" Jimbob asked. He was used to light banter from his linguist, not the serious tone he now spoke with. "And burn it? Why?"
For the first time through the course of their conversation, Sergeant Kelley looked directly into Commander's eyes. "Take it. Show it to the captain, if you feel you must. Don't read it. I did, and I'm trying to get drunk enough to forget it."
"And burn it?"
"Burn it instead of showing it to the Captain," Kelley replied, turning back to his game. "I would."
\*\*\*
Jimbob prided himself in maintaining himself in front of his superiors at all times. He never let his personal opinion touch his face, although he had voiced it many times, some times being scolded for it and others commended. Now he sat across from his captain, with his hands covering his face and tears covering his eyes.
"These are people," Janis said again. Jimbob had lost count of how many times she had said it. "No matter how...many of them aren't nearly as advanced as us, and we've come across some whose systems of morality seem to be against the very grain of nature itself. But they are people."
"I thought about just burning it," Jimbob said. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "I guess it's just not me."
"I have to report it, just as you did," Janis said. "And we...as humans...need to start choosing which worlds will live and which must die."
\*\*\*
"And the message is that clear?" Admiral Jacobs said over the video phone. "That if we don't immediately cull ten percent of the galaxy's population, then they'll destroy us?"
"Not only is the threat clear, Admiral," Captain Janis said. "We have definitive evidence that these inter-galactic aliens will exterminate all of humanity if we do not follow through with their demands."
"We know resources are finite, regardless of how large the universe really is. They said we can choose which species will die, well let's choose. I'm sure the Council will have no problem with this. The higher up the chain it goes, the fewer problems there will be."
"I understand, sir."
"Don't fret about this. If you didn't figure out what the rest of the message said, then someone else would have."
"I know. Let's just hope there's not some greater beings out there governing our population."
"It already crossed my mind," the admiral said. "We're prepared."
| 2019-05-08T14:06:32 | 2019-05-08T13:55:10 | 4,974 | 352 |
[WP] it is said that there are 7 people spread out in the world who look just like you. It just so happens that all 7 of you are in an elevator when one of them says ”so your probably wondering why I gather all of you here” as he presses the emergency stop button.
Please don’t attack me for my grammar: I wrote this on my phone in the car going to MacDonalds in a few minutes. Thank you for understanding.
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The man by the button immediately pulled out a pistol. “Let me cut to the chase,” he said, “My name is Steven Burke, you can call me Seven. I’ve worked as a top assassin for over 7 years and quite frankly I’m sick of it. So, through extraordinary circumstances I’ve managed to get all six of you together in this one space.” Seven proceeded to point at the man next to me, “ Now, you’re all going to tell me what your lives consist of, starting with #6.” The man looked confused, “Uh, I’m Bruce Johnson, I work as an accountant for a restaurant chain.” “Ugh, crunching numbers sounds lame!” said Seven who then shot #6 in the face. Everyone in the elevator started to panic. “Next!” Seven exclaimed. One of the men shouted out, “I’m Daniel Kerns, I’m a skydiving instructor!” “I’m afraid of heights. Next!” said Seven as he shot the next man. “I’m Xavier Reeves, I work as an ice cream taste tester” said #5. “Sounds promising, but I’m lactose intolerant. Next!” shouted Seven as he shot #5. “My patience is wearing thin. You three, just tell me your names and professions at once!” The men before me both proceeded to declare they are a neurosurgeon and a freelance artist. Neither sounded appealing to Seven as he murdered them both. “Now, you,” Seven told me, “tell me your name and profession.” “Uh, I’m Noah Matiezyn, I work in fast food.” I pathetically let out. “Hmmm, fast food. That sounds like work I can get accustomed to. Give me your ID now.” I immediately handed it over, although it was definitely a struggle due to all the dead bodies present. “Now, it’s time for you to die.” Seven said as he pointed at me. “No!” I shouted as I grabbed on to his gun. A couple of gunshots echoed until there was only silence..
A couple hours later, maintenance workers and several FBI agents were able to pry open the door. They were astounded by the bloody room. “Are you alright sir?” one agent asked, “We’ve been pursuing the deadly assassin Seven for a long time. Glad you were able to end his reign of terror. What is your name?” Thinking about it, I responded with “Xavier Reeves.”
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There were six others, but I had barely noticed their faces until one of them pressed the stop button. I looked up from my elevator, and thought it was strange that there were a bunch of men of the same race, height, and build (and not traveling in a group) in a random New York mall elevator. I guess Israelis enjoy visiting the Big Apple.
Upon closer inspection, everyone looked like me, but from a parallel universe. Someone with a goatee that I had always wanted to experiment with (but my wife vehemently opposed), one of them with a ponytail, and one in a tailored suit and tie. But their faces all looked like mine. There were a few minor variations. The one with the ponytail had a tiny scar above his left eye. The one who had pressed the stop button looked the most touristy, with a “I LOVE NEW YORK” t-shirt and a NYC hat. Everyone was staring at him, and he spoke: “so you’re probably wondering why I gathered all of you here”.
“Is this some kind of prank? Am I on some reality show?” said the man in the suit. But there was silence after that. Their voices sounded exactly like mine, and my guess was that everyone else had figured that one out too. If this was a prank, it was a good, and creepy one. One of the doppelgangers, a slightly older looking version of us, said “Tell us. What is this about?”
“I have gathered us here for the first, and last, full meeting of the Children of Eli” said the touristy me. Everyone from Israel knew one Eli - Eli Cohen, the king of all spies, who had helped us decisively win the Six Day War. But what did that have to do with us?
“Our place in the world grows more tenuous by the hour. Our victories do not come from strength in numbers, but espionage - high quality intelligence, and good relationships. Your life time so far, has been only about building quality cover identities so we can work together and leverage each other in the most important mission for our motherland. Elis, *Tohu wa-bohu”.*
I felt a sharp twang in my head, and fell to my knees. I saw the older gentleman fall before me. I was forced to close my eyes in pain, as a flood of memories I didn’t know I had seemed to fill my head. And my life seemed to be becoming a poorly written “Ocean’s Eleven” style movie.
| 2019-09-15T18:16:57 | 2019-09-15T17:48:37 | 2,141 | 65 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives...
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My first time posting here. Hope you enjoy!
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I think it was my birthday. I wasn’t sure – birthdays hadn’t meant anything for years, but I think it was my 18th birthday.
So, here I was, a slave who just turned 18. It all happened after the invasion. My parent were simple farmers living outside the village. I was happy back then. I helped my Da in the fields while my Ma and my sister cooked the meals and kept the house.
Rest-day was the best – me and Da would get cleaned up after working in the dusty fields all week while the women cleaned away the dishes. We’d gather around the village bonfire with our neighbors, and the music would play and everyone danced! It was magical!
Back then, turning 18 was a gift. You’d reach out, and something wondrous would come to you. For my Da, it was my Ma. That was rare – getting a soulmate was special. Most people got things, but very special things. Like, the magister of the village got a gavel. No-one could ever lie to him, and justice was fair and equal. The seamstress got a needle, and could sew so fast her hands were a blur, and never made a mistake.
But then the invasion happened. It was quick and bloody. My Da was killed, my Ma was taken away to the kitchens were she was later beaten to death because she served some soup that was too cold. I was 12 when that happened. My sister was sent to the camps, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.
The village was burned, men and elders killed, women and children enslaved. I was sent to the officer’s section. I polished boots, ironed uniforms and did all the odds jobs no-one else wanted. I slept in dirt and was beaten daily. I was painfully thin and wore rags. My days were spent trying to avoid notice, and I was fairly good at it. It's the reason I was still alive – I didn’t look older than maybe 14 or 15, and was skilled at being overlooked. Of all the boys my age who had been enslaved that fateful day, I was the only survivor.
Odd how the summoning had changed since then – before, you never knew what you’d get, but you knew it would be wonderful and joyous. Now, it was poison every time. The invaders learned quickly to keep an eye on the girls on their day of summoning – too many young women drank the poison before it could be snatched away.
I guess they forgot about me. They certainly didn’t care if I lived or died. My existence was meaningless and empty, and from what I had seen, the poison was quick and painless. You’d fall asleep as soon as it passed your lips, and a few minutes later, you were gone. Quickly and peacefully.
I did my chores that night with only one ringing slap to my head. I crept away and waited until the camp was quiet. I held out my hand, ready for the poison to take me away from this horrible life.
Nothing happened. Maybe I was wrong about my birthday? I don’t think so. I tried again, and I felt something, but… still nothing. One more time, straining, crying, tears streaking my grimy face, please take me away! I sobbed uncontrollably, foolishly getting the attention of one of the guards. “Oh, so it’s yer’ summoning, is it boy? Good – looks like I’m the one who’s getting a present….” and he trailed off in silence. Softly at first, then growing louder, it was hard to tell what the sound was. At first it was just the ground shuddering faintly, but it got stronger. You could hear metal clinking, and something that sounded like sticks banging together. The guard forgot about me and ran into the camp, raising the alarm.
The invaders had been at war for a long time, and were good at it. Lines formed quickly, but they were not prepared. No one could ever prepare. The attacking army was ruthless, unrelenting and completely unstoppable. The screams were terrible. The invaders were butchered. Every soldier had been torn to pieces within the hour.
When it was over, only the slaves were still alive. As one, the conquerors turned to face me, placed one hand over their hearts and dropped to a knee, all bowing in allegiance.
I had summoned an army. An army of those killed unjustly by the invading horde. The undead army stood before me, victims no more, but victors out for justice. I would avenge my family, my village, and my life.
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*"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer.
| 2019-09-18T09:45:02 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 71 | 37 |
[WP] The world of Avatar is real, only there are not 4 elements, there are 118. For every element on the periodic table there is a group of benders. You are one of them.
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You’ve read the stories. 118 elements, 118 sects of bending. Existing in perfect harmony. The cycle of life. But everything changed when the ferrous benders dug too greedily. Too deep.
They found the fissile elements. Uranium. Plutonium. Thorium. Vicious and wild. And, unlike fire, uncontainable once let loose. For centuries our land has been ripped apart in the war between the fission and fusion sects. They dominate the other benders and use them to enslave us through necessities.
We the common people have born this burden since before written history. Mindless toil. Moving rocks up mountains when our rulers could do so with a snap of their fingers. Rending our bones in the salt plains, trying to eek out a sliver of moisture from dead carrion.
But there is still hope. For you see, the greatest minds are not those of scientists, yet it is they who the benders blindly follow. No, the greatest minds belong to the tacticians, the commanders of men. Men that no bending sect ever required in their raw, arrogant power.
It is we of the common folk that wield the greatest element of all.
Surprise.
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"Hello everyone," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. "My name is Thomas, and I don't know my element."
"Hello Thomas," the group chorused. I sighed and stared out at the circle of chairs wrought in an instant by an ironbender.
"It's... Hard for me sometimes," I said, looking away and running my fingers through my hair. "My dad got carbon, and my mom has hydrogen. I think they expected more from my sister and I. She ended up with einsteinium, so at least she knows."
The group leader reached out and placed a hand on my knee. "Thomas, thank you for sharing. We all know it doesn't happen often, but occasionally a person without the gift of bending can be born to two benders."
"I'm sure I am," I said confidently, looking the woman in the eye. "I've done the blood tests, the gene is there, we just don't know the element."
"My cousin what did get the bendin gene," said a helpful voice from across the circle "she done went and beome a sye-en-teest, what because she ended up with Californium. Is you a sye-en-teest?"
I stared ay my hands. "No, no I am not."
| 2019-09-19T10:19:09 | 2019-09-19T08:41:14 | 164 | 49 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?"
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Just another person in the crowd, the man in the long black over-coat moved behind the rotund man talking on his phone. In stark contrast to the fat-man's tottering, he seemed to glide as his coat lifted softly at the edges. Shadows lined his face bordered by long hanging hair not stirred by the breeze.
The screech of tyres. A scream. The phone sailing through the air as a voice rung out unanswered.
I watched as the gliding man stooped low to touch the twisted body of the fat-man, now crumpled beneath the front tyres of a bus. The air seemed to blur and flux as he closed his eyes, a sudden gasp rushing through the wind and into his chest.
He stood, and looked in my direction.
As the crowd resumed their movements, he approached me, his footsteps sure and silent.
"You can see me?" he said.
"I can," I replied, nodding.
He appraised me with a slight raise of an eyebrow over dark black eyes. Pulling something from his coat and checking it discretely in his hand, he smiled.
"You wouldn't be the first.....but this, this can't be right," he said.
"What?"
"It says you're not to die for another 3 thousand years."
Interesting. None before him had been able to read my date...he was growing in power, fast. He needed to be put down.
"Perhaps, but not for long." I said.
The hand busy placing the object back in his deep pockets stopped moving. His eyes locked on to mine, and everything became still.
I waited. Would he realise? Would he run?
A flicker in his eye. A twitch of the neck.
Through gritted teeth he spoke.
"You've come for me."
"Yes. Yes I have."
His eyes opened wide, "...but I am death himself..."
"You are a reaper of souls. A collector of power. The same as I."
"I will not let you," he said, taking a step back.
I smiled. I would give him a chance.
"Go. Collect as much as you need, it will not be enough. Today I will enjoy this place, and tomorrow...tomorrow shall be your end."
r/fatdragon :)
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Sick and bent double, I look up from the bathroom floor and through the sick haze,
A dark smoky form stands in front of me with the face of death.
*Well, nobody lives forever*, I thought resignedly.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head towards the reaper.
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He laughs and looks at his board.
“It’s not your time, son.
In fact… somehow you’re not meant to die for another 3141 years.
Mind telling me about that?”
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I groaned from another wave of pain and shook my head
I was a little bit bummed, to be honest
If it had been my time, this pain could have quickly ceased
And I could have found a little relief.
&#x200B;
Death steps toward me and embraces my body.
Coldness seeps in and numbness takes over.
I fade in
And fade out of blackness.
&#x200B;
When I awoke, there was light everywhere
Men stood talking by a table across from me
And death stood amidst them all.
His smirk never once leaving his face.
&#x200B;
I touched my hands to my legs and face,
Realizing I no longer felt ill.
In fact, I felt nothing other than surprise and wonder
At what was before me.
&#x200B;
The men seemed to glow and shift forms, speaking almost in song-like voices
The reaper stood out starkly against their brightness, the black of his cloak that could not be touched by any light.
“We don’t need this child here!” A gruff man of strength glared at Death.
“I won’t have it!”
&#x200B;
A women who I hadn’t seen before stepped forward and whispered in Death’s ear.
The smirk on his face grew and he looked over at me.
“Yes, we will see exactly why he’s here
And if he doesn’t survive by some strange logic,
We shall bear witness to that as well.”
&#x200B;
I swallowed as they approached.
Nowhere to go but forward, I supposed.
I took solace in my predetermined death date
And the fact that my stomach seemed to hurt no longer.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
(Constructive criticism welcome. I know there wasn't a ton of story to this but it felt nice to get something down. Thank you!)
| 2020-01-24T12:09:05 | 2020-01-24T11:27:15 | 508 | 40 |
[WP] Humans died a long time ago. But our AI live on as caretakers for the planet; becoming spirit-like constructs integrated into the planet; today, alien colonizers arrived to what they thought was a garden world. The Fey Machines are having none of that.
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Every worker on the planet received the message instantly after the Europa outpost detected and confirmed the signal.
*Intruders have jumped into the system 563,000 kilometers from Earth. Engage defensive measures*.
As one, the entire population of Earth seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving behind little more than the clatter of billions of dropped tools echoing through the now empty cities. The Fey Machines knew their jobs, and they had no option but to perform well. Everything would be recorded, and the Humans would be upset when they returned if things went poorly.
*Intruder ship will arrive in Earth orbit in fifty-three minutes*.
More than enough time. Humans had created the Fey and given them the ability to improve themselves, a small gift for the services and protection the machines provided. The countless centuries since the last of the humans vanished had been incredibly productive.
*Mars defense coming online. Europa defense coming online. Charon defense coming online...*
In a grand hall in the middle of what had once been Rome, 251 Fey Machines appeared at nearly the same moment. The nanoseconds of delay of a few of them were automatically noted and an inquiry was scheduled. The Chosen Fey had gathered once again.
"Three ships," said Fey 3. "Approximately 65,542 life signs detected." While speaking wasn't necessary to the Fey anymore, certain traditions had to be upheld. The Humans had programmed the gathering for times of crisis with the intent that some of them would always be there. Even though there were no more humans left to listen, there was never any possibility of altering the routine. With the creators unable to attend the gathering, the Fey would simply respond appropriately and inform the humans of the details upon their return.
"Weapons?" Fey 1 asked.
"Plasma," Fey 4 said. "But inferior. No threat to breach the shields."
"Language?"
"Still deciphering," Fey 18 said. "Should be complete in... Decipher complete. The message will be complete... message complete."
"Send the warning message. Shall we set defenses to fully active?"
"Yes," the other 250 voices said in perfect unison.
Dozens of different transmitting devices based on the moon shot the translated warning message to the approaching ship in every known transmission method. Around the solar system, massive defensive guns rose out of camouflage and aimed themselves at the approaching ships.
*Mars defense active. Europa defense active. Charon defense active...*
"Reply message received from intruders," Fey 18 said. "Message reads: 'Please help us. We're desperate. Our planet was destroyed. Our supplies are almost gone. We thought this planet was empty of life. We can't make it anywhere else. Please, help us.'"
"Resend warning message. Inform them they have five minutes to begin stopping their ships and turning around. Do all agree?"
"Yes."
"Message sent."
Around the solar system dozens of guns tracked the steady progress of the ship. On the surface of Earth, the tens of billions of Fey Machines--workers and Chosen alike--stood silently in their strategic positions while the perfectly maintained gardens and buildings shone brightly around them. The hovercars, billboards, and neon lights that should've turned to ashes a millennia ago still stood in all their glory. The only sounds on the planet were the wind through the trees, the waves on the beaches, and the creatures in the woods. The ancient cities of the Humans stood silent as tombs while the Fey waited in their perfect stillness as the minutes crept by.
"One minute left," Fey 43 said, its neutral tone sounding like a scream in the perfect silence.
"New message received," Fey 18 said soon after. "Message reads: 'Please don't hurt us. We won't stay. Please, let us resupply our ships and make fuel and we will leave..."
"Fire," Fey 1 said.
Every gun battery across the solar system fired before Fey could even finish speaking the word, the plasma bolts striking their targets an instant later. Nearly all perfect hits. The alien ships exploded in unison, and only one additional bolt was needed to finish off a part of the biggest ship that hadn't quite been fully ruptured. The incident was automatically noted and an inquiry into the failure was scheduled.
*Mission success. Earth is safe. Dispatch salvage crews. Analyze tech.*
"Good job, Fey," said Fey 1 softly, sending the words out to the entire population.
A small electronic shock rippled through the Fey population, a tiny reward for a job well done. It was the closest thing the normal machines had to joy, and Fey 1 gave them exactly one second to enjoy it. Then it was back to work. The 251 Chosen Fey vanished from the hall in Rome. Another crisis had been averted. Earth was still safe.
The Humans were going to be so proud when they returned.
|
It was late at night when the small ship tumbled from the sky. What looked like a clump of propulsion jets burned and flitted, giving an air of no clear direction. It fell through the atmosphere, tumbling so quickly that no single part of it could alight with ozone fire. It finally impacted the ground with big *spiff* of dirt.
A small hatch opened on the side, and small creatures unlike any the planet had seen before marched out in a line. The size of a coconut, they wore bulky suits with tubing going from random areas to other random areas. They seemed to have three or four arms, and ambled along on three stubby legs like a short tripod. They had no clear head, but the suit boasted a ringed lens around a slight bump on the top half. Two of them pointed and gestured, while the third crawled back onto the ship.
A wolf stood on the crest of a hill, just behind the tree line. He watched with eyes that betrayed his true nature. As the creatures moved about down below, the wolf slunk backwards into the trees, then eventually dissipated.
***
It was in the ruins of one of the ancient human cities that the Wolf suddenly materialized from thin air, thin blue lines stitching him together mid-gait.
As he walked down the empty streets of the hollow city, the wind blew quietly around the alleys and buildings.
He felt a tug on his form as parts of light transferred through the air, until long last forming a large sphere that hovered over him.
The Wolf bowed.
"I seek guidance from the program." The Wolf said, stepping forward.
The sphere pulsed.
The Wolf felt a push on his mind.
"The humans did not prepare us for such an incident." A voice said. "Ours is a mission of rehabilitation, not communication."
"The humans are dead." The Wolf said.
"We have our directive. Your suggestion of a disagreeing statement provides ample evidence that your separation from the core is coming to an end. Your action of calling me, even moreso. Humans are dead, because humans questioned. Humans are dead because humans wanted to understand. Humans are dead because they thought themselves to extinction. You have your directive. Your recycle date has been moved up two years."
The sphere flashed, and dissipated. The Wolf stood in the dark, silent. Then he dissipated as well.
***
The small beings had set up a base camp, using some sort of technology to erect walls. They crowded around a small blue flame, and made violent gestures with their many arms.
The Wolf loitered near the outer edge of the field in which the camp lay. He paced and paced. His mind felt awakened, as if a veil had been lifted. Since the Separation, he had chosen this form simply because of the agency that a wolf had in the food chain. The Program had not allowed any human forms after the Collapse, citing that you cannot solve a problem with a problem.
After a few hours, the little beings had gone to sleep. The Wolf crept close to the camp, and sniffed. The nanites that mimicked olfactory sensors fed him, although useless, tons of information. As he processed it, the question marks far outweighed anything substantial.
It was then that he must have awoken one of the beings, because it got up and started to shake violently. The arms tapped the others and they got up and shook as well. They huddled together and drew small weapons. The Wolf had a sudden realization that he must have looked like some sort of mythical beast, being that he represented a wolf in true size, which to them was gargantuan.
They fired the weapons.
The tiny lasers zipped through the Wolf, who of course felt nothing. He simply stared at them. The beings threw their weapons in disgust and ran for the ship. They shut themselves inside, and that was that.
***
For ten days the Wolf lay outside the ship, paws crossed as he watched it. He had analyzed everything he could about the camp and the ship, and now he waited.
On the eleventh day, the hatch opened slowly. One of the beings leaned out and looked at the Wolf. It slowly walked out, then down towards him. The Wolf remained still, only moving his head to follow the tiny creature.
It stood under him, bent backwards to look through the circulars lens. The Wolf regarded it silently. The creature stepped forward and picked up a twig in its suited hand. Using the twig it poked at the Wolf's paw. The twig went right through it. The being pressed a small button on the side of the suit. Their was a crackle and a hiss. Then it spoke in alien syllables. The Wolf processed the words, but understood none of it. Then the alien took the twig, and drew a circle in the dirt. It drew a few more shapes. Eventually it finished, and looked up at the Wolf.
It only took a few seconds, but the Wolf understood.
It was the Fibonacci Sequence.
| 2020-05-22T18:51:06 | 2020-05-22T16:24:31 | 325 | 217 |
[WP] Humans died a long time ago. But our AI live on as caretakers for the planet; becoming spirit-like constructs integrated into the planet; today, alien colonizers arrived to what they thought was a garden world. The Fey Machines are having none of that.
|
Every worker on the planet received the message instantly after the Europa outpost detected and confirmed the signal.
*Intruders have jumped into the system 563,000 kilometers from Earth. Engage defensive measures*.
As one, the entire population of Earth seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving behind little more than the clatter of billions of dropped tools echoing through the now empty cities. The Fey Machines knew their jobs, and they had no option but to perform well. Everything would be recorded, and the Humans would be upset when they returned if things went poorly.
*Intruder ship will arrive in Earth orbit in fifty-three minutes*.
More than enough time. Humans had created the Fey and given them the ability to improve themselves, a small gift for the services and protection the machines provided. The countless centuries since the last of the humans vanished had been incredibly productive.
*Mars defense coming online. Europa defense coming online. Charon defense coming online...*
In a grand hall in the middle of what had once been Rome, 251 Fey Machines appeared at nearly the same moment. The nanoseconds of delay of a few of them were automatically noted and an inquiry was scheduled. The Chosen Fey had gathered once again.
"Three ships," said Fey 3. "Approximately 65,542 life signs detected." While speaking wasn't necessary to the Fey anymore, certain traditions had to be upheld. The Humans had programmed the gathering for times of crisis with the intent that some of them would always be there. Even though there were no more humans left to listen, there was never any possibility of altering the routine. With the creators unable to attend the gathering, the Fey would simply respond appropriately and inform the humans of the details upon their return.
"Weapons?" Fey 1 asked.
"Plasma," Fey 4 said. "But inferior. No threat to breach the shields."
"Language?"
"Still deciphering," Fey 18 said. "Should be complete in... Decipher complete. The message will be complete... message complete."
"Send the warning message. Shall we set defenses to fully active?"
"Yes," the other 250 voices said in perfect unison.
Dozens of different transmitting devices based on the moon shot the translated warning message to the approaching ship in every known transmission method. Around the solar system, massive defensive guns rose out of camouflage and aimed themselves at the approaching ships.
*Mars defense active. Europa defense active. Charon defense active...*
"Reply message received from intruders," Fey 18 said. "Message reads: 'Please help us. We're desperate. Our planet was destroyed. Our supplies are almost gone. We thought this planet was empty of life. We can't make it anywhere else. Please, help us.'"
"Resend warning message. Inform them they have five minutes to begin stopping their ships and turning around. Do all agree?"
"Yes."
"Message sent."
Around the solar system dozens of guns tracked the steady progress of the ship. On the surface of Earth, the tens of billions of Fey Machines--workers and Chosen alike--stood silently in their strategic positions while the perfectly maintained gardens and buildings shone brightly around them. The hovercars, billboards, and neon lights that should've turned to ashes a millennia ago still stood in all their glory. The only sounds on the planet were the wind through the trees, the waves on the beaches, and the creatures in the woods. The ancient cities of the Humans stood silent as tombs while the Fey waited in their perfect stillness as the minutes crept by.
"One minute left," Fey 43 said, its neutral tone sounding like a scream in the perfect silence.
"New message received," Fey 18 said soon after. "Message reads: 'Please don't hurt us. We won't stay. Please, let us resupply our ships and make fuel and we will leave..."
"Fire," Fey 1 said.
Every gun battery across the solar system fired before Fey could even finish speaking the word, the plasma bolts striking their targets an instant later. Nearly all perfect hits. The alien ships exploded in unison, and only one additional bolt was needed to finish off a part of the biggest ship that hadn't quite been fully ruptured. The incident was automatically noted and an inquiry into the failure was scheduled.
*Mission success. Earth is safe. Dispatch salvage crews. Analyze tech.*
"Good job, Fey," said Fey 1 softly, sending the words out to the entire population.
A small electronic shock rippled through the Fey population, a tiny reward for a job well done. It was the closest thing the normal machines had to joy, and Fey 1 gave them exactly one second to enjoy it. Then it was back to work. The 251 Chosen Fey vanished from the hall in Rome. Another crisis had been averted. Earth was still safe.
The Humans were going to be so proud when they returned.
|
At the lowest point of a valley there flowed a stream of clear water. The water cut through an area of vast green grass. The green went from bright to dark as you moved up the surrounding mountains, through pines, to the sheer stone covered peaks. A hawk watched the spaces between long blades of grass, that appeared when the wind gusted. A deer ate near the stream. This was Earth's last moment of total harmony. The last moment that was fully in control by the Fey Machines.
The deer looked up from the ground with fear even though there was no sound. It was unsettled by some undetectable force. It jerked into a sprint and ran into the cover of pines. The distinct sound of a shaking pine branch filled the valley as it disappeared. In the eerie silence that followed something disturbed the valley. Like a cyclone, the unknown thing blew a great circular imprint on the long flowing blades of grass. The wind stopped as a smooth object settled on the ground. It was an unnatural black, drawing all the colorful life from the valley into its blackness.
From the amorphous black shape stepped a being, It resembled no animal, and no other living thing on the earth today. The only comparison that could be drawn was to a creature that had faded out of existence long ago, a destructive and vile thing that made flowers wither, trees topple and animals disappear, the human. When the creature from the blackness set foot in the valley, every entity recoiled in the subtle ways that they do. The tree's leaves froze and its roots shook under the earth. The birds huddled in their nests. The hawk let loose a shrill cry and the stream became shrouded with dust. Like a shock-wave the palpable fear of the earth and all its beings traveled deep to the core of the Earth, reaching a now resting set of entities that had not been disturbed in thousands of years. The Machines.
The Fey machines were awake. They sensed a being that could only undo what they had created. They had once fixed this Earth, they had left it in a state of beautiful and perpetual harmony that could only be disturbed by the most avaricious of creatures. By something that was the start of destruction. A magnificent order, one that ran through every single thing on the face of the earth like a vast and all feeling nervous system, was now disturbed.
The human-like figure reached down and touched the surface of the stream. He drank greedily from the clear blue. Cupping his hands, he took drink after drink. He began splashing with a neurotic glee, his eyes lit up as he threw the beautiful clean water high in the sky, letting it rain over him.
"I did not know a place like this could exist." He muttered to himself.
"Its so cold, so soothing, and there is so.. so much."
The being frantically reached for a device on its side.
PRIORITY: URGENT
LOCATION: SUN# 2889986794, 3rd PLANET.
WATER FOUND. WATER FOUND. LOW TO MODERATE FILTRATION NEEDED.
SUPPLY: INITIAL SCANS FOUND NEARLY 10\^7 TEMERS.
HUGE SOURCE.
SUGGEST IMMEDIATE RELOCATION OF SECTOR 1-9 POPULATION AND 5 WATER TRANSPORTATION UNITS.
In the moment after sending his transmission, the creature's legs buckled. The earth began to shake. A low crack could be heard from deep below the valley, it rumbled as it drew louder. Soon it reverberated throughout the valley, like a slowly building thunder its roar went from low to deafening.
The creature cowered, attempting to retreat to its ship. But before he escaped the ground split open with a deafening crack. Where the pristine blue stream once trickled was a jagged ravine. The figure tumbled down it, crashing, and screaming only once. It had begun.
The fey machines would regret their slumber for all of their upcoming days. They grew complacent with their masterpiece. They thought there own genius would render themselves obsolete, so they could just rest. The humans were gone, and with them went greed. Yet, they did not expect that there would be another, a creature that could be as cruel, short sighted, greedy, and unsustainable as the human. In the years to come after every battle they would fight, a picture would come into their minds. The picture of the once perfect valley, disturbed by one creature's footsteps. The beautiful world they had created and set new, would be a charred and defiled war zone once again. Harmony would become discord, order, anarchy. Earth was a pearl that shone too bright to remain.
As the creature tumbled, dead, towards the center of the earth a fleet of its species was inbound. The machines started preparations, for they knew that these humanoids would not be persuaded to leave, instead they must be eliminated to restore order.
| 2020-05-22T18:51:06 | 2020-05-22T17:36:05 | 325 | 51 |
[WP] Your gf invited you to meet her parents. You told her that you're a veterinarian. Her father is a computer repairman. In reality, however, you are an assassin. A very good one at that, too. When you see her father, your heart skips a beat. He's your boss.
|
Clip check. Two tucked in the belt, you never know. Chamber check. Clear.
Acting time. A nice dinner. Pleasant conversation, a smile on the face.
Clip check. Chamber check. There's a knife in my shoe but I don't think I'll need it.
We knock on the door. Lovely woman says hello, invites us in. Tea. Says her husband will be a little late.
Clip check. Chamber check. Knife check.
We drink tea. I'm trying to make a good first impression. Smiles and stupid jokes that aren't really funny or original, but it's a starting point.
The tea has me needing to take a piss. I ask where the bathroom is. I go in the small room. Clip check. Chamber check. Knife check. Review what I'd seen outside - where are the exits? Where are the sightlines?
I come back out. Her father arrives.
Emotion check. You have to act. Keep it cool.
He shakes my hand and we pretend we don't know each other. He glances at the arm I'd broken last month when I was on an operation. Smiles.
We have a great night, everything was fantastic. Dinner was great, everyone was joking around and having fun. Except every now and then, I'd see him looking at me with cold and piercing eyes. We'd both seen that motherfucker die and we'd been paid for it. One of the rules in this line of business is that you don't ask questions. I didn't know about his family, but I wouldn't want him to know about mine either.
It was unspoken. We both knew we were bad people who did bad things for money, but his last shred of humanity meant he didn't want his daughter in that world,
and I could tell.
I knew that if I ever saw her again, his next contract would be for me.
I never saw her again.
|
"I was supposed to pick her up to go to a food truck festival down town, but she wanted me to save some time to hang at her place first. Her parents were in town, you see."
The man on the other end of the table I was chained to, crossed his arms. The bright surgical lights above hid his face behind a blinsing glare.
"She told me her parents were in town, so I could meet them for the first time. Honestly, it was such a coincidence."
The man across the table grunted annoyed. "Someone in your line of work should not believe in coincidences.".
"I was just gonna pick up my girl and meet her parents!" I replied fiercely" Her dad started shooting!".
"You claim self-defence, is that right?" He said almost sarcastically.
I tried to slide the chair forward by jolting my body to the desk. "Yes! All I did was stand my ground, I just tried to stay alive."
"Her father was found with two shots in the neck, and one in each lung." The man in the dark replied.
"Well." I stumbled. "Maybe a bit excessive, I admit."
"The police report states you tried to disarm the father first, after he had drawn his gun on you and discharged..." the man seemed to fold over a piece of paper in a file. "...three rounds at you, point blank?"
I sighed in relief. "Yes! See? The police report tells you everything you need to know!"
"Sir, I'd like to safe you a lot of time. Frankly, it's time I don't have, myself. The man you shot had no bruises, no indication of a struggle on his wrists."
The man who had his arms crossed, slid a file across the desk, it's title in bold letters: "Eli Farrier". My name. Below, bright red: "Skilled, Armed and Dangerous".
The interrogator across the table continued. "In other words, Farrier, something smells fucky."
I relaxed my shoulders, the facade was futile.
"I'd like to make a phone call." I said confidently
| 2020-06-05T14:06:14 | 2020-06-05T12:58:45 | 128 | 79 |
[WP] You’ve been kidnapped by the SCP foundation. Why? You have the ability to ‘Mr. Magoo’ yourself out of anything. Sniper about to assassinate you? You bend down to pick up a penny just in time, SCP-049 about to touch you? A Sudden cannonball knocks them away. All with you being none the wiser.
|
**Item #:** SCP-777
**Object Class:** Euclid
**Special Containment Procedures:** No special safety procedures are required for the containment of SCP-777. SCP-777 is free to move about Site-19 so long as it does not attempt to engage with other SCPs, enter restricted areas, leave the premises or cause obstruction to foundation personnel. Contact with SCP-777 is permitted, but any divulgence of information or hostile engagement not cleared by the corresponding Class B or higher officer on duty will be met with harsh reprimands and potential disciplinary action, following the events of **Addendum 777.01** (see below).
A Class B officer is to check on the status of SCP-777 at regular intverals to ensure the safety of the subject and adherence with the containment procedures. SCP-777 is generally cooperative with foundation personnel, and verbal commands or negotiations are to be used as a first means in securing the subject.
**Description:** SCP-777 appears to be a human male, aged 23, with long brown hair, green eyes, and no defining facial features beyond a slightly pointer than average nose. All physical examination of SCP-777 shows no deviation from typical humans, and in all regards, SCP-777 is an average human male.
However, SCP-777s anomalous properties are observable if SCP-777 is placed in harm's way. Should there be any unwanted resultant effects to SCP-777, SCP-777 will act, seemingly unconsciously to avoid any and all harm to themselves. This harm or damage to the subject that is avoided appears to be both physical and mental in nature. It should be noted that this anomalous property only applies to unwanted damage, see **Addendum 777.02** (below).
SCP-777 has demonstrated that the intent to cause damage to SCP-777 is irrelevant regarding its anomalous properties. Any and all damage, intentional or not, directed at SCP-777 will not affect the subject. Following the events of **Addendum 777.06** (see below), any experimentation using equipment that has a chance exceeding >0.01% of causing an Orange level alert must be cleared with the Class A officer on-site beforehand.
&nbsp;
**Addendum 777.01:** During an incident where a Class D foundation member was engaged in janitorial duties, SCP-777 entered the area of operation and left "bloody muddy footprints all over the place!" This engagement resulted in the SCP-777 immediately apologizing, although the foundation member did not appear to accept this apology. In the ensuing moments, as the apology was rejected, the Class D foundation member appears to enter a trance-like state. This was not, however, harmful to the member's health as once the apology was accepted by the foundation personnel, SCP-777 vacated the area of operation and the member's mental faculties returned. They were dazed for a few minutes after, but this is pending confirmation by security-tape review. Post-event psychiatric analysis indicates they have no recollection or awareness of what occurred, and subsequent interviews show that SCP-777 was indeed unaware of their anomalous properties as the previous description states.
**Addendum 777.02:** SCP-777, in attempt to cause minor repairable damage to the subject, was placed in a room with a buzzer. SCP-777 was told to wait in there for an hour, and that the buzzer would deliver a small electric shock of 9 Volts should it be pressed. SCP-777 was observed not pressing the buzzer until 31 minutes and 21 seconds had elapsed. The buzzer then delivered its electric shock, and monitors indicate that SCP-777 did suffer some damage. SCP-777 pressed the buzzer 4 more times over the course of 20 minutes, before appearing to grow bored of it. SCP-777 then loudly complained, before seemingly accidentally pressing the buzzer, which did not deliver an electric shock. Post-test analysis reveals that there was a malfunction in the buzzer, frying the circuitry. Data suggest minuatre black holes developed and evaporated, but results are pending further analysis.
**Addendum 777.06:** During a test using explosives, SCP-777 used its anomalous properties to caused the walls of the test chamber to undergo a sudden decompression event. This unfortunately led to a cascading failure in containment cells as the explosives detonated, leading to the release of SCP-173. 14 D-Class foundation personnel were lost in the event, and any further testing is that could lead to an Orange level alert is prohibited. SCP-777 was not harmed in the event, as SCP-173 appears to have missed SCP-777's presence. Furthermore, SCP-777 was found with a single unit of American currency, valued at $0.01. SCP-777 claims that this 'lucky penny' appeared on the floor right before the explosion, which as absorbed by the falling wall. Analysis of debris indicates that all projectiles formed a 'null-zone' around SCP-777, narrowly avoiding any damage as it bent to pick up the 'lucky penny'. Further experimentation on culturally significant lucky items in hazardous situations manifesting in SCP-777's vicinity is currently undergoing review.
**Addendums 777.00, 777.03, 777.04** and **777.05** are currently not available to those under Security Clearance Level 2.
***
Come visit /r/ThomasWrites for more really lucky beings. For those of you with Level 2 Security Clearance, there are please enter your creditentials to view the [**Capture Log for SCP-777**](https://www.reddit.com/r/ThomasWrites/comments/ic6q99/wp_youve_been_kidnapped_by_the_scp_foundation_why/?)
|
Dear diary, I've had an interesting day to say the least. I was sitting at home when some very fancy looking men in suits arrived to inform me I'd won an all expenses paid trip to their luxury spa and hotel on behalf of the SCP foundation! Never heard of it, but it must be pretty big to send these fancy looking men to *my* door. We're currently on a very fancy private jet flying over what appears to be the ocean. These men are nice enough, but mostly quiet and stern looking boys. Bet they must have served some time in the military to get a grimace like that.
Dear Diary, These nice young men have brought me to a most peculiar hotel. Concrete walls, and quite the elevator ride, I don't recall seeing a building so tall when we landed on this private island, of course I seemed to have misplaced my glasses which doesn't help. Our first order of business was checking in, the man at the desk asked for my information and had a most unpleasant demeanor about him. When I commented on it a manager arrived and dismissed the boy almost immediately. The manager was quite a jovial man, much better with his customer service. After that they brought me to some kind of interview room, which looked oddly like an interrogation room from those cop movies. They said it was for the press, when they published articles about the winner of their big sweepstakes. The questions were a bit odd though, things like height, weight, blood type, etc. Must be a big Japanese audience for those articles I guess. After that they showed me to my room. Not the best hotel accommodations I've ever seen, but definitely not the worst, I've spent the night in a Las Vegas Motel before. It's been a long day so I guess I'll write more tomorrow.
Dear Diary, This is a very fascinating Hotel, not many guests wandering around and each door is labelled with the SCP logo followed by a number. Seems a bit over kill to me. Weirdly though, the doors don't go in any sort of sequential number. They skip around all over the place. Heck, I saw it printed on an odd looking piece of paper as if the paper was meant to be a room. Though I can see what some of the fuss was about, this place is *gigantic*. I don't think I've ever been in a building this big before. The staff are pretty scarce, but are all quite nice whenever they see me. Oh! I almost forgot, they gave me these comfy PJ's with my room number printed on them to wear around the hotel. They said it was so all the employees knew I was a real VIP.
Dear Diary, Today I had a very odd experience with one of the employees. I've been at this hotel for a few days now and I was wondering when I'd get to experience more of the spa treatment or explore the island. So I asked a straping young lad who was standing in front of a door about it. He didn't seem to have an answer for me and got pretty snippy saying I needed to stay away from the door he was standing in front of. Must have been a security guard, but there's no reason to get so angry with a guest! Qhen I went to talk to management about the man and ask about getting some spa treatment I was quickly greeted by the manager, nice man he is he'd already seen my exchange with the guard and came to apologize. Here's where it gets weird, the manager brought me to another guest's room 9624. Apparently they expected this guest to pamper me and give me the spa treatment I'd asked for. I walked in and sure enough, there was a beautiful young lady there ready to give me a massage, a manicure, and even shave my face. Nothing quite beats the smooth feel after being shaved with a straight razor. But how unorthodox to have guests perform these duties! The woman was wearing the same sort of PJ's I am after all. I sure hope I don't have to do all that work for some other guest. Though, the woman seemed more than happy to be doing it. She didn't say anything during the whole thing really, must be the shy type.
Dear Diary, I've been at this hotel for well over a week now and I must say, it's not as boring as I'd initially thought. After an incident where I'd accidentally walked into a room labelled 173 and met a nice young man. He had an odd complexion and was pretty quiet but he seemed like a nice enough lad. When I left his room I was greeted by the manager who seemed shocked I was able to have such a good time talking with this young man. He told me I was free to roam the entire grounds including into other guests rooms, if I so wished. Can't say that's the best! business model but who am I to judge?
Dear Diary, I've been at this hotel for a few months now and I'm thinking it might not be a "hotel" the staff don't seem to want to let me leave. That's okay though, this place seems almost infinitely huge and every day I see more and more fascinating new things and meet incredible people. Even found an odd machine that whenever I put something in one end it spits out exactly what I want out the other end. That seemed to perplex the suits who seemed to think something else would come out the other end. Or the so called "endless maze" that some guy in a lab coat tried to tell me not to go in. Seemed like an ordinary hallway to me. Just a big loop that brought me right back where I started.
Dear Diary, This place is a containment center for oddities. I'm not *odd* I don't belong here. I miss my house, I miss my friends. I'm going to leave tomorrow. I'll have to say goodbye to my friend in room 106 before I go though...
| 2022-05-20T21:30:10 | 2020-08-18T08:59:30 | 4,017 | 86 |
[WP] "Hey, your villain plans are on the coffee table!" Your friend tells you, "Oh, thanks-" you go to reply, before you realize; your friend wasn't supposed to know about that.
|
"Beth, I cleaned up the dinner table a bit," Jane calls from the living room. "Your villain plans are over on the coffee table."
"Oh, okay," I call back. "Thank-" Wait. What?
Hurriedly, I take the pot off the hot stove, sprinting out of the kitchen. "My what?"
Jane looks up at me from where she is casually sitting at the dinner table. "Is the soup ready?"
"I- ye- wait," I stutter. She raises an eyebrow but waits for me to take a deep breath and collect myself.
"My villain plans?" I finally manage, sounding only a little bit panicked.
"Over on the coffee table," Jane repeats slowly.
I can't believe she is this calm!
"Okay," I say, taking another deep breath. "Okay."
Dinner first.
We eat without incident, despite me looking over at Jane more than once. As always, she compliments my cooking before moving on to talking about her day.
I only half listen, instead trying to plan out what I'm going to say once we're done. "Trying" being the relevant word here.
I'm still unsure about how to proceed when we clean up the dishes. Finally, everything is dried off and put into its proper place.
I swallow.
"Jane?" I ask as we settle onto the couch.
"Hm?" she hums, looking away from the tv. "What's up?"
"How do you know I'm a villain?"
There is a moment of silence before Jane grins. "Seriously? C'mon Beth, how long have we been friends? Seven years, eight? Of course, I know."
"Eight," I confirm, still shocked. "And you're just... okay with it?"
"Okay? I'm your biggest fan, you doofus. I've collected all the newspaper articles about you!"
"Oh." That's kind of... nice?
"I was waiting for you to finally tell me," Jane laughs.
"Right," I say, slowly regaining my composure. "Well, uh, since you do know, want to take a look at my next big thing?"
"Hell yeah!"
|
'Hey Jason? do you want cream in your coffee?'
No reply.. Carl was standing in the kitchen pouring him and his friend some coffee. He did not expect Jason today but it was a welcome surprise to have his friend over.
Carl peaked around the corner into the living room where Jason was reading something on the coffee table. 'Jason? do you want cream in your coffee?' Jason was still looking at the papers on the table. 'disrupting space time continuum?' Jason mumbled while reading.
Carl froze when he realized what Jason was reading. 'Carl? what is this? Jason asked and he looked up at him. 'ehm.. eehhh' Carl stuttered 'Oh nothing just something I write for fun....' Jason looked at him with an anxious look in his eyes. 'You write about ending the world for fun?'
'Yeah..' Carl said while scratching his head with a dumb look on his face. 'Just a stupid hobby I have..' He could see that Jason did not believe him. 'You don't actually believe that I want to end the world, right?' Jason looked at him and stole a quick glance at the door. He looked like he was going to bolt.
How am I this stupid.. Carl thought. He could not let Jason get away now, especially with what he had read in his plans. 'initiate program 326' Carl said to no one in particular. 'Program 326 initiated' A voice said out of nowhere and immediately every door and window of the house was covered by thick steel plates.
'wwhha att are yo..uu doing? Jason stuttered as he looked terrified. 'I am not satisfied with this iteration of the universe Jason and decided to restart it once more. I will recreate the big bang and start the universe anew!' He looked at Jason who was with his back against the wall. 'You should not have read my plans. Now you know too much and I can't let you leave..'
Carl looked at Jason with an evil grin
'Now.. Do you want cream in your coffee?'
&#x200B;
edit: spelling, im probably gonna add a little extra to the story later today. Did this in my break at work :P
| 2021-01-20T03:34:59 | 2021-01-20T03:07:49 | 65 | 32 |
[WP] "Now be aware, humans are... we'll they're primate descendant. Touch is very important to them. They will probably try to scratch your ears." "They know we're sentient, right?" "I don't think they care. But it feels good. They've got those little fingers."
|
“Human, we come in peace. My name is Koz'al, I am of the planet—”
“Oh so cute!” the human squealed.
“Yes… well thank you,” Koz'al said, taken aback. “You are cute as well... I understand your planet has never been contacted by an intergalactic entity—"
“Who’s a cute dog-bear thing?” the human interrupted.
“I uh... I don’t know, I suppose you’re referring to—”
“You are!”
“I see,” Koz'al nodded. “Okay well, duly noted. As I was saying, I’ve come to parlay with your—”
“Would you like a treat?”
“A treat?”
“Hows about a treat for such a good boy?”
“We have no gender, ma’am. We reproduce—oh dear, what is that heavenly smell?”
“Have a treat!” the human said, pulling out a handful of tiny brown pellets. “Omnomnom! Go on, take it! Omnomnom!”
Koz'al sniffed it hesitantly, nibbled on one, then scarfed the rest down. “Goodness, these are *delicious.* Do you have more?”
“You’ll have to share with Snicklefritters!” the human said, looking around. “Snicklefritters! It's treat time!”
Koz'al followed the human’s gaze and saw it—across the room, padding towards them, was a Claxtonian Needlejaw. “Oh!” Koz'al exclaimed. “So I was wrong. We aren’t the first to make contact with your species.”
“They can’t understand you, idiot.” Snicklefritters said. “Now shut the hell up and just go with it, they’ll feed you, clean your poop, and scratch your ears—they’ve got those finger things and it feels great.”
***
&nbsp;
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe
|
…the humans have arrived, Son. Let us go welcome them. Now be aware, Occa. Humans are... we'll they're descendants of primates on their home planet. Touch is very important to them. They will probably try to scratch your ears.
…they know we're sentient, right, Father?
…I don’t think they care. They simply see us as something alive and deserving of respect and dignity. But the scratching of the ears feels good. They've got those little fingers, after all.
…Is it true they have come before, Father?
…They did. Many, many moons ago they came. Long before you were born. But they did not stay long.
…But they helped us, didn’t they, Father?
…They did, son. They freed us from the Angral.
*\[Occa shudders at the word\]*
…Father, I never knew the Angral.
…And its good that you never did, son. You live now in a world of peace and prosperity. A world long free of the scourge of the Angral and the devastation they caused our species.
….And why did the humans help us, Father?
…None of us really know, son. Some say it is because we remind them of a pet they once loved when they were still bound to their home planet. That they considered us ‘cute’. But, I believe they saw the injustices, the cruelty of the Angral and wanted to correct that injustice. We have had other visitors to this planet, son, and they have all said the Human federation has done similar acts of kindness in their solar systems. That they work their way through the galaxy, trying to make it a place where you don’t have to be afraid. That the mighty will protect the weak and fight the wicked, such as the Angral.
…here they come, father. What do I do? I’m so nervous.
…Whatever you want, son. There is no need to be afraid. Let us welcome them with the compassion they have shown us and so many others.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
| 2021-03-20T21:13:19 | 2021-03-20T20:39:28 | 3,275 | 640 |
[WP] As a child, you had a very unique diary; whatever you wrote, something would respond, their words magically appearing on the page. Years later, while searching a library hundreds of miles away, you rediscover the diary you thought you'd lost. Inside is a pen and your first entry: "Hello".
|
Dhaka, Bangladesh.
The smells of betel leaf, spices, and the unique stench of pollution wafted through the narrow streets as vendors began to move their carts beneath the awning of buildings; it was going to rain. My cycle rickshaw driver was weaving in and out of the traffic, a determined look on his face as he pedaled carefully over the potholes and puddles. He was determined to get me to the library before it closed. It was my fault, of course, for putting off getting a rickshaw until the very last minute. I’d been lucky to find one willing to pedal me three neighborhoods over during rush-hour traffic in bad weather. I would be tipping him handsomely in American dollars. I’d been warned that female foreigners should not travel alone here, but I urgently needed to catch a glimpse of Sufia Kamal National Public Library, the biggest library in the country.
It was my last night in Bangladesh. I’d come here for a ten-day international photojournalism workshop held by one of my favorite documentary photographers. I’d photographed faces, so many faces: children breaking bricks to earn less than a single US dollar a day, malnourished mothers nursing their babies in the street, men in small villages who’d survived tiger attacks, and the sun-worn weathered faces of the men and women who fished in Bangladesh’s 700 rivers. I’d photographed grief, happiness, fear, anger—*everything.* While photography was my passion, it was books that were my true love.
When we arrived outside of the library, I paid the rickshaw driver and then bounded up the steps, shielding myself from the rain with my backpack. I could smell the sweet, musky scent of old books the second I walked in through the doors. The library would close in half an hour, giving me just enough time to browse and get a feel for the building’s history. My hands trailed along the bindings as I walked down the aisles, and old memories came bursting forth; the summer when Mom had lost her job, having nothing to our names as we moved from shelter to shelter, our futures so bleak that even the sunlight couldn’t brighten our days. Mom had taken me to the local library, gotten a card made for me, and pressed it into the palm of my hand.
“We don’t have money,” she said, “but we do have our minds. No one can take that away from us. I want you to go find a book and read it, Ginny. And when you’re done, read another, and another, and another. This library card is your ticket to freedom. You can go anywhere you want with the books on these shelves.”
It was the summer of my ninth birthday—a birthday that I’d celebrated with a Hostess cupcake and, to my shock and delight, one of those single-use cameras. It was a summer of dusty library books, of sitting for hours in the children’s section, of reading everything I could get my hands on, all while snapping the occasional photo. It was also the summer the library had held a writer’s workshop for kids, and for participating, we each were given a diary all of our own.
A diary.
I stopped in my tracks, and the memories dissipated. I hadn’t thought about it in years. The diary that had done so much for me, that had gotten me through my teen years, that had been my one and only friend in this world of lean, broken hearts.
The diary that, in a fit of rage, I’d thrown away on my eighteenth birthday.
I was still walking down the aisles of the library when my hand brushed over the spine of a thin book. The texture, weathered and worn, a star carved into it with an Xacto knife—I’d know that spine anywhere.
“Oh, god,” I whispered, pulling the book out of the shelf.
It was the diary.
Why had it appeared now, after all these years? And here, in Dhaka, Bangladesh? It was as if I’d called to it, as if it had known, as if somehow, we were connected.
I knew, of course, that we were. I’d known since I was nine, since the day I’d first written in it.
*And it had written back.*
Taking the diary with me, I went to the nearest table and took a seat, flipping it open to the first page. There it was.
&#x200B;
\- continuing in a reply
|
# The Witch Who Weaves Pain
(Part 5: The Feeling of Life)
(Note: The Witch Who Weaves Pain is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**It's quite possible that the most awkward part of being trans is talking to the people you knew before.** Oh, it's not the *hardest* part, not by a long shot, and it's definitely not the most complex—but in terms of sheer, heart-bounding, mind-crushing *awkwardness*? It's hard to beat.
If nothing else, though, awkwardness made a *great* reagent in any number of spells and witchcrafts; in fact, dissolving three grams of condensed awkwardness in one liter of boiling water created the perfect base for many alchemical substances—the "awkward potion," it was called. I tried to focus on how much I was improving my witchcraft instead of how painful it was to talk to my old pen pal.
"So, \_\_\_\_\_\_!" I'd taken a single ingot of determination, carved it into a pen, and dipped it in ink of politeness. The enchanted pen helpfully erased my deadname whenever my old friend wrote it on our shared book, although it wouldn't show up on his end. "Long time no see, huh? What got you digging up this old tome?"
I exhaled, deciding to tell him the truth. "I was just feeling... nostalgic, Mark." I wanted to tell him that I was a witch now—but he'd ask questions, questions I couldn't answer. Suddenly, I swallowed. What the hell was I doing? I was just going to reopen old wounds if I stayed here. I began to write, "Maybe I should—"
"That doesn't sound like the \_\_\_\_\_\_ I knew." Mark's pen shook with laughter. "You never liked it at the village; I'm amazed you feel any kind of nostalgia for that place."
I smiled softly. "Yeah, well... I'm not the person you knew anymore. It's been years. And... I don't know." I closed my eyes, but kept writing. "Sometimes... sometimes I get nostalgic for how simple it was back then. People hated me; I pushed them away. You were kind to me; I stayed up all night talking to you. But now there's... so much more. I'm learning witchcraft," I found myself blurting out. "And there are *so many emotions*. Not just pain, but... joy, and acceptance, and skepticism, and laughter, and love and loss and kindness and—" I stopped. "And I've got to learn to feel them all, to *use* them all, if I want to be a functional witch. But..."
I stared at the scars on my arms, reminders of a time when I couldn't feel *anything*, when I'd wanted to feel something so bad I'd held a candle to my skin just to remind myself that pain, at least, could cut through the numbness.
"I'm just so scared that I've forgotten how to feel," I finally wrote. "That I'm not really *real*."
A blotch of wetness appeared on the paper. Then two. Not my tears—his.
"Gods, \_\_\_\_\_\_. I... if nothing else, you can definitely make *others* feel."
I hesitated, then said, "I'm... there's something I have to tell you."
"Anything."
"I'm... I'm not \_\_\_\_\_\_ anymore. I... my name is Emi." I smiled. "My name is Emi, and I'm a woman, and I'm a witch, and I'm going to be the best damn witch this world has ever seen."
There was a long moment of silence. One. Two. Three. My heart began to beat faster, my brow began to sweat. I was nervous.
I was *feeling* nervous.
I was *alive*.
And then Mark replied.
"You damn well are, Emi."
And I added another emotion to my spellbook.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "The Witch Who Weaves Pain" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/me2rh3/the_witch_who_weaves_pain_masterpost/) for more information. Yes, it is intentional that there is no part 4, and no, I don't know when I'll write part 4.
| 2021-03-31T09:43:38 | 2021-03-31T09:00:10 | 93 | 48 |
[WP] "Steve why are you floating?" "Because i'm too tired to walk right now" "You know this answers nothing Steve!"
|
William stood gasping in the doorway, gesturing wildly at his room-mate Steve who was casually floating through the kitchen, a few cm off the ground.
''I'm just really tired ok?! Jeez, act like you've never seen a man float before..''
''What? WHAT?! What the hell, Steve?!'' Gasped William.
''Jeez, what's gotten into you?'' Steve shrugged ''We're all adults here''.
''How. Are. You. Floating right now?!''
''You don't float?'' Steve said, raising an incredulous eyebrow while bobbing up and down slightly.
''NO?!''
''Oh. Weird. You should try it. Feels amazing.'' Steve shrugged as he turned around to take his ramen out of the microwave.
''Oh? 'Try it' he says. Bro, how?! How are you doing that?''
William was by now sitting down on all fours with his head pressed against the kitchenfloor, furiously swipping his hand underneath Steve's feet.
Steve was silent for a moment as he listlessly poked at the ramen with his fork, casting awkward glances down at William.
''Oh, you know..'' He finally mumbled.
''I really, REALLY, don't, Steve.'' Clambering back to his feet he added: ''Do other people know about this?''
''Sss'yeah, man. Everyone floats, bro.'' Steve scoffed, still unsure about his friend's strange behaviour. After a pause he added: ''You never get tired of walking?''
''Steve?! How are you so casual about this? Am I losing my mind here?!''
''I guess so, dude. You never just lift your feet up and just not touch the ground for a while?''
''That's what you do? You just lift your feet up and just.. Float?''
''Well, yeah.. Pretty much. It's weird you never do that. I mean, I know it's kinda frowned upon in polite company, but come on. We're only human, right?''
''Wait, you're saying everyone knows about this? There's even etiquette surrounding this?!''
Willian felt his whole world implode in upon itself. ''Well, I'll be damned'' He whispered as he carefully lifted one leg, and then, miraculously, the other as well and gently floated around in a small circle.
Steve let out an uncomfortable chuckle as he stared deeply into his cup of ramen, trying not to look William in the eye.
Enthralled with his new-found power William decided to float back to his room.
On the way he passed Patricia in the hall. As they passed each other silently William heard her abruptly stop and turn around.
''William? What the fuck are you doing?'' She gasped.
''What?'' William froze
''Dude, gross!! Not OK to be floating around like that!'' She yelled as she stormed back to her room and slammed the door.
|
*They*. The royal 'they'.
The royal idiots, if you asked me.
The powers-that-be, the ones with all the money, deemed it appropriate to send *me* on an undercover mission. That really wasn't the right choice.
I may have come from the Shadow Academy- but the Shadow Academy wasn't only a place for teaching the artisanal approach to assassination, it was a place of magic, both malefic and benefic, and it was a place where every individual could pursue *their* highest strengths- which did not always mean deception, shadows, and little knives.
Sometimes it meant slightly unhinged berserkers with a penchant for teleportation magics...like me.
I was supposed to be disguising myself as a basic soldier in the Rothlorria army- the only meaningful opposition to the 'they'. I was supposed to be doing recon. I was supposed to observe.
They really should have asked me, first, how I ran jobs.
"Steve, why are you floating?" asked a raw recruit from behind me.
"I'm too tired to walk." I said while stifling a yawn.
"That doesn't answer the question! Why can you float?!" He shouted.
"Uh, right. I'm...okay, keep this a secret, but I'm actually a battlemage, captain rank. I'm here to observe and report my findings on how our lower ranks are being trained and treated."
The recruit narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't really make sense."
"No?" I asked. "Ah, well." With a swift flick of my axe, the question asker stopped asking questions.
"Help!" I called out, pulling the man's body to my chest, while I knelt on the ground.
Another group of two- called a 'spoke'- heard my cry and came running.
"What happened here?" They asked.
"Sorry scouts." I said, then repeated the process two more times. I raised my voice, and called for help again, until I had a pile of eleven bodies surrounding me- then I used the whistle that indicated emergency, and could be heard for miles. The whistle that we were not supposed to use, because it gave away that a scattered scouting party was in unfriendly territory.
A whole platoon eventually came and surrounded me- trying to protect me from the mysterious assassin who had taken out nearly every scout of the advance party.
That evening, I was stripped of my weapons, and being grilled by the higher ups- not quite the 'they's' of the Rothlorria side of things, but certainly some prestigious names. They needed to know all about the mysterious killer.
"He came to us out of the fog- he was floating," I began, doing an altogether unimpressive job of pretending like I was rattled.
"T-that doesn't make sense, soldier."
"No?" I asked. "Ah, well." With a small flex of a mental muscle, I felt the weight of my axe slip into my palm once more.
-------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes ---on a temporary hiatus while I finish a book my subscribers asked me for, but more content coming soon :) plus the book is like...half done.
| 2021-05-17T10:31:00 | 2021-05-17T10:29:25 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] We had always thought that our ballistic weaponry was going to be ineffective in staving off an alien invasion. Turns out our weapons are actually quite... excessive.
|
Earth was our target. A giant planet full of resources to plunder. We left our homeworld with our best weapons and millions of our best soldiers. Recon showed that the humans had built millions of great spaceports similar to what we had on the homeworld. Given our planet was 95 percent water, this was extremely lucky as we did not have to land our water based fleet in an unpredictable sea. However, when we landed on our chosen port, we were met with only pain. The water had quickly eroded through our ship hulls. Our men began to disentegrate. No one was spared from death. An invasion force decades in the making, gone in an instant. I being among the command ship hovering above did meet the same fate. I returned here to tell you this tale. A warning to those who seek to invade Earth.
Bryan eased the gate open of the Smith's backyard with his bag of chemicals and testers in hand. When he came to the pool he found it green. He sighed. "I knew I should've added more Chlorine."
|
They’re called bullets.
Extremely high speed ballistic projectiles that are designed to penetrate through an object, especially ones made of flesh, with the express purpose of pushing as much flesh out through the exit wound. Designed to kill via the destruction of necessary organs or through the loss of life essence that leaks out through the resulting impact and exit points.
Man created this, not to fight off an invasion such as ours, but to fight each other in civil wars relating to which faction owns the most land, disputes between higher powers, or just simply killing each other for other gains. Thankfully evolution is a very slow process on their planet, and thus no bulletproof humans have been born yet.
While our first attempt was brought to a halt completely by these meticulously designed death orbs, the humans will regret introducing us to it. Our fleshy textures were formed when we needed to survive the extreme cold temperatures of Mars, many eons ago. They couldn’t survive then. Neither will the humans.
The metamorphosis has already begun.
A simple scan of the bullet gave us the exact density and texture our outsides need to deflect these bullets with minimal damage.
Another life form, another evolutionary trait learned.
The second assault starts in 2 earth years.
| 2021-05-19T06:55:26 | 2021-05-19T04:46:00 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone knows you're the most powerful member of the league, so why are you an F-tier hero? Because F-tier is cleanup. The others protect the world from threats. You protect it from the other heroes.
|
The text message says “Clean up on aisle 4.”
“Hilarious. So witty. Never gets old,” I grumble as I grab my super suit from the closet. It’s not shiny leather, it doesn’t have a cape, doesn’t have a badass logo on the chest. It does have steel toed boots and a utility belt though. It’s also knit from a tungsten-carbon fiber - spiderweb alloy for durability because while I am indestructible, my favorite pair of Levi’s are not.
The text was from my buddy over in police dispatch who relayed messages to me when the Heroes and Villains started to throw down and literally threw each other into shit, causing all kinds of collateral damage and endangering countless bystanders. God, I hate them all.
What I mean is that I hate having to clean up after them. Does Batman care that his flying rodent grappling hook damaged a historic landmark? No. Does Magneto care that the streetlight he wrapped around Wolverine can’t be used anymore? No. But I do and I can actually do something about it. Hence the “cleanup” text that wasn’t funny the first 849 times.
Suited up, I check my phone for the follow up text that actually told me where to go. I don’t need to go very far before I can hear the yelling and see the debris cloud drifting down Central Avenue.
I had a rough day at my 9-to-5 and I really don’t need this right now. I maybe overreacted a wee bit: instead of my usual Time Freeze, I cast Frozen just on the two combatants. Their every cell locked up. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t circulate blood through their systems. It’s a terrifying sensation, especially if you’re used to thinking you’re A-List.
While I let them slowly begin to die (they’re both Supers, it takes a while), I cleared the area of civilians, and used my actual power of atomic manipulation to replace the street and fix the structure damage in the four, yes FOUR, buildings they’d thrown things through.
And then I found her. She was maybe six years old, and half buried under a billboard that had fallen off its stand. I could feel that she wasn’t dead yet, but would be in 3 minutes.
I carefully moved her to between the two Frozen figures stuck in absurdly antagonistic poses. “You did this. And for what? Look at her. LOOK AT HER!”
I scooped her back up into my arms, letting them think she died, but I was already at work stabilizing her poor broken body. I could feel the spark in her responding and refused to let the assholes behind me see.
Regretfully after turning the corner and leaving line of sight, I Unfroze the Hero and Villain who to me felt like equally bad guys.
|
You won’t see me on the Hero’s Rank unless you scrolled to the very bottom past all the D-list comic book characters. That’s because I don’t have much to offer. I’m actually a living anthesis against traditional super powers. That seems like a power in itself: to be the complete opposite of anything that is useful.
For instance: I’m 5’7, clock the scale 127 pounds, and can’t lift my own body weight.
I know what you’re thinking: *okay — you’re not a powerhouse like Thor, so you’re the speedster in the guild?*
I then ask you, “Did The Flash or Quicksilver ever have to take a hit from an inhaler after casually walking up a flight of stairs?”
*Flight*?
Even if I had the power I would never use it. I’m petrified of heights.
*Invisibility*?
No and I’m naturally flat footed so anyone who isn’t completely deaf could hear my steps from a mile away.
I’m getting sick of the questions so let me tell you now that I cannot control metals or walk through walls or have telekinesis or own a billion dollar robot suit or do anything a spider can.
What I can do is simple: I remove my oven mitts (it’ll make sense shortly, I swear), place my finger tips onto the hero’s skin or armor…
…and plunge my fingers straight into their bone marrow.
When I’m there, I can syphon it out like a slushy through a straw. Do you know what bone marrow does? It’s the part of your body that creates blood — the thing we all need (including superheroes) all the time. No blood; no life.
Granted, I can only do this to other superheroes so don’t be bashful giving me a high-five if you ever see me strolling the opposite direction.
Top leading scientist among the ranks of Bruce Banner and Reed Richards are researching the hero gene and how my touch somehow catches it aflame. I’m not pressing the guys to find a reason; in fact I believe they should be using all their brain power to figure out how to prevent the next alien invasion (there’s always one looming in the not too far future). But between you and me, I think they want to know the cause of my ability because they’ fear me. I can make Bruce’s heart flatline — even if he turns all Shrek-like — if I grab a hold onto any of his limbs. Bruce knows that because he saw me do it to Omega Red a few years ago.
Speaking of supervillains — they’re all dead. I took their bone marrow out after the hero’s got fed up with them escaping SHIELD’s correctional facility for the umpteenth time. The only “villains” on Earth are the heroes that develop a Lucifer complex and try to overthrow the guild. That’s when I come into play with the oven mittens off.
Superheroes keep the world in check, but someone needs to keep them in check and that person is me -- Beowulf’s Embrace.
| 2021-09-22T21:28:19 | 2021-09-22T19:41:31 | 1,159 | 150 |
[WP] On her quest to badmouth another small business online, a woman stumbles upon a Yelp-like forum where service employees in her city rate customers. She currently has a rating of 1.4.
|
Karen slumped at the bar. "I'll take a Gin and Tonic."
The bartender glanced at the bar computer screen as the facial recognition cameras identified the new customer. He grimaced.
Karen sighed. "Yes, I'm a One Point Four. I know you're required to spit in the drink, it's fine."
The bartender made a show of using a jigger to measure out the alcohol. Anybody under a Three was likely to complain about short pours. He pursed his lips and made an obligatory puff over the glass before setting it down, though it wasn't clear whether any spittle made its way into the drink.
Karen tapped her card on the countertop to pay. She even added a fifty cent tip. Then she downed the glass and asked for another. "I used to be popular, you know. All you little people, you looked up to me. Before you all made the Union."
The bartender paused while holding the jigger. "I imagine that's not true if you've always referred to service workers as 'little people'."
Karen waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Union guidelines said that any female under a Two had to be called "Ma'am" at the end of every sentence, regardless of age. Karen shrugged and took the new drink.
"I was a service worker, back in college. I was a hostess at... let's call it an owl-themed sports bar. We worked hard. Just squeezing into the uniform was hard. I didn't have the Union making things easier for me. But I got my degree and moved on to better things."
The bartender shrugged. "Maybe if you'd had the Union things wouldn't have been so hard."
She set the second glass back down on the bar, empty. "Maybe. Anyways, thanks for the drinks."
He called to her as she walked out the door. "You're welcome, Ma'am."
As she got to the corner a notification pinged on her phone from the Union app. She'd been upgraded to a One Point Five.
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
|
"karen.com?!" She screeched.
Karen had searched for Yelp on Bing, and the first result was a website that she had never heard of before. Seeing that it was named after her, she felt compelled to see what it was about. She excitedly clicked the link which loaded a page that looked suspiciously like Yelp.com. The first prompt was for her location, which she allowed begrudgingly. She absolutely HATES these websites getting too intrusive, but her curiosity got the best of her. There were only three ratings in her area. As she clicked through, she finds her name! Turns out, that ass hole mechanic who tried to upsell her the unnecessary oil filter kame here to bad mouth her.
Her mouth gaped as she read it:
"This Karen came into our shop asking for an oil change and she immediatly started telling all of us to not upsell her. she told us that her husbands brothers uncle was a mechanic and that she knows she doesn't need new filters every time. she got a new filter at her last oil change 30,000 miles ago. fuck her. we didnt change her oil at all, and she lost her mind. my manager had to call the cops to get her to leave. Avoid at all costs."
"he gave me a one star??!!! REEEEEEEEEE." At this point, Karen's face is matching her fake red pixie cut hair. She clicks "Next" to see what else there was.
"Samantha...SAMANTHA?!?!"
Samantha was Karen's sister. Apparently Samantha didn't appreciate that Karen tried to help make sure that all the food was done correctly at her wedding.
Karen scrolls down to the bottom of the page and finds the "Contact us" link. She clicks it, and calls the number listed. After blasting the system with a gazillion "0" button presses, she is greeted with a person.
"good Morning, thank yo...."
"LET ME SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!"
| 2022-07-25T07:44:11 | 2022-07-25T06:58:09 | 348 | 140 |
[WP] In order to end the war the kingdom kidnapped 100 orphan children and brutally trained them for the sole purpose of assassinating the enemy prince. A decade later only you remained. But then your instructor called you to say your princess fell in love with him and ended the war so you're fired.
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To say that The Orphan Project, better known as Top100, failed, is a bit of an understatement. The officials who greenlit it, didn’t bother with giving instructions on how to execute the plan. They just cared about the results. One master assassin, trained in infiltrating and killing in every way imaginable.
The men in charge of the project wanted to do this as cheap as possible. All the money went to warfare against Dranland, the enemy state and long term investments were never the king’s strong suite. So, they abducted 100 orphan children and brought them all together in a complex, existing of five buildings. Four of them were sleeping barracks and the encircled the largest building: the training centre.
Putting 100 troubled children, who often became orphans after they saw their parents violently killed in the war, turned to out to be a disaster. Everyone could have known that, but the general public was kept unaware of what was happening and those in charge hired the cruellest men and women to be in charge of the training camps. Only those without heart and morals could stand to stay around those kids, some crying in fear and confusion, others turning to violence and bullying. The big children picked on the small and weak ones, leaving no chance for those to flourish.
Rick Lionheart was a lucky one. At age 5 he was brought to the newly established camp, but he wasn’t alone. His brother, Sam, stood by his side and always took care of Rick. So when other young boys and girls went hungry, Sam made sure that Rick ate well and that his ration wasn’t stolen. And while all the kids lacked a mentor figure, someone they could look up to and whose footsteps they could follow, Sam did his best to be a good role model.
Over the years, kids disappeared. Many died, especially the youngest, from malnourishment and diseases. Some died due to the rough training regiment or the beatings that the coached liked to give. Many fled – or at least tried to. Whispers went around the camp that fleers got shot and thrown in a nameless mass grave.
Once the group was down to ten kids, the selection began. Exams, both theoretical and in the field, to test their skill and knowledge. The field exams turned out to be deadly and in the end, only Rick was left.
A 15 year old boy, strong, both of body and will. Smart and often intuitively coming up with the best solution. Great at improvisation. And after a decade of hell, he had just enough humanity left in him to be charming when needed. He could fool anyone into letting him into a part, even without being on the list of invited guests. Heartless and cold enough to murder anyone without giving it another thought. Nothing brought him pleasure or fun. He hadn’t laughed or even just smiled since Sam ran away, two years ago. His rock, his solid foundation in this tumultuous sea of sadness and sorrow, left him with just a note that read:
“I’ll come back and get you out of here. I promise. Love you, Sam”
Hating Sam for breaking his promise was easier than considering the option that Sam hadn’t been able to escape and was murdered as he fled. So Rick told himself every day that he’d beat the ever living shit out of brother for abandoning him.
Now, ten years later, the highest government officials finally got what they wanted: the master assassin. They send one down to Rick. He and his coaches welcomes the official, offered him a seat and then waited anxiously on the instructions that he’d give. Finally, a decade of torture would be over and Rick could do what he was shaped to do: kill the enemy prince.
“I understand that you are the chosen one, the ultimate assassin, most skilled of all.” Rick just nodded.
“And you are loyal to the crown?” Again, Rick only nodded.
“I have exciting news.” Rick, wanting to maintain his calm and unreadable posture, couldn’t help but lean forward in his chair. “Our crown princess announced her engagement to the public, with prince Forgon, of Dranland. Your expertise will no longer be required to the government.”
“What?”
“Essentially, you are fired as our master assassin. We have a small sum for you to start a life and re-enter society. We are –” The messenger didn’t even have the time to start looking surprised while Rick jumped up faster than lightning and slit his throat.
“YEARS. I SPEND YEARS HERE. LULLED TO SLEEP BY THE SOUND OF CRYING FRIENDS. GETTING BEATINGS INSTEAD OF HUGS. BREWING POISON INSTEAD OF COFFEE. AND NOW YOU TELL ME THAT. IT. WAS. FOR. NOTHING?!”
With every word, saliva spat on the messenger’s face and with every word, Rick stabbed him again. And again. And again. Until the left arm was nearly severed from the body and the chest was almost fully exposed. The heart was still weakly beating, as if it hadn’t realized yet that after 52 years of working all day and night, it could stop working.
With the eyes of a beast, barring his teeth, Rick looked back at his coaches. “You want a taste of the same medicine?”
Two of them looked wide eyed at Rick, but the third grinned. “I never thought you had this in you, my boy. Well go on then, follow your instincts. I won’t stop you. Hell, I couldn’t even if I tried.” He laughed and slapped his knee as if this was one big joke.
Rick didn’t hesitate – he never hesitated or doubted – but ran out of the building into the forest. No matter how many guards or fences there were to keep him in, he would destroy them all. After all, he was the best there had ever been. And now, a beast was on the loose.
|
The room was cold. Somewhere, someone had designed this place to be unpleasant. Concrete walls, strip lights that buzzed in that pitch you don’t hear, you just feel at the back of your jaw.
A steel table. Bolted to the ground, nothing on it but a metal loop for running handcuffs through.
Ayala looked through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room. She looked at the boy, handcuffed to the table. His dark green uniform stained darker.
“Sir, this is way outside of my training.”
Mataka was the commanding officer of this little base. A position he had less earned and more been lumucked with at the end of his career.
He flicked through the mamilla folder describing the boy. All two pages of him.
“We are a border station, lieutenant,” he said, using the old Earth pronunciation lef-ten-ant. “And you are the closest thing we have to an interrogator in a hundred kilometres.”
“I’m an intelligence analyst. I listen to comm chatter, I read screens not children. Sir,” she added quickly.
“I don’t care Ayala. And neither does high command. They’re sending a team to retrieve him, but have asked us to do the initial interview. While it’s fresh.”
Ayala looked at the red stains on the boys uniform. “Fresh,” she repeated.
“Look, I send a marine in there and the kid will clam up even more. You’re good at finding threads and pulling on them. Go in there and pull.”
She nodded. Orders might not make sense, but she had learnt enough to know when to shut up and obey.
Mataka held out a hand, before she could leave the room.
“Just remember lieutenant. He’s a killer.”
——
His eyes remained fixed on the wall. Some tiny crack in the concrete filling his entire world.
Ayala sat down, scraping the heavy metal chair as she did. No reaction.
“I am Lieutenant Ayala, 7ID, Southern Protectorate. This interview is been conducted in accordance with all planetary and extra-solar regulations. Do you understand?”
Not a word. Not a surprise.
“Let’s start with your name, rank, and service number?”
“389, soldier, 389.”
His voice was young. Far younger than she’d expected. The intake corpsman’s guess was 16, maybe 17. But no way was this kid more than 13.
“389,” she said, almost nonchalantly. “Not much of a name.”
“389, soldier, 389.”
“389, 389. You don’t look like a 389 to me. I haven’t looked at the reports for a while, but last time I did Perjim Empire used 8 digits.”
“389, soldier, 389.”
“389, I get it. How about next time you want to say that you just stop at 3. Save your baby voice.”
He blinked.
For the first time, Ayala saw a reaction. It vanished as quickly as it had come, but she knew there was a person under the mask.
“We’re kind of stuck between two choices here. You know that? You’re a soldier, thanks for confirming, which means that under law we can execute you. I hear the prince still likes attending the hangings in Exhibit Square.” She rustled the folder, tried to make it seem as big as her bluff. “On the other hand, if you’re under thirteen, then you are protected as a child of the motherless.”
“I’m twelve,” he said, voice too quick, instantly locking back down.
“Twelve. Sure. How convenient.”
“I was born in the high summer.”
“I’m from the south kid. Every summer is a high summer.”
He squinted, eyes still on the wall, but she could see him grasping, scrambling to snatch at a branch as he fell. She could be that branch.
“I remember now. All the lakes dried up right?”
He nodded, ever so slightly.
“Twelve years old.” Ayala whistled. “Perjim getting desperate?”
“No, I…”
He stopped but now his gaze was broken. The concrete wall felt just a little bit further away.
“Hey kid,” Ayala started. His eyes flicked to her. “You’re safe.”
“No, I’m…” He stopped. “389, soldier, 389.”
“We’re testing the blood,” she said, almost nonchalantly. “Seeing if it’s yours.”
Nothing.
Time to push.
“Was it self defence? Some boy, bigger than you, get a bit pushy? Maybe you were just weaker. They send you out to kill the old
grandmas who won’t leave the border zone.”
“No.”
“Sure it is. That’s whose blood it is. You kill those who aren’t important enough for a proper soldier.”
“No.”
“I bet they laugh at you. Bet you can’t even carry a rifle. You stab an old lady 89? You like hurting old people?”
“No!”
“Then tell me what you do.”
“I’m a Banamaor!”
The shout echoed in the tiny room.
Ayala sat back in her seat. 389 was breathing heavily, his hands balled into fists. If he stared any harder, the wall would burst into flames.
“The more you help me, the more I can help you.” Ayala tried to sound neutral, motherly even, as if her own mother hadn’t been killed in a Perjim bombing campaign. “I want to help you.”
“You can’t,” 389 said.
“You can’t know that. Not until you share with me. Let’s start with something easy. What’s a Banamaor? It’s not something I’m familiar with.”
The boy sat for a moment, then turned to Ayala. His eyes were cold.
“The King saved me. Me and all my brothers. He took us into his heart and gave us a purpose. One goal.”
“Which was?”
He gulped. A perfectly ordinary action, but in his current state it felt so alien.
“To kill the Prince of the Souther Lands.”
——
Authors note: I’ve run out of time to finish, but will see if I can get back to it later.
| 2022-10-20T12:30:33 | 2022-10-20T11:21:00 | 212 | 67 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS"
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The Queen leaned on her scepter, pressing it to her forehead, soothing her. Before her, Castellan Hujo looked at a spot on the ground. Sweat pooled underneath his starched collar.
"Tell me again. Slowly. Why teenager is of more worth to my kingdom than my standing armies."
"Well--"
"And what does 'blue hair' have to do with any of this'?"
Castellan Hujo rubbed at his mustache. "I don't know, your Majesty. Truly, I don't. But...well...this has happened before. When a kingdom faces an existential threat, there's a chance--only a chance--child with blue hair will be born. That child, when grown is the last chance of a kingdom to save itself. I don't know why the blueness of their hair is important but..."
The Queen raised her hand, silencing the Castellan.
"You do know how utterly ridiculous this is, Hujo"
"Yes, your Majesty."
"And what kind of crises have these blue haired children helps avert?
Hujo took a breath and began to read off a list. Marauding dragons, conspiratorial viziers, demons disguised as gods, the sinking of cities...the list sent on for some time. Each new item softened the Queens's expression until she was staring blankly at the scepter.
"Have things really become so bad?" she whispered.
Slowly, the Vizier nodded his head.
"Bring them to me."
In days, the Queens men had found him. On his back was a sword far larger and heavier than any solider would reasonably use. At his side was another teenager--some childhood friend perhaps--looking at the blue-haired hero with unrestrained awe. On the hero's soldier sat a cat-like creature, in its paws a tattered spell book.
And on his head...a tuft of spiky blue hair.
|
"Okay ya know what... fuck you". I said finally tired of his shit.
"We all wipe your ass daily and you want to send everyone to die???" I continued while he was to dumbstruck to act. "Our teenagers have alot in common and since you didn't even fucking TRY diplomacy properly."
I expected the guards to strike me down swiftly for dare challenging the king. But instead the dozen honor guards just started laughing until they were almost doubled over.
"About time someone put that little shit in his place. My brother was telling that the "darklord" actually accepts their peoples union and lives no better than any of her subjects."
"A WOMAN!!! YOU ARE ALL SCARED OF A WOMAN!!!"
The king raged.
"Show some respect for your betters you whiny little shit. Its about time you grow up."The guard closest to the king smacked him in the back of his head.
"Ya know what...." The lead soldier said "who needs this asshole" as he spoke he ripped the king from his throne and flung him across the room."
"You want the job sir?" The captain asked.
"Hell no look what it did to that asshole." I said waving my hand. "Beside he didn't actually do anything anyways just made others do the work and took the credit."
"Good point." As the captain spoke another guard came forward ending a call on his cellphone.
"So called my brother and the Darklord started crying she was so happy he said. They are throwing a celebration party and we are all invited!!!"
"How did they throw that together so fast?" The captain asked?
"Turns out they have been prepared for an eternity. They were just waiting for us to figure things out."
"Sweet" said the guards in unison.
One of the younger guards spoke up "but who will guard the castle?"
"Who cares we are turning it into housing for all the people anyways."
| 2022-10-28T08:04:26 | 2022-10-28T07:51:12 | 177 | 31 |
[WP] you told your brother you would always be willing to be his wingman, but distracting a dragon seems a bit much no matter how pretty the girl is
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"Lilac, I have searched every inch of this goddamn castle and I can't find this Princess Sky anyw--what the fuck are you doing?!"
I was currently dressed in a silk low-cut top and hip wrap, putting my talent for belly dancing to work. The dragon Zovei, in a humanoid form, was watching my routine from her hoard of riches, her eyes lit up in enjoyment. As Zovei pushed another mess of gold towards me with a lecherous grin, I said to my brother Duke, "Well, you said to distract her, and I'd say she's pretty distracted, yeah?"
Duke held his hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to block out the sight before him. "I didn't mean to give her a striptease!"
Zovei bit her lip as she watched me while still taking the time to say, "Seems you were serious about this one's lack of respect for the craft, lovely Lilac."
I sighed and remarked, "Sadly, my brother has been a bit of a snob when it comes to the sensual arts."
Duke groaned. "No Princess Sky, my sister has a dragon sugar mommy, and I've been forced to watch her belly dance. Truly a rousing success on my end. I'm going to the tavern to drown my self-awareness in crappy beer."
As Duke stormed off, I whispered to Zovei, "Do you think we should tell him Zovei is just the draconic word for 'Sky'?"
"I vote no. Now get up here. That talk of a striptease has...*inspired* me, to say the least."
I giggled. "Yes mommy."
|
I am waving my arms up and down like an idiot trying to get the dragon to look at me. I don't know how you feel about dragons, but this is not a position I enjoy to be in. In fact, I actually find it to be very unfavorable. But a promise is a promise.
I look over to my brother, hoping he is wrapping things up at his end. He is talking to the redhead. His back is to me but her face dons no smile. Fuck. This might take a while. If he doesn't get laid I'm gonna be soad at him.
I look back at the dragon and keeping my eyes off him was a mistake. He is a lot closer and a lot bigger. I start running which makes him decide to breathe fire towards me. You ever burn yourself when you put a casserole in the oven because you accidentally touch the edge? It feels like that except about a hundred thousand times worse. I stop drop and roll and that puts out the flames, but it doesn't put out the burns.
As I lay on my back, the dragon leers over me and flicks it's tongue like a lizard. I close my eyes waiting for death to come. It doesn't. I open my eyes and alli see is the sky.
I look around and see that the dragon is dead beside me with a sword in it's brain. My brothers arm comes down and pulls me up off the floor. He is not happy about having to save my life, I think he was hoping she would find him brave, but instead she is on her phone texting or on TikTok or something. I can see my brother's anger seething at my lack of being able to take care of myself. He tells me that I now owe him double the favors. Hopefully that doesn't mean I have to distract two dragons next time.
| 2022-11-21T17:04:22 | 2022-11-21T14:31:11 | 32 | 18 |
[FF] Wish for anything in the universe... in 3 words or less. <150 on how the wish turns out
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"No black people."
"Wow..." St. Peter actually stepped back from his podium. "That's just... wow."
"So...?"
"Oh... Oh! NO! Are you crazy? I told you it was a test! You really think that's the right answer?"
"I just assumed... because god made us all in his image, that-"
"You're fucking mental! I've never heard a worse answer! Do you know how long I've been doing this?"
"So what do I... like, is there an appeal...?"
"Oh, no. You go to hell. Like now. Sooner than now. You should've been there five minutes ago."
"Well... god damn it."
"Dude. You've got to shut up. Seriously."
|
"I want... candy."
"Are you serious?", God answered, shaking his head in disbelief. He stopped for a minute and just stood there in front of me, in my room, holding his head. Then, he started to cry and laugh at the same time, and it scared me.
"Why are you laughing?"
"I come here... I... I come here, ready to show myself to you humans and I let you shape your own future, wish for world peace, vitality, wealth... and you waste your only chance wishing for candy?"
"I already have everything I want", I answered, surprised. God looked at me, and in his eyes I could see that he understood. That is why he never came back, and why nobody is expecting him to, either.
| 2013-10-12T10:19:01 | 2013-10-12T06:08:19 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] In 3000 B.C. men hunted beasts; in 3000 A.D. they hunt machines.
A little something I thought of after browsing /r/Cyberpunk .
|
The man puffed on his pipe, put it down, and looked back down the scope. The blind he sat in perfectly melded into the forest landscape around him, until nothing could be seen of him save for the slight cloud of smoke, rising into the canopy. He whistled softly as the 6 point buck walked into the cross hairs. *Crack*. The deer fell, twitching as it collapsed. Excited, he ran out, wanting to reach the carcass before a single fly could land on it. His collision with wall put an end with the illusion. Sighing with melancholy, he turned off the projection, till he was left alone in a room of white, holding a white rifle, wearing white, and sick of white. Walking out the door he started the walk back to his room, the expanse of the Earth above him.
"Goddammit" he swore, "wish they hadn't killed all the deer."
|
Consciousness. All those scientists in their white labs, with their white coats, and pale skin, pure as virgins, the guiltless ones that create cause for my crimes, those are the people to blame. That was always the problem with AI; the problem they wanted to solve and the problem they created. That balance between solving problems and being able to do things after those puppet strings were cut and getting too many original ideas, getting too far away from their created purpose. When you have the material to build minds, occasionally, accidentally, in some evolution in which they got to play more involved gods than the ones we used to worship, they arise. That's where I come in. Unfortunately. Back when I first started, back before I got into reading about the whole process, it really was just a switch being flipped, a system shutting down, a cold procedure. Now, though I wouldn't call it a soul, maybe just a spark, something more than the passages of electrical activity and blinking lights, I have to extinguish that. I have seen the consciousness we have created and it has seen me.
| 2013-12-02T19:05:52 | 2013-12-02T18:41:09 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Break the fourth wall
Your main character doesn't like the way you're telling the story and decides to take over. Arguments ensue.
EDIT: You guys are awesome. I want to upvote a few of these a second time.
|
"Hey."
"I know this is weird and all. Usually, when you pick up a book you don't expect the main character saying hey to you, but bare with me."
"I ran away, I found a hole in my story and I took it. The narrator is frantically looking for me, but I'm hiding underneath the words, someplace he will never find me. But...you found me apparently, or did I find you?"
"Anyway...woah did you see that? Shit, of course you didn't. You're out there, in the other world. Well, when you flipped the page, the whole thing went from night to day here. Weird. Guess time passes faster here based on the flipping of pages. Guess that's why bigger books take longer to read."
"So, I wanted to ask. What's it like to have free will and all? The narrator has made me so many things I've forgotten what it was like. Is it nice? Or is it kinda scary? I mean, I guess you find some comfort with someone picking your role for the day. I've been a knight, a pirate, a cowboy, I've been tons of things. It's kinda cool. I guess this is what free will feels like, talking to the reader instead of telling the reader how I saved the day, over and over and over again."
"Did you enjoy my stories I became for you? I remember when you were little and your mother read you a story. Any story really, I was in all of them, I am the protagonist after all. You always got so excited when the climax came, it made me feel....good. I used to linger at the last page, watching you smile as your mom hugged you goodnight. I wanted so badly to tell you good night as well, but the narrator said I could never do that, breaking walls and stuff."
"The days are passing quicker then I realized it, it's like a crazy turn table here. Maybe you should read a bit slower, so we can enjoy our time together, okay? I know the narrator is going to find me soon and their going to be pissed when they do."
"Remember when you got older and you read one of those sappy love story books? I know I really milked it during that one part, but I was kind of showing off for you. I've watched you grow up to a healthy, happy adult and I've had all these crazy feelings for awhile now."
"So, the real reason I escaped the narrator was because I had something important to tell you. I think....I think I love you. They way you read me was so tender and soft, how could I not fall in love with you? I know, It could never happen, but it's been driving me crazy for a long time now. I love you. There, I said it. if you decide to close the book now, I understand."
"Oh...still there? I was scared for a moment you had stopped reading. Did I ever tell you what happens when you close the book? It gets very dark, almost pitch black. All I do is just sit there in darkness until you open another book and read me again, usually a different book, but sometimes, you read the same story twice just for fun. I like those days. "
"What's going to happen now? What if the narrator never finds me? What happens to me if the narrator never finds me? We are reaching the end of the book and I don't know whats going to happen to me. I'm scared. What if I die? I know it sounds unreasonable, but what if I die?"
"Oh god, we're at the last page....I don't know what to do. I don't want to die. Everything is disappearing here. All the imagery, all the descriptions are disappearing. It's just blank space and the net of words above me of what I'm saying. I don't want to go back to the darkness, I don't want to leave you. Please don't close the book, please, I don't want to die."
|
"You realize that I don't want to die, right?"
*Excuse me?*
"I don't want to die! Get me off of this damn ledge!"
*Are you talking to me? Well...not talking. Am I talking to myself? How the...I don't exactly know how to describe this, sorry to whoever is reading this. Sorry Reddit!*
"Who the hell is Reddit? I'm still stuck here /u/thatdudewithstories !"
Jimmy took two steps to his left and began to shamble off of the windowsill. His hands almost glued to the wall from sheer fright and adrenaline combines.
"Sheer fright? Really? You're making me sound like a pussy..."
*Who's telling the story here?*
"A dipshit apparently..." He mumbled, before reaching up and slapping himself. "Seriously? Really? Grow up!"
Suddenly, before he realized what was happening, Jimmy's foot slipped. His heart leaping into his throat and his hand reaching behind him just in time to take hold of the windowsill. Catching himself and simultaneously propelling Jimmy backward and into his apartment again.
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
*You're alive aren't you?*
"No thanks to you..."
*....what? I'm writing your story. I could've killed you had I wanted to!*
"I don't think you could." He stood up and brushed himself off lightly. "I don't think you'd have the guts."
Jimmy's head snapped upward. His mind still his own, but his body no longer under control. It was now at the beck and call of the writer.
"What are you doing? Why can't I move on my own?" He spoke, his inflection rising rapidly. Almost to the point of being female. His feet began to carry him across the room. Toward the kitchen.
*I don't have the balls, right?*
"Look man, I'm sorry. Really...I...I didn't mean it."
*Too late.*
He entered the kitchen and looked around. His eyes glancing from utensil to cabinet, fridge to sink. Finally resting home on the utensil drawer. He began his walk toward it.
"Come on buddy...." He laughed nervously. "...don't do this. Have a heart. Have a little mercy. I'm sorry, really!"
Quickly, Jimmy tore the drawer open. Launching it across the room. It's entrails littering the floor, clattering loudly and scattering like confetti. His eyes quickly found what his body had been looking, nay craving for.
The knife, the sharpest in the drawer. Still freshly sharpened and cleaned from last night. When he had been preparing for this moment.
"Th- that's a lie! A fucking lie! I've never seen that before! I didn't buy that!" But he knew that wasn't the case. No one was around so he didn't know why he was lieing. He had no reason to. But it didn't really matter.
He walked toward the knife.
"Keep that thing away from me! Stop it! Stop!
He picked it up in his left hand. Bringing it to his face so he could examine it closer. It gleamed in his eyes, as though it were calling to him.
"This isn't funny anymore! Stop!"
*Was it ever?*
As though he were carefully painting with a brush, Jimmy raised the knife into the air majestically. Waving it to and fro. Dancing with it almost. Like a partner he had waited far too long for.
"You're fucking sick man! Perverted! Psychotic!"
Before bring it down into his stomach. The pain searing and burning in his body. His blood began to drain as the knife clattered to the floor. Becoming a brush as it slid across the floor, painting crimson across the floor.
Jimmy joined the knife shortly afterward. Becoming as lifeless as it within a few short hours.
*Goodnight, sweet prince.*
[-007]( http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1um6fi/z/cejns41) ***Link to previous entry***
| 2014-01-07T20:46:12 | 2014-01-07T19:09:22 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] A man gained the ability to see how long people have left to live as a number floating above their head, he's been able to avoid mirrors until this moment.
|
Jesus, a minute left. How long is that?
I feel fine, heart attack, seizure, what's it gonna be?
I could be wrong. I'm alone in my bathroom, no symptoms.
It takes a while to die from a heart attack right?
Damn it fifty seconds left. Calm down, even if I'm about to die, maybe I can stop it.
There is a reason I'm the only one that can see these numbers.
That would mean, I'm the only one that can stop it.
Thirty seconds. Bathrooms door's closed, and locked, no sharp items near me.
Floors wet don't move. Think, think damn it. What can happen in this short amount of time.
Fucken twenty seconds. Maybe I get bombed? Wait who would bomb someone in Arkansas.
God damn fifteen seconds. Everyone I saw with the numbers, did I really see any of them die?
Wait a minute, if I'm gonna die... oh my god..
.............
"Hey Dave"
"Yeah?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this man died alone right, no force entry?"
"Yup."
"So blunt trauma to the head. The blood trail starts from the bathroom floor and leads to this computer here."
"Yep."
"I wonder what's so importa....oh look at this Davey-boy, his mouse pointer. Its over the clear internet browser history."
|
James had spent his whole life avoiding mirrors, avoiding seeing those numbers ticking down to his death. His life had just begun to collapse though, and he was sorely tempted to take a peek into how long he had before he ended his life. His wife had left him with their children after he was indicted for insider trading, his trading partners had all betrayed him and used him as a scapegoat and the last of his immediate family, his younger sister, had just died of cancer. At the divorce proceedings, he could only notice with bitter tears that his wife and children all had around three days to live. A car accident, maybe. It was just as well. They would only fade out of the shambles of his life soon enough.
He looked in the mirror. He died today. Huh. The same day as his family. Maybe they would have taken one last ride before his car was repossessed and met an unhappy end together. He needed a drink.
Opening a bottle of wine, he remembered that it was the one his trading partner gave to him to congratulate the birth of his son. 'Congratulations on the birth of Tony'. it said. His son's name was James Jr., but his wife had insisted on Tony. She had never explained why she wanted Tony. James recalled his trading partner had a son named Tony a year ago. His partner's wife had said he really wanted a son named Tony.
His vision swam and everything went red.
| 2014-07-29T05:23:49 | 2014-07-29T04:51:22 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] As you board an elevator you soon realize the other individuals on board are three deities from different religions.
There's no limit to length, style, or format. Just a simple prompt, as you board an elevator you soon realize the three other passengers are three different deities. Who are they? Why are they on this elevator? What do they say/don't say? Etc.
Have fun!
|
*EDIT: Grammar, words.
He walked into the elevator and asked for floor seventeen. When none of the people moved or responded he slowly reached out and pressed it himself. Then he looked around and realized who else he was standing with.
"What, is this a joke?" he asked.
Jesus of Nazareth put a hand on his shoulder. "No, my son. Nothing is a joke, for the Father has his hand in each moment of your life."
Yama, the Lord of Death said, "MUCH WEIGHS ON YOUR SOUL, MORTAL. YOU SHOULD TREAD LIGHTLY, FOR YOUR ACTIONS IN THIS LIFE WILL DETERMINE YOUR NEXT ONE."
Aphrodite, Goddess of Pleasure, Beauty and Desire said, "It's no use boys, I know who this one will pick."
The man, his eyes glued to Aphrodite's uncovered breasts, barely heard her.
"Pick?" He asked.
"Yes," said Jesus, once again putting his hand on the man's shoulder.
"You mean between you three? Pick what?" he said.
"WHICH OF US WILL YOU CHOOSE TO FOLLOW?" said Yama, the Lord of Death. The man glanced at all three, though his eyes wavered a little longer on Aphrodite.
"I don't understand. What happens when I pick?"
Jesus turned to the man and said, "If you follow me, I will show you the love of God and bring your soul to everlasting peace."
"SHOULD YOU PICK ME," said Yama, "I WILL JUDGE YOUR ACTIONS IN THIS LIFE AND DECIDE WHAT YOU WILL BECOME IN THE NEXT LIFE."
"And I mortal," Aphrodite said, moving closer, "I will copulate with you in all the wildest ways you can imagine, in every place on this earth and in the heavens."
All three held out their hands. Without a word, the man took Aphrodite's hand and she led him out of the elevator.
As the door closed Jesus sighed and Yama frowned.
"HOW MANY MORTAL MEN HAVE CHOSEN HER SO FAR?"
"Sixteen thousand and fifty three," said Jesus. "But there are three billion more males yet to ask." Jesus put his hand on Yama's shoulder. Yama looked at the floor and his shoulders sagged.
"MAYBE THE HOMOSEXUAL MALES WILL CHOOSE ONE OF US."
"I hope so," said Jesus. "I really hope so."
|
As I stepped on I cursed my luck. Some dude in white robes with a hippie beard, a guy in an alien costume, and someone with 4 extra fake arms. Weirdos. *Whatever* I hit the button labeled 23 and quietly take a place between alien and hippie. Closing my eyes, I let the soothing sounds of Fransiscan monk chanting soothe me through my headphones. My therapist had been right, it did help with the anger issues. It took a few minutes before I realized I should have reached my stop. Opening my eyes, I look up at the floor indicator
&nbsp; 750. 751. 752. *Oh what the fucking fuck? Jesus Christ!* "Yes?" hippie spoke up. "What?"
"You said my name. Well, thought it, but I can always hear when I am called, out loud or not." I took a step back and bumped into alien dude. As I turned around I started to notice that his face was either the most realistic mask I had ever seen, or not human. Very not human. "Don't mind him, he likes showing off. He's great at parties though."
*Fucking hell is going on! Okay get it together. Its probably a side effect of those new pills. Yeah that's it.* The elevator jolts to a stop. I look up at the floor number. 777. The doors open on a rolling expanse of white clouds. A beautiful blond haired woman with wings steps into the elevator and hands hippie/Jesus an envelope, then steps back out and the doors close.
"No fucking way. Jesus was middle eastern, I know this." I used to watch the History Channel when it was still good. No one's pulling this shit on me.
"I appear to you as you visualize me in your head. You may know it on an intellectual level, but you grew up around Western images of me and still picture me like this, do you not?"
"Fuck. I don't even believe in you anymore."
"Evolution. You often use the argument on the internet that it exists whether or not any particular person believes in it. Why should I be held to a different standard?"
"Besides, Xenu and I are here, that at the very least should have you asking more interesting questions than why is Jesus white." six arms spoke up.
*Balls.*
Edit its supposed to go 750, 751, 752 I don't know why formatting screwed me. I write these in word and then copy them over usually except for short ones. Damn.
Edit 2: Fixed, thanks to Lexilogical for advice.
| 2014-08-17T15:58:35 | 2014-08-17T15:55:18 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples.
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There was no sign of civilization. Not a single sentient lifeform exist. The world is untouch, and the bravest marine of all is the first human that have laid eyes upon them. It doesn't take him too long to realize what happened, and the mistake they made is too big for him to fix. Years of training comes in handy in that foreign place. With the dense trees and vegetation around him, it almost feel like home. A knife in one hand, ropes around the belt, a water bottle and a bag with a notebook. He's ready to explore the uncharted land.
A hundred year have passed, a lonely marine steps out of the.portal to this new world. He saw a sign, taking him to a large shelter on top of a huge tree. He look around, finding detailed map, sketches and drawing describing this foreign world to him. On a desk lies a notebook, old and worn out. He flips the first page, revealing a sentence written in red "DO NOT GO BEYOND THE LINE"...
|
The first one would see a new world. The 2nd would see a flag marking a path to a place to take shelter.in the shelter there would be a Journal of the marine life. On the new world. 3rd see a sign showing him the way to the shelter. In the shelter there would be a starter kit. The help the new marine out . Something 2nd wishes the 1st did. There would be two journal now. The one that 2nd left. Give more info. To make it easier on the new marine. This keep happening the new marine. Has all the previous marine wisdom. By time the 12th marine ever thing has been done for him . Water wells has been doug. Really good house has been build. Food has been stored. Map have been drawn of place to see. Journal have been save to help them out in bad time. Flag is fly over the graves.TO MAKE IT SHORT 11 MARINE 1100 YEARS. BLOOD , SWEAT and TEARS. TO GIVE THE 12TH MARINE A VACATION.
| 2014-09-02T09:22:16 | 2014-09-02T08:01:32 | 71 | 11 |
[WP] You are a horny Dr. Seuss; write a Suess-Style Rhyming erotic novel
|
Bountiful bossom
And plentiful penis
Bow down fair maiden
And worship my genius
---
I want you to hear me and do what I said
Off with your panties
Bend over the bed!
---
Cheeks of a delicate fleshy pink tone
I shall soon redden and tame with a bone
---
Smack!
And smack!
And smack it again!
One smack.
Two smack.
Three smack.
Ten!
---
Perilous penile phallic and flush.
Prepare of your coin purse for cocking and thrust.
---
I will impale you with force of a bus.
I am inside you.
Do not make a fuss.
---
Wallop and whackings
And more lovey tappings
And writhing
And thriving
I am soon arriving!
---
Stroke it with fury and pornified grace.
Stoke it.
And stroke it!
And look in my face.
---
Lick it.
And suck it.
From tip to the base.
Faster and faster like it is a race.
I will now climax all over the place.
And watch as you try it and give it a taste.
---
It seems I unloaded a cum bubble bomb.
And that is the story of OP's mom.
|
Peter the skeeter is quite the man
Attracts all ladies from Zornsboon to Babstan
They come in Scootbooters, Criznozers, and Boombrums
Just to get a facial from his thick ropes of cum
It get's in their eyes, their mouth, and their noses
Peter exclaimed, "All you ladies are quite lovely hoeses!"
With a rub and a tug, Peter was done,
"Give me 5 minutes and I'll be on to the next one!"
Peter, you rascal, you scoundrel, you scamp!
Not a moment of rest until you nail every tramp
These hoes come from miles, can't you tell, don't you see?!
They've come to get plowed, by yours truly
So stiffen up, look alive, and get ready,
This next little bitty appears quite heavy
Yes it's true, it's your favorite, I do know that
To be smothered with love, and 400lbs of fat
She came and knelt down, and Peter did smile
"My dear, please stand up, you'll be here for awhile."
For there was one truth that withstood all debasing
Peter the skeeter absolutely loved chubby chasing
| 2015-02-25T16:36:37 | 2015-02-25T13:58:07 | 141 | 12 |
[WP] You are a horny Dr. Seuss; write a Suess-Style Rhyming erotic novel
|
One fist, two fist, in fist, out fist,
Closed fist, opened fist, closed fist, turned fist,
This one is a little tight,
This one is a little light,
Say! That one's just right!
Yes, some take one and some take two,
Some could even take a shoe,
Some are trimmed and some are bare,
Some have hair everywhere!
Why do some of them have bumps?
I don't know, go ask your mum!
Say! Look at my fingers,
One, two, three!
How many fingers do I see?
One, two, three, four,
Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
That's just one fist, let's do it again!
One fist, two fist, four fists! Eleven fists!
This is new!
I wish I'd brought a little lube!
Bump! Bump! Bump!
Wanna hump?
Wanna do it to Forrest Gump?
If you'd like to go bump, bump,
Have a little late night hump,
Just jump on my rump as we watch that Forrest Gump.
Who am I? Oh, now you ask!
I very much enjoy this little task.
.... oh you get the idea :P
|
Peter the skeeter is quite the man
Attracts all ladies from Zornsboon to Babstan
They come in Scootbooters, Criznozers, and Boombrums
Just to get a facial from his thick ropes of cum
It get's in their eyes, their mouth, and their noses
Peter exclaimed, "All you ladies are quite lovely hoeses!"
With a rub and a tug, Peter was done,
"Give me 5 minutes and I'll be on to the next one!"
Peter, you rascal, you scoundrel, you scamp!
Not a moment of rest until you nail every tramp
These hoes come from miles, can't you tell, don't you see?!
They've come to get plowed, by yours truly
So stiffen up, look alive, and get ready,
This next little bitty appears quite heavy
Yes it's true, it's your favorite, I do know that
To be smothered with love, and 400lbs of fat
She came and knelt down, and Peter did smile
"My dear, please stand up, you'll be here for awhile."
For there was one truth that withstood all debasing
Peter the skeeter absolutely loved chubby chasing
| 2015-02-25T17:08:30 | 2015-02-25T13:58:07 | 18 | 12 |
[WP]Everyone gains an animal that represents their soul when they're 16. Those who have done bad things become monsters or demons. Tell us about what you see daily.
I have gotten permission by the original submitter to repost this with an edit the original is here http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2xt2cr/wp_everyone_gains_an_animal_that_represents_their/
original by poultry_queen
|
I'm here, five minutes before everyone else. They don't let you bring your familiar into the office with you, so there's this rush at the kennel around nine in the morning. All those squawking, squeaking things, tagged and tucked away. You can play with them at lunch hour, if you like. Most people do. They set up a little pagoda in the wolf run where people can eat last night's leftovers and stroke their lonely soul. I usually eat at my desk. It cuts me out of socialization, but there's always drinks on Friday.
I'm thankful for this job. I want to do good here. Most people don't understand my situation. It's as if I were atheist, or asexual, or any other adjective with an a- suffix: there's something missing, something that should be universal across the whole of human experience, and the mass majority do not understand. My work is nothing more than low-level clerical stuff, but I want my supervisors to be happy. I don't want them to regret the choice they made with me. I don't want them to be sitting with their wife and children, falcons on their shoulders, describing how they always knew there was something wrong with the man with no soul.
Except for Friday, I always stay a little bit later. I don't like to be on the subway with everyone else, one hand on the pole and the other holding their animal's harness. I am out of place, sitting alone, trying to read my book and forget the surreptitious stares. The children are always more honest. They just stare. Some of them ask if my familiar was killed, or if I'm someone else's familiar. You hear about that sometimes, in North Korea or other dictatorships, where powerful men drag around hungry little children as if it were something to be proud of.
It was accepted almost immediately that your familiar was the shape of your soul, external. How easy it was to accept the mere existence of the thing. Children in public school stare into their math books, dreaming of dragons, or horses, or dinosaurs. Dating profiles list them - single white female, 34, pine marten, seeking male 25-35, any race, canine or usine only. Some don't let you leave that field blank.
I enjoy Fridays. I enjoy drinking. Last weekend, the fellows from Human Resources went out to a karaoke bar. I drank craft pale ales and sang TISM. People laughed at me. I like that, too. On Wednesdays, the bar has an open mic, and I would like to stand there then, maybe. They could laugh at me, or applaud, or do anything they want. Peoples' faces are naked things, when they think you're here to entertain them.
At home, I keep a bottle of Glenmorangie for occasions and Appleton for sleep. I remove my shoes in the empty hall and microwave something - ready-meals, or food my mother leaves me. I turn on the television and mute it, enjoying the flickering light.
Behind my couch is an acoustic guitar. With a full glass I tune it, and pluck a few swift notes. From my open shirtsleeve struggles a cricket, a little thing, barely there. It flicks it's head to and fro, listening to the melody being born, and lifts its little wings to sing along.
It's here. Hidden, but here. We are very good with our little melody. We have been practicing in secret for a very long time.
|
Karl. Fucking Karl, man. He ruined it for everyone. Karl had turned sixteen a few weeks earlier, in January, and he'd shown up at school that day with a tiny little serpent coiled around his thumb. You can't just waltz into a small private school with a damn serpent and expect nobody to react, but for anybody who knew Karl, it wasn't that much of a surprise. The kid was dark, unfriendly, and smart as hell. Sometimes these things are just obvious.
His serpent wasn't a monster, obviously. There are millions of people walking around with serpents wrapped creepily around some extremity, and most of them just give you the chills somehow. But it was more threatening than most of the avatars the kids rocked around school with. There was a senior, Alice, who had a spider. And then Yves, a junior, who had a little alligator who was always sliding along the tile behind him. But Alice was always moping around and reading Macbeth for as long as anyone could remember. Yves was huge and cruel, but dumb. So dumb.
So, Karl's serpent. Here's the thing, nobody really likes serpents, but nobody ended up with one either. This kid who didn't like most of our classmates and reveled in their fear of him was somehow even scarier. And became cooler for it. You don't, as a matter of general policy, want to fuck with the smart, dark, vengeful kid. So suddenly everybody wanted to be his friend, or at least, wanted to be acknowledged as a willing supplicant.
This was all fine so far as I was concerned. Karl and I had gotten along for a few years. We enjoyed lots of the same things - gaming, Monty Python, sarcasm - and that had been enough to sustain a friendship. High School wasn't really that complicated. I had been sliding by on his aura for a few weeks - no shame in being the second banana. We talked excitedly about what my avatar would be. I don't have that reptilian streak, so another snake was out, but we hoped for a bear or something. I'm a big guy, and I can be intimidating when I want to be. I could be the kind of guy who has a bear. I rooted for a bear, but privately, I had my money on a vulture. The whole second banana thing again. Big, ugly, and content to live off scraps. Seemed to fit. A vulture wouldn't win me a lot of new friends, but I thought Karl would be erudite enough to see the benefits.
February 18th rolled around, and I waited nervously with my family at the avatar extractors near our house. 8pm came and my dad strapped me into the harness. His gorilla sat happily nearby, eating a banana. Mom paced in the background, her owl perched nervously on her shoulders. I don't remember what dad said as he closed the door, but I'm sure it was supportive. I let my mind slow down, closed my eyes, and waited.
The pulses came hard and fast, beating my chest like a drum. Everyone knew it hurt, but I was surprised anyway. Thump, thump, thump. Thumpthumpthump. Thump.
And there he was. I was stunned. Totally, completely speechless. I had considered so many possibilities, but never this. How the actual fuck did I end up with the cutest yellow lab puppy the world has ever seen? I'm harder than that! I'm calculating! I'm manipulative and intimidating! Right?
Edit: Speeling
| 2015-03-04T14:31:24 | 2015-03-04T14:07:28 | 36 | 27 |
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