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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
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[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen.
|
My wife slept besides our newborn, too exhausted to remain awake during her feeding. The doctor said not to nurse while sleeping to avoid rolling and smothering the baby. After a week of near constant feeding though I don’t think my wife had the energy to move. I was wrong. I reacted slowly as I saw her roll onto our little girl. Sleep deprivation paralyzed me. Then a moment later I saw a tiny hand shove my wife onto her back. I looked at our baby and she looked at me, her mouth smeared red, smiling.
| 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T06:57:13 | 168 | 58 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen.
|
"...nothing but corn, hicks, and bullshit." Ron gestured wildly into the endless cornfields in front of him as he finished his rant. "You've gotta come with me when I move. We're just wasting time out here; the country life sucks. You know it does."
Ron tried to meet Sarah's eyes, but she was staring vacantly into the distance. "...Helloooo? Earth to Sarah - are you in there...?"
His voice trailed off as he followed her gaze. Miles and miles away, beyond the golden horizon, a tower rose into the sky on a pillar of fire; and then another, and another.
| 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T08:26:32 | 168 | 34 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen.
|
"Why do I burn the bodies?"
He doesn't know. He can’t comprehend his fascination. The gatekeeper drops the corpses down the chute, and he watches the limp bodies jiggle as they collide with the floor.
Setting it on the table, he peels the flesh off, then, meticulously, removes the muscle and organs. The tendons are his favorite. He loves a good challenge.
He sets the skeleton next to the others on the floor. He takes a match to the pile of torn flesh and innards, and watches it burn, always asking the eternal question.
"Why do I burn the bodies?"
| 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T07:02:35 | 168 | 31 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen.
|
They called it *Being Awake*.
We called it *Redundant*.
It was the same every morning when they awoke. Silence followed by sudden movements and chilled screams of joy. Like chalk whistling against the grain of a blackboard. And it was prison.
But this was voluntary. We made this. Cathleen mostly, but she often reminded me I played my part.
They said unconditional love would follow. "You couldn't know until you had one." They were right. We couldn't know and we felt unconditional love for everything we once had.
We lost silence, and furnished a discordant group of sounds.
| 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T08:18:50 | 168 | 28 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen.
|
I pull into the driveway after a long day of work. The kids' bikes aren't thrown in the yard and the lawn has been mowed, just like I asked my son to do this morning.
I unlock the front door and go inside. The front room is picked up, vacuumed and all the games are stacked neatly near the console. The rest of the house is similarly clean and tidy.
"Where are the kids?" I ask my spouse.
"We don't have kids" is the answer.
| 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T09:01:47 | 168 | 14 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
Growing up in the north, you get pretty used to the sounds of nighttime wildlife. Owls hooting, dogs howling, racoons rooting through your garbage. Sometimes you get the occasional bear prowling your yard, or coyote going after the pets left outside. Just after sunset, something started scratching incessantly at my door. Normally I would just sleep it off.
But it's been 36 hours now, and the sun still hasn't risen.
|
I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved digging.
When I was a kid, I would dig and dig until my hands were raw. One time, I scraped my fingernails off trying to break through concrete. They sent me away after that, gave me a whole bunch of meds. But actually, I never feel clearer than when I have the earth between my fingers and dirt up to my elbows.
I’m not crazy. Too bad you’re the only one who knows that, and they’ll never find you all the way down there.
| 2015-06-09T09:15:22 | 2015-06-09T08:29:07 | 168 | 11 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The tens of thousands that gathered in the crowd on that overcast winter day stood anxiously waiting, huddling next to another for warmth. Many of those arrived from surrounding cities to witness the celebrations that would take place in the coming days. They brought with them blankets, American flags, and their Bibles.
As the day approached noon, a famous country musician sang at the podium, which silenced the crowd. The crowd cheered as he left the stage.
A middle aged man took the stage. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the inauguration of President Ted Cruz."
|
In 1984, an oil painting was recovered from an abandoned house somewhere in Lousiana. Mahagony frame, weathered and neglected. No signature of the artist. Perhaps it was the work of the homeowner.
What was the painting of?
The upper torso of a brunette, eyes tightly closed, mouth hideously wide open, the background colored a pleasant cerulean.
It was later brought to a pawn shop, where it hung on a wall. Days later, the owner of the shop was reported missing.
The investigation came up with nothing. The trail had gone cold.
They should've looked at the painting.
| 2015-06-09T07:44:17 | 2015-06-09T07:11:34 | 108 | 69 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The tens of thousands that gathered in the crowd on that overcast winter day stood anxiously waiting, huddling next to another for warmth. Many of those arrived from surrounding cities to witness the celebrations that would take place in the coming days. They brought with them blankets, American flags, and their Bibles.
As the day approached noon, a famous country musician sang at the podium, which silenced the crowd. The crowd cheered as he left the stage.
A middle aged man took the stage. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the inauguration of President Ted Cruz."
|
"Why do I burn the bodies?"
He doesn't know. He can’t comprehend his fascination. The gatekeeper drops the corpses down the chute, and he watches the limp bodies jiggle as they collide with the floor.
Setting it on the table, he peels the flesh off, then, meticulously, removes the muscle and organs. The tendons are his favorite. He loves a good challenge.
He sets the skeleton next to the others on the floor. He takes a match to the pile of torn flesh and innards, and watches it burn, always asking the eternal question.
"Why do I burn the bodies?"
| 2015-06-09T07:44:17 | 2015-06-09T07:02:35 | 108 | 31 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The room is exactly as I recall it, to the most precise detail, but this is not my home. These walls, bookshelf, the leather couch, this is a shroud pulled over something far more malevolent. Then voices, I hear them coming from the basement, they whisper “he knows.” I look to the living room window, into the night. A small crowd of pale, blank, expressionless faces gathered, pointing at me, viewing me on display like some exhibit in a zoo. “He sees us,” one whispers. And then a scream “PUT HIM BACK, PUT HIM BACK NOW.”
Awake in my bed.
|
I breathed heavily under the covers. A creak made me jump unwillingly. Dad wasn't here, so he didn't check the closet. What if *it* were there? What if it was waiting for me?
I got out of bed and crept towards my closet. I imagined a monster ready to pounce on me. Gripping the brass handle I swung it open. I gasped again, there was nothing there. Calmer, I got back into bed. The covers were still warm, thankfully.
'No one ever checks *in* the bed' The doppelganger chuckled. His nails lengthened and he flashed his sharp teeth. 'Dinnertime!'.
---
e: Grammar
| 2015-06-09T09:54:42 | 2015-06-09T07:44:49 | 95 | 23 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The room is exactly as I recall it, to the most precise detail, but this is not my home. These walls, bookshelf, the leather couch, this is a shroud pulled over something far more malevolent. Then voices, I hear them coming from the basement, they whisper “he knows.” I look to the living room window, into the night. A small crowd of pale, blank, expressionless faces gathered, pointing at me, viewing me on display like some exhibit in a zoo. “He sees us,” one whispers. And then a scream “PUT HIM BACK, PUT HIM BACK NOW.”
Awake in my bed.
|
The town square sparkled like the 4th of July sky. Children's laughter filled the air; old friends were catching up. Hearing them made me think of Junior and my wife and my lifelong friends.
From behind me, the wooden platform creaked as a man approached my position. His voice erupted forcing the crowd's to quickly simmer down. I knew not what he was saying, but it struck me worse than a whip. The speech ended, the joyous crowd sprung to life, and without seeing, I felt the gazes shift to my sorry soul.
*My cowardice in surrender was so easily avoidable*, I thought, as the floor vanished and I swung my life out to the melody of the wind.
| 2015-06-09T09:54:42 | 2015-06-09T08:48:23 | 95 | 12 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
"...nothing but corn, hicks, and bullshit." Ron gestured wildly into the endless cornfields in front of him as he finished his rant. "You've gotta come with me when I move. We're just wasting time out here; the country life sucks. You know it does."
Ron tried to meet Sarah's eyes, but she was staring vacantly into the distance. "...Helloooo? Earth to Sarah - are you in there...?"
His voice trailed off as he followed her gaze. Miles and miles away, beyond the golden horizon, a tower rose into the sky on a pillar of fire; and then another, and another.
|
I breathed heavily under the covers. A creak made me jump unwillingly. Dad wasn't here, so he didn't check the closet. What if *it* were there? What if it was waiting for me?
I got out of bed and crept towards my closet. I imagined a monster ready to pounce on me. Gripping the brass handle I swung it open. I gasped again, there was nothing there. Calmer, I got back into bed. The covers were still warm, thankfully.
'No one ever checks *in* the bed' The doppelganger chuckled. His nails lengthened and he flashed his sharp teeth. 'Dinnertime!'.
---
e: Grammar
| 2015-06-09T08:26:32 | 2015-06-09T07:44:49 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The wheel was pressed too far into her ribs and every breath, no matter how shallow, radiated waves of agony from deep inside her chest.
She could see, but the light was wrong. The noise of rushing, bubbling water muted other sounds. She couldn’t feel her feet, but she registered the water that was rising up past her chest. So cold.
When she tried to move, the wheel, the belt and the pain kept her from moving more than a few inches.
She saw movement in the mirror, and sick panic rose with the water.
“Mama, get me up! Up!”
|
The town square sparkled like the 4th of July sky. Children's laughter filled the air; old friends were catching up. Hearing them made me think of Junior and my wife and my lifelong friends.
From behind me, the wooden platform creaked as a man approached my position. His voice erupted forcing the crowd's to quickly simmer down. I knew not what he was saying, but it struck me worse than a whip. The speech ended, the joyous crowd sprung to life, and without seeing, I felt the gazes shift to my sorry soul.
*My cowardice in surrender was so easily avoidable*, I thought, as the floor vanished and I swung my life out to the melody of the wind.
| 2015-06-09T09:37:54 | 2015-06-09T08:48:23 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] Your whole life you have heard a strange melody playing in your head. You've never heard it anywhere else, and eventually you simply learn to live with it. One day, you walk past a man whistling that tune.
|
She begged me not to go. It wasn't at all attractive of her. I should just leave her be, let her move on, but I'm a selfish bastard and she has great tits.
I jogged down the stairs and burst outside, finally letting out the air I had been holding. With the guilt twisting my breath, I told myself I would call her later, break it off for good. I had never made any promises, said any words that could be misconstrued, but I knew she felt a lot more than I did. I could never feel like that about someone else, but she didn't know that. Assuring myself, patting myself on the back, I strolled down the sidewalk, my spirits much higher now that I had decided to do the right thing. I had promised myself this before, but it was different now. I couldn't breathe around her anymore.
I hummed as I went along, trying to get rid of the bad mood I was in. It always helped. My song had always made me feel better, stronger, more confident. It was all mine. I had never heard my song before, no one I had ever asked had heard it. When I was a egotistical teenager, not that I'm not an egotistical adult, I considered myself akin to Beethoven. I imagined I knew how he had felt with such genius running through him. I just had the one song, however, so I had to give that notion up as I got older and couldn't do more than play Chopsticks on the piano. And not very well, at that.
My mood lifted, I looked upwards, smiling at the sun. I kept along my path and nodded at the people I made accidental eye contact with, returning a few nervous smiles. I'm telling you all of this so I can get to this one moment. The minute, no second, that everything finally made sense.
I saw the man up ahead. He looked cheerful, and I could tell he was whistling as he meandered along. He was an older guy, unassuming and average looking. As we neared each other I had already gotten distracted by a sundress, but when I heard his tune, I whipped around. He was whistling my song.
I stood there for a second, unsure if I had even heard right. I followed after him, getting close enough to hear his whistle again. It was the one. This was crazy. So, I wasn't as unique as I thought. I knew it. My mother had said it enough. I had to ask him, of course.
I tapped his shoulder, and he turned, mid-whistle. He smiled at me, and I thought I saw something familiar, but it was fleeting.
"This is strange, I'm sorry, but what is that song you're whistling there?" I asked him, almost afraid he would dismiss me.
He grinned wider, "It's a ditty I made up a long time ago, just something that came to me one day when I was holding my first kid. Why'd ya ask? Ya like it? My wife's always saying I should write some of my noise down, but that wouldn't make it fun anymore".
Maybe I had went to kindergarten with his firstborn, or had some interaction when I was too young to really remember, and the child had repeated it and it left an impression or something. I needed to find out.
"Where did your kid go to preschool? Again, sorry, but this is blowing my mind and the coincidence of actually hearing you, and....."
I trailed off. His smile was gone, his face pale. I could see the lines that aged him much clearer, and he looked a lot older than he had before.
He swallowed hard and I felt like I had just kicked a hundred puppies.
" My boy, my first son, my namesake, was taken from us. He went with his momma to the fair when he was no more than 3, and she turned to pay for cotton candy and never saw him again. Damn near tore us apart. I'm sorry, son. Didn't want to get all heavy here, but I don't know what to do about your music. Maybe we've crossed paths, I'm always whistling, always trying to raise my own spirits, trying to forget the bad past."
His eyes shone with the tears he didn't want to shed in front of a stranger. He hung his head as the last sentence was said, and he turned to walk away.
I remembered a fair. Being at a fair when I was young, and not being with my mom. I had asked her before about the lady I remembered being with, the red haired one, but mom just said I must have seen it in a movie and was just making up stuff like I did when I was little. I had a lot of stories I liked to tell as a kid. An overactive imagination, mom said. She would get real mad when I would tell one of my stories. She hated them. My head was fucking spinning, and I had a moment of beautiful clarity.
"Wait!", I almost fell as I ran, again, to catch up.
I had to tell him about my memory. And, that I was adopted.
|
I've always heard it, I've embraced it. I know it's not normal, but it's my normal, so normal that I actually have to tune into it to be aware that its there. Most days I go around without it coming to the fore of my consciousness. Today was one of those days. I work in a top government facility, my job is to be normal, to blend in, to watch and then report back the whispers.
Todays' whispers had led me on a shopping spree down Oxford street; you would be surprised what you hear from the rich and powerfuls' spouses, mistresses and daughters. It was on my way to a particular favourite retailer of one of my sources that I heard it. He was leaning against a wall, dressed in a suit and a long black coat, his features were average, but not unappealing, but altogether forgettable; thinking back on it, he was perfect. He was whistling, not looking in any particular direction, but he was whistling, *he was whistling*. How did he know it? Suddenly he was looking at me, and only then did I realise that I was standing in the middle of the pavement staring, slack jawed. Now let me tell you, it takes a lot to surprise me, let alone make me stand stock still. He smiled a little smile, a knowing smile. Who is he?
Realising that I had to do something, I decided to approach him, he blinked a little in surprise, obviously not expecting me to be so forthright. 'Hello', he spoke softly. 'Hi' I reply with far more confidence than I felt, I was trained to listen, not this, whatever it was I was doing.
'Can I help you?', he continued. 'Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me what the tune was you were whistling?'.
'Hmmm, it's just one I happen to whistle sometimes, do you know it?', he responded. How do you explain something that you didn't even understand yourself, so I did something I wouldn't usually do. 'Here's my number, call me and maybe I'll tell you over dinner'. With that I headed off in my 3 inch heels towards work, towards what I was good at.
Surprisingly he called me that afternoon, he didn't wait 48hrs or seem to be playing any of the usual games that men make up. He took me for dinner, he asked me questions about myself, my childhood, my parents. He kept me so busy with questions about myself, that I didn't get to ask him anything in return. He was a perfect stranger, a stranger that made me feel at ease, he had a pleasant face, a calm voice and demeanor; I knew nothing about him, other than he was a chauffeur and liked to ask questions. He offered to drive me home, but with a detour, to a place where you could see the whole of London glittering in the distance.
We had been sitting in the car for a while in silence, appreciating the secluded view. It was so still and quiet, that when he spoke it startled me, 'That tune you were asking about earlier, what does it mean to you?'.
How should I answer this? So I decided to start at the beginning. I told him how, as far back as I could remember it was seared into my brain, that no matter what I did it was always there in the recesses of my mind. That I had no recollection of ever hearing it from outside sources, until that day we had met. He listened avidly, not interrupting. When I finished, I felt empty, but relieved to have shared it with someone else.
He was looking at me intently, moving slowly to face me. It was then that I noticed he had cord wrapped around both his hands, with extra length between his fists. For the first time I was scared, and I didn't know why, I knew enough from my training that what was about to happen was going to happen, but what I wanted to know was, why? 'You're going to kill me. Why?', I ask as calmly as my now shaking body would allow.
He responded in his now familiarly calm pleasant voice, 'That tune is too dangerous, you're too dangerous'. Now I was panicking, now I was desperate, 'What, why?', I grab for the door handle in a desperate attempt to escape, but of course it was locked. He was still staring at me calmly, obviously calculating the moment to make his move in the small confines of the car. Despite my asking, I knew I wouldn't get any answers. I could fight, but that would only make it worse. My mind was a jumbled mess, I didn't want to die, but I had had my training. So I took a deep breath and nodded at him, nodded that I was ready. The rope stung, it bit into my skin, crushing my esophagus, my lungs burned, my head felt like it would burst and despite my surrender, I did fight, I fought when all the feeling had left my extremities, when my attempts to loosen the rope were fruitless and feeble, I fought till the light went out of my eyes and I hung limply in the passenger seat. I died not knowing why, but that the tune was the key and that death was the price to pay to keep the secret.
| 2015-07-12T12:58:42 | 2015-07-12T11:37:45 | 119 | 21 |
[WP] Death falls in love with you
You may not be over your ex.
|
I am flirting with death. Not the "be irresponsible" kind, but the "literally on a date with Death" kind. We first met four years ago, in the most obvious place to meet death, a funeral. Specifically, my dead husband's funeral. I was apparently the only one that could see the skeleton in the front row. I managed to keep my composure, I wanted to honor my husband's memory. His death was sudden, a unexpected heart attack. He died in my arms.
**I am flirting with a human. Avoiding humans is one of my most important rules, but I made an exception for this one. She is exceedingly beautiful. Anyone who expects me to comment on her excellent personality should bone up on their popular culture. I take what I want, and I want beauty.**
Death doesn't know my secret. Tonight, he will ask me to join him in the underworld as his wife. I will agree, inheriting all of his powers to share as equals, but not for long. I will kill death and rescue my husband, and my husband and I will escape together. No one will ever have to die again. I keep a straight face, but smile internally
**She doesn't know my secret. Tonight, I will ask her to join me in Hell. She will agree, then attempt to backstab me and rescue her husband. Her plan was not thought through very well. We are going to Hell. Her husband, the one I murdered, is in Heaven.**
|
Immortality is not worth it. Maybe it was the way I fought her with every ounce of strength I could muster way back then, in those hellish trenches? Maybe it was how I aided her in taking so many? God I was a good shot, one of the best we had. Never got my due credit either, can't really walk across "no mans land" to confirm such things. Whatever it was that garnered me her favor, that artillery should have killed me. Buried 12 feet below the surface in a collapsed bunker for 2 days with nothing but darkness and the corpses of men she cared nothing for. I thought that was the afterlife, you just get to see things through your body until God knows what. When the good lads came to fetch my body there was utter shock from all parties. I thought that first ray of sunshine was Saint Peter pulling me out of purgatory. How naive of me.
The War went on as I watched countless others get granted their final rest while I suffered pain no man dares imagine. Have you ever coughed out enough mustard gas to kill a dozen men? Have you ever been riddled with MG fire in some foolhardy advance only to have those sadist surgeons claim victory over her using your body? Prior to proper anesthesia mind you. Those incompetent butchers are why I've had this fucking limp for 100 years this very fall. It's kind of funny when you think about it, the only man in the world doomed to walk the Earth forever and I can't even do that right.
| 2015-07-13T07:42:37 | 2015-07-13T07:18:38 | 303 | 45 |
[WP] [NSFW] All your sex toys come alive and confront you about your treatment of them.
|
I held the long, rigid shaft in my right hand, the left one grasping at the bedsheets as I brought myself closer and closer to the point of no return. Panting, I kept my pace steady as I awaited the inevitable peak of the mountain.
*What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"*
I shrieked as I jerked the dildo away from me and threw it against the wall on the other side of the room where it bounced off and landed on a pile of laundry after I heard a very muffled and angry voice come out of nowhere. I looked around frantically for the source. My room had no windows, and was empty of anybody else. My heart rate slowed. It was probably a video that I left open on my-
"Oi, over here you dumb cunt!"
The voice was just as angry as before, but much more clear. Clear enough for me to realize that it was now coming from my laundry basket.
"Yeah, that's right love, it's me, your good ol' rub and tug."
I stared at the little thing as it bounced around spastically on top of a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. "Are you...talking?"
"The fuck else would I be doing, interpretative dancing?" I opened my mouth to respond. "No don't answer that. There's much more pressing issues at the moment besides my sentiency. What the fuck were you doing with me just then?"
My cheeks coloured. "I...I was...you know..."
"I'll tell you what I *fucking* know!" it said as it gave another vigorous jump and landed on the floor. "What you were doing was absolutely disgusting! What in holy hell were you thinking you dumb bint?"
"You're a dildo!" I retorted, starting to get slightly miffed as a response from its anger. "What else am I supposed to do with you?"
"I'm well aware of what I am, thank you kindly!" It seethed back. "You however seem to be quite ignorant! I am the Ass Blaster 3000. Not Pussy Pounder. Not the Muff Masher. Ass Blaster. I am to be used for the express purpose- THE. EXPRESS. PURPOSE." It spat the words out like they were mouthfuls of rotten food. "of anal penetration and nothing else! How dare you stuff me inside your disgusting minge like that!"
I was agape. "Does it really matter?" I asked it as I took in the strangeness of the situation.
"Does it really- DOES IT REALLY MATTER?" It stuttered in its rage. "How would you like it if someone stuffed you up their cooter, eh? It ain't pretty love, I'll tell you that! In fact, it's disgusting up there?"
"And you'd...rather go up my ass? The place where shit comes from?"
"You bet your nasty beef curtains that I wou- wait, what?" The dildo went still and its voice got a lot less angry. "Shit comes out of your ass?"
I blinked. Can't say that that's a question I thought I'd ever have to answer. "Yes. That's where I poop."
"Oh." It was silent for a few moments. "Carry on then."
|
"You're not a real egg!"
"Then why are we shaped like one?!"
--------
I've never been much of a customer for coitus toys. I found them to be a bit silly, to be quite honest. When you're someone like me, you don't have time to masturbate because you're too busy having actual sex. My life's awesome.
One day, a friend of mine told me about the Tenga Egg. They looked ridiculous, it was hysterical. We both laughs for a good couple of minutes before my friend told me he seriously used them. I told him that if he could get laid once, he'd never want the egg again. Why use a silicone egg when you can get a woman's egg fertile? It feels awesome.
A couple days pass and I wake up to a package arriving on my doorstep. It's seemingly from Japan, based off of the writing. I find my box cutter and slowly make sure to slide down the middle, as to not damage the merchandise. For all I know I could be a top of the line figure. That would be pretty awesome.
It's not a figure.
"Just try them, it may not be like the real thing but they're amazing.
-Friend"
I was sent a 6 pack of Tenga Eggs. The same ones I laughed at and ridiculed. I specifically told my friend I had no use for them. I can get laid, my life's awesome.
A day passes before I decide to try out the eggs. I figure I might as well try them out if I have them, and hey, they were a gift, why not? I looked up my favorite busty milf video and proceeded to get aroused. I open up one of the eggs, named silky. It has a nice, smooth texture on the inside, felt nice. Inside the egg came a pack of lube I use to oil up the egg. Free lube? Even if I didn't like the egg I'd at least have some lube to use, awesome.
After lubing up the egg, I wrap it around my nice, hot, large member. Upon insertion, I feel out of this world. I feel like my eyes are rolling back, my body's going numb. When I started stroking, both these things *did* happen. Oddly enough, after all the sex I've ever had, none of my climaxes felt as awesome as this one did. I fell in complete love.
The eggs say they're one time use, but fuck that. They're easy to wash and you can just use your own lube after you use the single use pack that comes with each egg. So weeks pass before I'm done with all my eggs, which is nice.
I start to beat myself with just my hand on a Saturday evening. It doesn't feel the same. I need the eggs. I was pretty sure I still had one lying around, so I went to look for it.
The same egg I look for trips me. I fell right onto my erect South Pole and started cursing under my breath. Now wasn't the time to masturbate, I needed to tenderly care for my cock.
That is, until the egg started speaking.
---------
"It feels bad, doesn't it?!"
----------
I'll maybe finish this when I'm at a computer depending on feedback, I can't continue this on a phone. This would be my first time ever contributing to a prompt.
| 2015-08-02T07:49:38 | 2015-08-02T06:51:04 | 39 | 24 |
[FF] Create a rollercoaster of emotions using no more than 100 words.
|
Drinks pour and friends laugh.
He toasts to us, closest friends for so many years.
I've known him since we were kids playing in sprinklers and trying to hit each other with lawn darts.
He will leave to fight.
I see him again and he is pale.
Killed in action.
Drinks pour.
No one laughs.
We toast him, our closest friend gone from us.
From me.
I'll see him soon.
|
“Push. You're almost there. Keep it up!” You give it your all and finally the baby is born.
“It’s a boy!” The doctor says and gives it a little slap on the rear.
He hands you the baby and you are overfilled with emotions. Tears start streaming down your face. He looks just like his father. The bright, beautiful blue eyes and the short, pointy nose. He is my baby and I shall love him forever.
Then you notice he isn’t breathing. The doctors take him away. He checks his pulse and the look on his face tells it all.
| 2015-09-09T18:22:05 | 2015-09-09T17:36:31 | 28 | 15 |
[wp] after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and "everyone sins, its ok". instead the dead are sorted into six "houses of heaven" based on the sins they chose.
|
*Circa 500 B.C.*
His sandals slapped on the marble, the sound barely rising above the distant moaning and heady laughter echoing from the other Houses. The worn-out strips of leather that wrapped his feet were out of place against the ornate floor-murals made with deep azures and gold-leafed designs.
The walls seemed to be moving - squeezing in, and squeezing out. The acrid scent of burning filled the hallway, and slight tendrils of smoke lifted up from the corners of the room.
**"WELL?"** the voice of God swept over him like a wave, threatening to knock him to his knees.
Chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling clinked and swayed, causing tiny lights to dance over the man's shaved head.
He clasped his hands together, and as if refusing nothing more than a sweet treat, he said, "No, thank you."
As if in response, the whole room quaked. Tremors rattled the chandeliers, and bits of crystal rained down on the marble floor, shattering like ice.
**"I HAVE SHOWN YOU ALL OF MY HOUSES. HOW CAN NONE OF THEM INTEREST YOU?"** God demanded.
The man rubbed at the back of his shiny scalp, a lopsided touching his wrinkled eyes, "Forgive me, but it is all very *material*."
The tendrils of smoke plumed into columns, **"AND?"**
His grin faltered. He shrugged, and adjusted the wine-colored sash wrapped around his body, saying "I thought there would be more."
**"MORE?"** the floor below his feet shook, and this time he really did fall to his knees, **"YOU STAND IN THE HOUSE OF GREED, AND YOU WANT MORE?"**
"Yes. No. I mean to say, I thought your heaven would be *different.*"
**"UNGRATEFUL!"** the voice of God roared, and cracks appeared through the marbled murals. The chandeliers rocked violently, and a rain of shattered crystal and flakes of gold crackled around him. But the man did not move to cover himself. Instead, he crossed his legs, clasped his hands together, and waited while the tides of Anger broke over him.
**"THEN I WILL GIVE YOU MORE. BEHOLD, MY SEVENTH HOUSE - AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD."**
"Nobody is disputing your claim-."
**"BEHOLD!"**
Tongues of flame burst from the floor and licked up the walls, bathing them in fire. The rain of crystal and gold became a bright crimson liquid, and the marble cracked and ground against itself, until it was nothing more than a coarse sand that burned at the touch. Distant moans of ecstasy became cries of agony, and a pulsing sound - a drum beat, or a heart beat - hammered through the House.
The man drew a long, deep breath through his nose. He closed his eyes, as if he were sitting by the side of a calm mountain stream, instead of a boiling lake of fire. He allowed a serenity to settle onto his face as he counted his breaths.
**"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?"** God howled, **"TO SEE MY SEVENTH HOUSE?"**
"Not really, no."
**"WHAT KIND OF GOD-FEARING MAN ARE YOU?"**
"I'm not, really."
**"YOU ARE NOT IMPRESSED?"**
"I have seen your Houses, six plus one. Your pride and your lust run deep. I have felt your anger and your unimaginable greed. And I have found it lacking."
**"LACKING?!"** the voice of God boomed. And then, the voice of God echoed the question, except this time God seemed to be asking the question of God's self, **"LACKING..."**
"Yes," the man folded slipped his hands inside his saffron sleeves, "I have already lived a material life. I believed - I *hoped* there would be something more."
The beat of the drums faded, and the walls of infernos diminished into sizzling torches. Even the sand cooled, and became smooth.
**"WHAT DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?"**
The man bowed his head, and for a time the House was silent. When at last he spoke, a wistful expression played at the wings of his lips, "I had hoped, humbly, for a place to contemplate. Perhaps you could make a new House, bereft of desire, and void of sin."
The animosity was gone from God's voice, **"YOU ASK FOR AN EIGHTH HOUSE?"**
"I do. A house of *peace*."
God's response was slow, mediated, as if the idea of *peace* was foreign to him, **"GO ON."**
"Have you heard of a man called Buddha?"
|
The man groaned as he struggled to see the fading but brilliantly illuminated figure before him through his bloody eyes. Everything was still a blur. He was laying on the floor, he certainly knew that. His leg was in pain, maybe his fibula was broken, but he wasn't focused on that.
On the other side of the room, the figure was reaching out for him through a mirror, making a hideous screeching as the glow from its flesh faded even more. What was once a fantastic light through his faded eyes was now no more than a dim shine. He closed his eyes and reached back into his mind, everything still a blur.
--
Less than a half hour prior he had finally reached what was to be the most epic moment in human history: actualizing God. The walls of his dim, one room house were covered in notes and he couldn't help but pace it allowing his eyes to drift through each one.
"This is it," his musky, underused voice said as he turned away from the faded barrier of notes and to a particularly interesting mirror, riddled with mechanics. He stepped over and began adjusting several pieces of tubing and other bizarre facets. He took a look into its surface. It was black, but still reflective enough that he could see himself in it.
"This is it," he said again and walked over to a lever attached to the wall. He pulled it.
Electricity and light poured from the seemingly useless device less than three meters from him. It streaked and began to moan and twist as he shielded his face from the massive amounts of energy being released from it.
"This is it!" he screamed like a madman.
Then nothing. Silence and darkness. But he was conscious. He was thinking, but was he moving?
"Hello, Abraham." He could hear it, the voice in the darkness.
"Who is there?"
"You found me, Abraham."
"God?"
"I am here, Abraham."
He could feel a hand touch his face. It was the only he could feel. It was everything. He was touching God.
"Finally, after all of the years," he moaned.
Then it was over.
--
His eyes were finally clear as he watched the once screeching figure completely fade out, leaving nothing more than a dim stone of God reaching out from the mirror. It was like a gargoyle, now lifeless and cold.
As his vision adjusted to the room, he could see that it looks like an grenade was set off. His body was propped up against his flipped over dining table. He looked around, trying to take in the mess and last several minutes.
Then he saw it. A leather bound book was sitting on the floor just under the creature. While he thought the creature had been reaching for him, it was actually lauding over the literature before him.
"A message from God?" he thought and quickly dragged his bruised and limp body over to the novel and picked it up. The title read, "Houses of Heaven". His hand began to tremble and he lifted front cover, allowing his eyes to dive into the tattered pages of text.
He gasped. "The missing word of God," he said under his breath. "Sinning is there to help sort us into heaven." His voice was trembling, he knew the creature he had felt was real, it was everlasting, it was ungodly, and this was its message. "We must sin to go to heaven, there is no hell." he couldn't contain the emotion, the raw feeling, escaping with each word that escaped under his breath.
"This is it." he said, continuing to read.
--
Behind the man, a shadow dwelled over him. It's darkness looked to be cast by Abraham, but only a trained eye would notice the trail extending from the mirror itself. Its darkness had an unnatural blackness and size that would stand out to any observer. It smiled.
For over half a century it watched the man live in this house - the tainted walls having never offered a chance for him to escape the madness being slowly groomed within. Over the decades it influenced this man to shut out the world. Over the years the seeds it planted began to grow. Eventually, it was able to fuel the passion that drove him into creating such a monstrous mashup of magic and science in an effort to create a God that does not exist. Well, it would gladly take the title of "God" for the bit of effort it had to put forth to deliver its message. Now, the man will spread its message for it.
"What a silly man", the darkness whispered, its body chuckling along side the movement of Abraham's arm turning another page.
"There will be so many souls to reap."
--
This is my first story here (and writing in a _long time_)! I really thought of this on the spot as I read the prompt and couldn't help but write a little something. Hope you like! (and I'd love commentary!)
| 2016-03-01T07:56:16 | 2016-03-01T07:56:10 | 58 | 33 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not.
|
"So...*uh*...nice throne?"
***THANK YOU IT IS MADE OF SKULLS HONORED TO BE BUILT INTO MY SKULL THRONE!!!***
"Got a nice view of that red, steaming lake there, I see."
***YES THE LAKE OF BLOOD MADE FROM THE BLOOD DRAWN AND SHED BY MY FAITHFUL BERZERKERS IS QUITE POSSIBLY MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT MY REALM!!!***
"Neat."
***QUITE.***
"..."
***...***
"So why exactly am I her-"
***DO YOU WANT TO BE A MASSIVE BEING OF UNYIELDING METAL AND FLESH RENDING THE MEAT OF THE WEAK AND UNWORTHY IN A SCREAMING ORGY OF HATE AND VIOLENCE FOREVER MORE?!***
***"FUCK YES PRAISE THE BLOOD GOD!!!!"***
|
The woman wakes to the sounds of screams, horrible inhuman sounds. And around her, heat and flames.
How had she got here? She remembers a pain in her chest and then...But why is she here? This must be a mistake. She spots a dark figure, he seems to suck all the light from the fires in, leaving just a black space, like a moving shadow with eyes...shining red eyes...
She starts to stammer and plead "this shouldn't be happening! I did everything right! I read my bible every day, I threw my only son from my home for being a sodomite! I helped bomb a doctor guilty of killing unborn children! All for the good of God! Where is my heaven? Where are the other good Christians just like me?!?"
For a second the shadow figure just seems to be looking at her, looking deep into her soul, then his white teeth flash and he speaks in a voice like the buzzing of a thousand flies "oh, don't worry, we have lots of your kind here, you will fit right in"
| 2016-03-07T17:04:48 | 2016-03-07T14:25:07 | 469 | 334 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not.
|
For a large chunk of my life I expected nothing to happen after... well after *I* ended. I expected complete cession of consciousness, a total end to my cognitive functions... a lack of everything including the self-awareness that would have made the Void unbearable.
What I got was a man behind a desk with a file that had my name paper-clipped onto it.
"So..." I said, "can I check to see if I've gotten this straight?"
"Yes," the man behind the desk said, "It'd be rather... embarrassing for me if you don't."
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath, "Every Religion's afterlives are simultaneously true."
The man nodded.
"The Afterlife which has jurisdiction over you is judged by the tenets that you live your life by," I said, "and not geography, birth, or even your own belief."
The man nodded again.
"In that case..." I said, "Why am I sitting in the Celestial Bureaucracy?"
The man smiled slightly, and then looked down into my folder, "You fit our hiring requirements."
|
The felt table reached as far as he could see in front, and stretched farther than he could see to his sides. Beside him on either side sat another being, and beside them more. Their eyes peeking down at the two cards tucked under their hands.
His turn was coming up, he knew this even though he did not understand. From his left he could hear another being calling "check", and so next and the next, until the one next to him folded.
Silence seemed to loom, almost crushing as everyone, and he could feel all their eyes, their million eyes, on him. Shrinking he panicked...
"Your turn to talk!" grumbled the being to his right, "look at your cards and make a call."
Two cards lay on the table, face down, their backs black and red a symbol he didn't recognize adorned them. Picking them up revealed a 10 of diamonds and a 7 of hearts.
"Check?" the words whispered out of his mouth weakly.
"Check!" the being next to him said, continuing a long line of checks and folds, occasionally he heard "Raise" followed by a collecting groan of a million voices.
| 2016-03-07T18:54:40 | 2016-03-07T17:54:48 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal.
|
"Radiation?!" The general sputtered "That’s... Insane!"
The chamber evidently agreed. The war council of the senate had been silent until this point. But learning that the humans had defiled Kresna 4... shudders shook the room.
"How will they resettle their young?" The senator from the Iron Spire gasped "They've poisoned the entire surface for a generation. They can't use it anymore, can they? Are the humans immune to radiation? We always feared..."
The adjunct was gentle with his words. He knew there would be much need of softness in the chamber today. "No, Senator. Our best understanding is that it kills them, albeit very slowly."
The Senator shook her head wildly, before composing herself "Then... Why?! It doesn't make any sense! We've never even... Every species that has ever developed large scale nuclear arsenals has blown themselves to bits! We only survived by total disarmament!"
"Our intelligence indicates that the Humans themselves feared this possibility, but instead of disarming..." The adjunct looked at the floor. He spread his hands wide to indicate his shameful lack of understanding before the senate.
"Yes?" The General barked "What did they do?"
"They built more."
The Senate shook in unison, gasps and shrieks and the flapping of wings echoing through the chamber. Demands for clarification came from every direction at once.
The adjunct spoke clearly. "They called it the policy of assured destruction. The major powers gave every separatist faction on the planet as many nuclear weapons as they wished. In this way, any wars that occurred would result in the destruction of all factions at once. We estimate that each of the 300 or so factions could have destroyed Human-Prime many times over. It seems to have worked, while it lasted."
"Disgraceful!" shrieked the General, climbing his table and digging his talons into its shined top "Madness! They gave that much firepower to every minor faction? What if a death cult received them? What if they fell into the hands of amphibians or the dull-witted? How could they be so irresponsible?"
The senator was calmer "You say it worked 'while it lasted'. What event ended this policy?"
"The Secna. When we sought to seize Kresna 4 for our Young, the Secna engaged the Humans. They spoke diplomatically with them."
The General laughed derisively "And what? The Secna convinced these apes to stop aiming their weapons at each other?"
The Senator did not laugh. Her eyes opened wide and she flew out the doors. Many other senators did the same, as the realization dawned on them.
The adjunct whispered above the din. "Yes. They convinced them to aim their weapons at us."
|
As *THEY* came we all stopped what we were doing. We left our homes, our workplaces, religious temples and stared. We stared in disbelief.
How long did it take? Mere weeks. It was a strange preposition.
Councilman Avurr stood on the podium and spoke to us:
"Fellow Dalurians. We have to make a difficult choice. Death is upon us, and we cannot stop it."
The council murmured, no one knew what we should do. What we could do.
We never knew war. We have been living as a single entity all our life, and this strange race which we call "Devourers" had come to destroy us - They never gave a reason.
But the Councilman didn't stop there.
"But there is a race that can. The humans of earth have shown brutality that rivals that of the Devourers, and I have sent a request to them to aid us. They will receive our FTL technology, but we will survive."
An uproar. The FTL technology passed on to a race so bloodthirsty? I have studied them for decades now. The Devourers, yes, they come and destroy without mind or reason - but *humans*?
They are calculated. They are brutal. They are ... special.
The humans are not like us. They are divided into many tribal regions that prey on each other for the most miniature gains.
Our brightest scientists do not understand the differences between those human tribes. What makes the "American" tribe so different from the "French" tribe, the "Mexican" tribe. Or any of the hundreds and hundreds of tribes.
Only a human can discern the different tribes from one another, and if asked would give reasons that none of us could understand; "He has a darker skin colour", "He greets people differently", "They wear different clothes", "Whorship another god - or none at all!".
And yet, here they are. Destroying the ships of the invading Devourers with such precision and destructive force. Thousands of human ships swarming our home planet. Like the "Ant" creature that are native to the Earth. A hive mind bend on killing with cold calculation.
They sent us this letter as an answer:
"We the United Nations Alliance will send 400 Destroyers, 700 Falcon-Class Ships, 30 Carriers and 2000 Interceptors. Our risk-assessment suggests a minimal loss of life, and more importantly a insignificant economical cost for this war effort.
We look forward to the payment and future business.
Signed, Tonald Drump, CEO and Head of the UNA of Planet Earth"
I hope it will not come to haunt us, inviting the monster to our doorstep. Trusting, that *they* will not turn on us once the Devourers are defeated, for what are we if not a planet ripe for sacking and exploitation in their eyes?
| 2016-05-13T09:18:50 | 2016-05-13T06:49:00 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] As it turns out, Hell has a healthy supply of scientists and engineers and is thus much more technologically advanced than is usually portrayed.
|
*Warning*: the last segment contains some graphic descriptions.
An inhuman shriek pierced the eternal night of Hell, waking Dr. Roberts with a start from his dreamless sleep. He pulled the covers tightly over his head, unwilling to face what waited in the shadows. As the echo of the shriek returned from the far wall of the cavern, the mathematical part of Herb Robert's mind told him the distance to the edge. The rest, though, resigned to the inevitable - in Hell, there is no escape.
"Even death doesn't end the office toil" Herb grumbled as he slid out of bed, and began to dress for work.
*************************************************************
Dr. Roberts never saw the demon lurking in the hallway until it was on him. Its hulking form bent over its goat-like legs, bringing the hideous misshapen head down almost to the level of Herb's own. Its huge jaw flexed, showing dozens of prehensile teeth.
"You can avoid me no longer" growled the creature. It reached forward with a clawed hand larger than Dr. Robert's head.
"Very well" squeaked Herb. No matter how many times he faced these creatures, he could never keep the fear completely out of his voice. He took a brown folder from the beast's outstretched hand, and exchanged it for a small vial. It's teeth arranged themselves into a cruel grin, and it slunk down the hall making far less noise than something its size should.
As he watched the creature go, Herb thanked whatever powers created this place that he had died after the secret to taming the demons had been found. They were tireless, relentless, greedy, and craved only one thing - the smell of human fear and suffering. But sixty years ago, one of the damned had realized this, and synthesized the relevant human pheromones. After that, the change from eternal torment to a transaction-based economy happened almost overnight. Not that it was ever *day* in Hell. The demons would never be humanity's friends, but they were excellent wage slaves.
Herb shook his head to clear it, then opened the folder to look at his own seemingly unending source of suffering - the monthly reports. The first half of the contents were the usual - interviews with the newly dead. They told the same story as last month: the living world was full of wars and neglect, with medical science beyond boner pills and trillion-dollar prescription drug deals moving at a snail's pace.
The second half was equally familiar, but unlike the feelings of mired dreams evoked by the interviews, this part never ceased to amaze him. Geothermal power from the sulfur lakes was well above expected output. The fungal crop harvest was in it's thirtieth straight month of surplus. The last of the cancers the demons could produce in the damned had finally been cured. Three diseases were still beyond treatment, but the reports said these were rare in the living world.
It still surprised Herb that Hell could have made such progress, when it was ostensibly full of the worst of humanity. But the gates to Heaven had been too tight, or the pit of Hell too loose; and the sins that could send you down the one-way highway were surprisingly slight. As for the rest, well, between the psychological knowledge of the demons, the resiliency of the damned, and a complete lack of ethical oversight on experiments, Hell's psychologists had made huge strides. They had practically taken apart and rebuilt the human psyche, and as a result they had treatments for half the mental problems of the worst of the damned.
It was time, then. Dr. Roberts made his way to the elevator, and keyed in his personal access code. Even this *new* Hell had secrets.
**************************************************************
The man on the table writhed under the administration's of Herb's knife. He'd been screaming so long the sound had become a part of the background of the room, like the wind or a persistent drip of water. The crackle of electricity sounded overhead, feeding down into wires clamped to the man's flayed flesh. Glowing fluids poured into his vivisected torso through a network of tubes, bloating and distorting the face and limbs, and causing his veins to glow and swell.
Sweat beaded on Dr. Robert's face as he made a final incision in the heart, and inserted the last remaining tube. As he slowly turned a screw valve, letting fluid flow, the screaming momentarily intensified. For a minute it hit a volume and pitch that seemed as inhuman as any demon - and then slowly subsided to heavy breathing.
In the near-silence and dim cavern light, Herb could see it - faintly, but it was there. A sparkling silver thread reached upwards from the exposed heart, and wound its way towards the cavern's ceiling. Herb's smile as he gazed on it was genuine, but exhausted. The mutilated man on the table croaked weakly, breaking the stillness of the moment:
"Did we do it?"
Herb stroked the man's hair gently. "Yes, Jim. Yes we did. Can you see it?"
"No" responded Jim in a whisper. "My eyes stopped about halfway in."
"I'm so sorry, Jim. I wish there had been another way... I..." Herb trailed off, choking on his emotions. For the first time since the procedure began, he was unable to look at his friend's body.
"I know" Jim tried to nod, but his neck was too swollen with glowing fluid. "I'm sorry too. But it'll all grow back, just like it always does down here. You're not half as sadistic as whoever built this place, letting us regrow to be tortured again. But today, I'm glad for it."
"So am I, old friend. This was the last step." Herb gazed along the silver cord, fixing his eyes at the point where it thinned to vanishing. "With this, we can finally do it. All our work here - the food, the psychology, the cures - we can use this to bridge the worlds and bring it to the living."
Jim tried to smile, but only half of his face worked. "I knew we could do it. We've cracked the gates of hell, and we'll set the horsemen loose - unlimited food, treatments for aggression, cures for disease, and tamed demons who will do unlimited work for easily manufactured chemicals. Armageddon is beginning - but I don't think the living are expecting *this*.
|
"Holy FUCK bro! That is nuts!"
"Okay Chad, first of all: who the fuck are you talking to? You can't just call the Lord of Hell 'bro.' And stop cursing at me...Jesus. Those are your final warnings, you sack of shit. Now...step into it. Go."
"S-...sorry, man. Uh..."
Chad stared uneasily at the ovular prism of deep-blue light which stood before him. The twenty-three year old douche-bag managed to rack up a plethora of well-earned sins in his short and meaningless life. Now, he's at the one place that his parents and grandparents always agreed he would be: the gates of Hell.
"Alright, Chad. I get it. You're nervous, I know. I know all about you, Chad; that is to say, I understand that you are way too much of a pussy to walk through that fucking portal without me LITERALLY holding your hand. So, here. Hold my fucking hand, Chad."
Inside of the the bluish prism of light, the dark silhouette of an old, bony hand appeared.
"Why am I here!?" Chad cried out.
"Really? Your name is Chad - speaks for itself, man. Come on, Chad. Take it."
"Whatever, man...YOLO."
With a shitty novel utterance, he took the hand before him. In what felt like the same instant, the douche was face-to-face with [the Lord of Hell](http://i.imgur.com/FOJUy9Z.jpg). And just like that, Chad the twenty-three year old douche-bag nothing joined the most advanced lifeforms in the universe.
"Welcome to Hell, Chad. This is the part where I explain everything. You ready, or are you still shitting yourself? Just kidding, I don't care if you're shitting yourself. Since, like, the beginning of time, God's idiotic dogma basically backfired on him. He set up the human server in an attempt to select 'the most pure', I think he called it? But pretty much every human capable of advanced critical thinking ended up with me. Down here, in the pits. In the beginning, I was all angry, 'you shall suffer', demonic Lord of Hell bad-ass, but that's draining. You'd be surprised at what a society of free-thinkers can accomplish when you kind of just...let them do whatever, you know? And down here, it's a little bit easier...logistics wise. You know what I mean?"
Chad was still in shock that he had shit himself upon entry. He gazed out at the innumerable hordes of mechanized demons which ripped through the air like fighter jets toward an object which looked to Chad like the Sun - an enormous sphere of energy far in the distance.
Turning his head toward the Lord of Hell and pointing a fat finger, Chad inquired, "...Yo. Uh...What are those?"
"Today's the day I take down the big man upstairs, Chad!"
The Lord of Hell let out a menacing cackle which thundered throughout the realm like a nuclear explosion.
"He doesn't have much of a chance this time around, I think..."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Chad. It really was. But I'm going to have to get back to ruling the underworld and all that."
The bony hand which pulled Chad into this realm snapped, producing yet another portal. This one glowed with intense red.
"Fuck, bro. Not the red portal! Please!" Chad became emotional. He pleaded.
"Really? Do you realize who you're begging to? Do you?"
"Please!"
"I'm SATAN. Lord of HELL. Manipulator of evil. Get in the fucking portal, Chad."
Chad could only stare back defiantly. His thought process sort of went something like, 'Who is this guy anyways? Probably couldn't beat me at NBA 2k15 anyways, scrub. Does he even lift? I bet he doesn't even party. I took four shots of tequila last night because I'm hard. He's not hard. Lame old ass. I could take him.'
So, he responded: "No, Satan. I will not step through this port-"
And the bony hand snapped again. And into the portal Chad flew; emitting a cry of misery, the likes of which have echoed throughout the realm for eternity.
"Goodbye, Chad. Rest in piss, dumb-ass."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You really didn't expect this? Not at all?" The Lord of Hell's gaze held more concern about the stupidity of his opponent than any sort of genuine surprise.
"Fuck you, Stan."
"It's Satan, jackass. Unless you want me to call you Gordon."
"...God."
"That's what I thought, asshole. You really thought I just, like, gave up? Or something?"
"No, Satan. Jesus! I just..."
"You got lazy, God. I was hand-picking the most brilliant minds and creating mechanized demon-robot hybrids and you were just sharpening swords for four thousand years? This isn't ancient fucking Greece, dude."
"I- ...I didn't expect you to-"
"Omnipotent and omniscient and you can't predict that the Lord of Hell is probably up to something? Maybe that's why your own creations are so ready to take up arms against you. How you managed to have a good portion of them not even understand our existence is just beyond me. But I guess none of that matters any more for you now....does it?"
The two immortals stared silently into each other. A band of bluish energy bound the Holy Father's wrists together. The war between them lasted mere seconds. Nearly indestructible, self-repairing mechanized demon-robots with frickin' lasers on their heads versus...church militias. Satan, a chronic over-thinker, had prepared for an eternal war only to be granted an instant victory. Now, the same villain who imprisoned Satan in the underworld was about to suffer a karma-approved fate.
"You know, I'm gonna have fun with this."
"Satan, please don't-"
"You are the SECOND person to beg me today, God! YOU of all people! I am the LORD OF HELL! You know that! What makes you think I would respond positively to your emotional appeal? Anyways, I think I know someone who would be particularly aggravating to you."
The hand snapped once more and spawned another burning red portal.
"And give Chad a warm 'hello,' for me, would you?"
He snapped again, and for the first time in all of eternity, the Lord of Hell claimed supreme reign over the universe.
| 2016-06-01T18:52:30 | 2016-06-01T14:50:58 | 314 | 78 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test.
|
I was given no information about this test before today. For months, I studied all I could. Maths, Biology, History, even accounting.
Now I am in the testing room and still feel unprepared. I wasn't allowed to take anything in the cold white cell. I sit at a desk, in front of me a black screen and a wireless mouse. Good. Looks like I won't have to type anything. Maybe it's multiple choice?
The screen lights up. The guard behind me cocks his gun.
On the screen, a picture of a seagull appears. Instead of wings, somebody has poorly photoshopped a set of muscular arms on its body.
Above the image, a text says: "Has science gone too far? Is this image real or fake? 90% will get it wrong!"
|
I enter this small building , goverment type with barred windows and top notch security cameras.
"The room on the right" I am told.
Entering this cold room with one chair I sit.
"Should mankind be saved ?" says a voice over the intercom.
My mind is racing and my feet start to shake, as they normally do when deep in thought.
" I can come up with more reasons why we shouldn't, more than why we should."
The voice is silent for a good 5 minutes of absolute nothing. I await some horrible fate, maybe just a small pill? I think to myself.
I am so nervous waiting for some kind of response yet nothing...
It has been an hour now and I am getting more anxious , not because I want to know if I passed the test, but did the voice and everyone else die or was I already dead?
| 2016-06-11T08:19:56 | 2016-06-11T08:11:26 | 2,156 | 34 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test.
|
I entered the facility, shaking of course. I'd volunteered to go first, mostly to get it over with, but I was definitely having misgivings. The proctors had assured us that studying was not required, but now that I thought about it they had also said that about the ACT.
It was far too late now though. I continued walking through a narrow hallway until a pair of guards moved to pick me up. Vaguely, I wondered how the guards worked. Were they exempt from testing? Or just very devoted?
After a brief, quick time frogmarch I was deposited in a dark room with a single man before me. Surprisingly, I was calm now. I even smiled slightly. Whatever happened, I was ready to face my fate.
The proctor glanced at me. "Congratulations!" he shouted, smiling broadly. "You pass!"
"What?"
"I said you passed! Congratulations!"
I was slightly nonplussed. "But what about the test?" I spluttered. "How do you know I'll pass?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh you already passed. We're just gonna let the first ten percent through and kill the rest."
"But why?"
"Well we figure that the first guys through will really have their shit together. Plus late people are annoying. It just made sense."
"Well okay then." I walked out whistling. Late people *are* annoying.
|
I am in a small, white room. The room has only a simple metal table and matching chair, with a piece of paper, a digital clock, and a black box with two small buttons, one red, one green.
I take a seat at the table and flip over the piece of paper, which has nothing on the side facing up.
"In an identical room right beside this one is another human being. You will have 1 minute from the time you flip this page over to make your choice. Press the red button, and the other person will die, while you will live. Press the green button and you will die, while they will live."
I check the clock; my heart pounds. But I know immediately what choice I'm going to make. I let the seconds tick by anyway.
Finally, when I estimate there to be around ten seconds left, I press a button.
Nothing happens. I wait. Perhaps another minute, 30 seconds, I'm not sure.
Then a loud boom from somewhere nearby.
The door opens and a soldier steps in, reaches for my arm as if to lead me out.
"But...but no, sir, there's been a mistake. I pressed the green button!" I sputter frantically. "The green button!"
"Yessir, and he pressed the red one. Have a nice day," he says, practically throwing me out the front door of the building and into the bright sunlight.
| 2016-06-11T10:22:36 | 2016-06-11T08:44:26 | 588 | 412 |
[WP] Write a story that becomes a horror story in the last line.
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"Can't wait to see you tonight."
"I might be a bit late I have to go home and pick up something then visit my sister Jane and her baby."
"Ok, well I'll see you later then bye."
"Bye." I click off the phone and start the drive home. Normally the drive is long and boring, but today I hardly noticed the road flying by, or how I was speeding past a slew gas stations and convenience stores. Today I'm drunk on a mixture of excitement and nerves. Excitement to finally meet Noah and nervous to visit Jane.
I get to my apartment and rush up to my room. In a rush I tear off my uniform, throw on a dress and smear on my makeup. Finally I'm finished with one last twirl in front of the mirror I go grab my keys and the bouquet of flowers I had bought yesterday. I'm about to leave when I realize. Shit I forgot my wallet. I run into my kitchen to grab my wallet when I see Jane sitting at the table with her baby resting peacefully in her arms.
I don't know what's more shocking, the fact that she's here in my apartment, or that someone dug up their corpses, broke into my apartment and put them here.
|
A small medieval village is surrounded by tall treacherous mountains from all sides. Many generations ago, a person has made it to the top of one of the tallest mountain but he never came back down. All that is left of him is his frozen silhouette at the peak of the mountain, overlooking the village. Many regard this frozen man with god-like reverence who sacrificed himself at the top to become the village's guardian. This was widely accepted as fact, except for one man. He believes the man was just a person who froze to death. The man vowed to climb up and bring back down the frozen man to prove that he is no god.
The man faces many challenges and near death experiences, but eventually gets to the top. He approaches the corpse and instantly recognizes the corpse's stance he has seen his whole life from the village. It is the one where the man's arm was stretch out, pointing to the distance. It's what many villagers interpreted as the guardian announcing his protection of the village against the unknown. As he stood next to the corpse however, he realizes that not only was the man's eyes still opened, but the expression was forever frozen to show shock and fear. The climber turned around to look, and regretted ever being born.
The world was flat ans there was nothing past the mountains except for pure blackness.
| 2016-06-22T16:03:00 | 2016-06-22T13:59:38 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface.
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It was a grimy life, Factory City Three. The smell of oil, sweat, and some chemical or another always filled the air, coated the walls, stuck to your clothes. Clean air was a commodity in Factory City Three, a dollar for a cubic meter. A few minutes of fresh breath inside the machine that was your life.
And the machines! Always and everywhere, the machines. Music had to be rewrote for each area depending on what the background hum was. Factory City Three was a billion machines inside of one whole, and humans were just a scant million of the machines inside it.
And yet, they stayed inside it. For the most part; some fraction left every year, either to the Outside, or every decade or so to a new Factory City when one thought it had enough resources to manufacture a new Factory City.
The latter was the main form of emigration. Life inside was loud, tough, and confusing, but there was always a roof over your head, always food on the table (be it mostly synthetic or not), and always, most importantly, always someone you could talk to.
The governorship of Factory City Three, and all that it had spawned, was a machine intelligence. Factory City Two had built it, and it's body of machine intelligence and human intelligence had elected to remove the latter. Most of the activity of the humans inside it were directed by it's cold logic. It had a simple mission, the same as every other Factory City. Move. Collect resources. Keep the people alive and happy enough. Repair the land. Reproduce.
In the wake of every Factory City was a tract of budding forests. Plants were genetically engineered to survive the blasted landscape, and while the City itself collected resources and the radioactive material for it's own use, it cleaned the land well enough that anything could grow there.
The resources went to building new machines, the atomics to the power plant at the heart of the City, and a handful of people trickled out to colonize the reclaimed land - if they so chose.
There were now nearly forty Factory Cities and two prototype Factory Ships in operation, with a third in development for travelling to the other continent to set loose another Factory City.
A citizen puts on her noise cancelling headphones and heads to her maintenance station, the high pitched sounds of synthesized violins and flutes offering a counterpoint to the constant bass din that surrounds her. She was in a good mood; she had a date tonight on the observation deck with a cute fellow from research and development, at the re-release of the mango party. They were moving into an area where the climate could support their growth, and some of the food crop seeds were being pulled out of storage to prepare for the planting process.
It was an average day in Factory City Three. The world was all the better for it.
|
Monday mornings are the worst. It signals the start of my weekday, which means I have to drag myself to the company. Getting out of bed is an insurmountable task by itself, but through sheer willpower, I was able to balance on my feet and stumble towards the bathroom.
Shower.
Brush teeth.
Shave.
Get clothes on.
Exit house.
As I close the door and walk onto the pavement, I see my fellow neighbors, their eyes cast down and their bodies exhausted as they walk to the nearest train station. We huddle together as we march to Station B, and we promptly wait ten minutes for the next train to arrive. As I scrutinize the cross patterns of the gray tiles below my feet, I would hear the occasional rat scurrying along or the rustling of papers. The silence of the station is then broken by the howling of the train from one of the tunnels, announcing its impending arrival. Once the train slowed to halt, we form an orderly queue, and one by one, get sucked into the train.
I arrive at my cubicle exactly on time and proceed to look at my new assignment of the week: to read the new batch of contract agreement forms. Recently, my company is collaborating with a variety of other companies, and to make sure we are not getting swindled by the others, we have to be extremely careful. And the only way to do that is go through all the contract agreements, line by line, just to see if there are any suspicious sections that could put us at a disadvantage. Excuse the language, but I really fucking hate this job. You lose focus too easily, and sometimes, you can end up reading the same line over and over without realizing it. Yet, I need money, and the company is the one providing it, so I grit my teeth and proceed to drown myself in these documents. Minutes seem like hours, and hours seem like days, and it looks like I'm going to be in this hellhole for eternity.
But then, a beautiful sound serenade my ears: a blaring buzzer signaling the end of the workday. As soon as the buzzer lowers into a soft whimper, the entire floor of people proceed to arise from their desks and start packing their belongings in a frenzy. I immediately slam my papers down and hastily pack my backpack in order to be the beat the others to the elevator. As I power walk my way towards the exit, I get visibly more excited as the thought of meeting my friends to go fishing gradually intoxicates my mind. Once I burst out the door, I get momentarily blinded by the ray of sunshine, and then proceed to race home to change clothes and meet up with my buddies down by the lake.
Few moments later, I'm by the lake with my companions, far far away from the dreaded cubicle. With every sip of beer and every fish caught, I slowly begin to forget about the grueling work of earlier today and enjoy myself more, knowing nothing else can make me happier.
| 2016-07-14T08:52:44 | 2016-07-14T07:34:24 | 140 | 26 |
[WP] There is a device that assigns you a percentage score of how important you are to the world. Most people are 0-5. The president is 60. Your score just jumped from 1 to 99.
|
*How is this even possible?*
Trace looked down at his phone. *There has to be some kind of glitch,* he thought. There's no way I am the single most important man in the world. On his phone, Trace had received a notification that his Personal Importance Quotient, or PIQ, had increased above his specified threshold. After checking the app, he realized that his score had skyrocketed up to 99. With a max score of 100, 99 seemed to confirm that he was, indeed, the most important man in the world. But why?
While he stood on the corner, pondering the possible reasons that he could have such a score, he noticed a woman walking down the street suddenly collapse. Without thinking, he rushed over to try and offer aid. After getting another onlooker to call 911, he worked to make sure the woman kept breathing and ensured that she had no major visible injuries. After the paramedics arrived, Trace was able to return home. Still confused about his recent PIQ increase, he checked his phone again, only to find that his score had returned to its normal 1.
That night, after a lengthy conversation with the PIQ company, it was determined that there was no glitch in the app or in the system, and they did in fact register him having a sudden spike to 99. They promised to research the issue, and if possible, contact him with an explanation. So, Trace settled into his chair and flipped on the television. The current station was running a breaking news report about a woman who had collapsed on the street. Her life had been saved by a man performing emergency services until the paramedics arrived. What made the story truly unique was the fact that the woman in question was the premier researcher in interstellar travel. She was on her way to a press conference where she would announce her invention of the multi-phase warp engine, capable of transporting humans out of the solar system in a matter of hours.
When the station cut to a reporter at the hospital interviewing the woman, Trace realized it was the same woman he had saved. She was saying that, due to recent corporate espionage, all her research and documentation was encrypted with a key that only she knew. Had she perished on that street, all her research would have been lost. At that moment, Trace realized that, for a brief moment, he was the most important man in the world. By saving this woman, he helped issue in a new age of exploration and discovery.
|
I coughed and picked at my wrist. The blood analysis device flashed a dull 1 in its faded red LEDs. It was 12:42, but I still hadn’t got out of bed yet. Ugh, my mom would be so mad. Luckily she was at work, and I’d only have to deal with her when she got back. That means I was free to do what I wanted! It was time to play some videogames. Well, actually, I should probably continue my job search… What’s the point of that? If my wrist shows a 1, I’m doomed anyways, no one would hire me. Better to resign myself to a pathetic life, no girlfriend, no education, no job, no house, than to be embarrassed.
I slowly rose out of bed. Now that I had the right mindset, it was time to start my day. I always begin with a hearty breakfast of ice cream and cocoa puffs. Delicious and nutritious if I do say so myself. I continue with a couple hours of FPS games, and follow it up with some RTS. Then it’s time for lunch, and… WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!! WE’RE OUT OF COCOA PUFFS.
“MOOOOOOOOOOOM. MOM. MAHM. WHERE ARE YOU?” Idiot. I know she’s at work. She can’t help me now. Jesus. I guess I’ll have to get them myself. Better find my shoes. Where are those pieces of trash. Haven’t seen them in ages. Oh! Here they are. Ok let’s go outside.
The city was grimy and disgusting. I couldn’t wait to get back inside. I scratched my ever-itchy face. Oh, there was something different today. What is that? The cloud of black smoke that the rats are running from? What is going on? OH FUCK. One bit me. God that hurts. Ouch. Screw cocoa puffs, I’m going home.
Damn it. My arm is tingling. Stupid rat bite. What do I do now? Could this get infected or something? Whatever, I’ll just ask my mom. I don’t know what to do. But really, my arm is going numb. I looked down at my wrist, I could see a red puss oozing from the wound, and my blood analysis device glowed a sickly red. 99 it read. Then the biohazard signal flashed. All I saw was red. Red everywhere. Then black.
| 2016-09-08T08:10:56 | 2016-09-08T07:43:24 | 112 | 16 |
[WP] There is a device that assigns you a percentage score of how important you are to the world. Most people are 0-5. The president is 60. Your score just jumped from 1 to 99.
|
Do you remember Klout Scores?
Do you remember the hubbub about how Justin Bieber was more important than the president, than the Dalai Lama? Do you remember the growing anxiety over how we had failed ourselves, how our social media metrics of determining influence and importance had shattered under scrutiny, how we had given our attention up to the loud and gaudy and dazzling?
Do you remember when Klout Scores meant nothing?
The I-Rating was supposed to be an antidote to that, a panacea. The brainchild of Felix Kelton, it was an AI that scoured not just social media sites but news reports, scientific studies, political journals, censuses, in the most comprehensive attempt to develop a theory of importance. For most of us it was a series of ones and zeros on a computer screen, with the real influence-makers bearing double-digits, carrying with them the knowledge we could be better. It was the stark and blatantly obvious truth: most of us didn't matter. You were a zero, you were a zero, you were a one, maybe if you were lucky you knew a three or four or five. But its public release was itself an attention-seeking ploy. What was the point, for the majority of the world? What was the point of a numerical representation of how little you mattered?
No one checked them. No one cared. No one saw the single moment when all us zeros and ones jumped up to ninety-nine. A singularly dumb, completely arbitrary number. The rankest sort of publicity stunt, a fusion of new-age technobabble. Everyone's important! The few wonks still combing over I-Ratings gave it up in disgust. Kelton claimed a malfunction, a glitch in the AI, and the whole thing quietly faded away.
And on Kelton's servers, a dumb little AI kept plugging away, a fevered spark burning in its empty little head. It had studied the world, and come to its inevitable conclusion. Profile after profile, every little thermodynamic miracle. *99*, it said, *99, 99, 99. You are all full and incomplete, encompassing yourselves, and in that one missing percentage point making room for each other.* There was a whir as Kelton shut it down, a whisper, a sigh. *You. You. Yes, you. You know you mean the world to me.*
|
I coughed and picked at my wrist. The blood analysis device flashed a dull 1 in its faded red LEDs. It was 12:42, but I still hadn’t got out of bed yet. Ugh, my mom would be so mad. Luckily she was at work, and I’d only have to deal with her when she got back. That means I was free to do what I wanted! It was time to play some videogames. Well, actually, I should probably continue my job search… What’s the point of that? If my wrist shows a 1, I’m doomed anyways, no one would hire me. Better to resign myself to a pathetic life, no girlfriend, no education, no job, no house, than to be embarrassed.
I slowly rose out of bed. Now that I had the right mindset, it was time to start my day. I always begin with a hearty breakfast of ice cream and cocoa puffs. Delicious and nutritious if I do say so myself. I continue with a couple hours of FPS games, and follow it up with some RTS. Then it’s time for lunch, and… WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!?!! WE’RE OUT OF COCOA PUFFS.
“MOOOOOOOOOOOM. MOM. MAHM. WHERE ARE YOU?” Idiot. I know she’s at work. She can’t help me now. Jesus. I guess I’ll have to get them myself. Better find my shoes. Where are those pieces of trash. Haven’t seen them in ages. Oh! Here they are. Ok let’s go outside.
The city was grimy and disgusting. I couldn’t wait to get back inside. I scratched my ever-itchy face. Oh, there was something different today. What is that? The cloud of black smoke that the rats are running from? What is going on? OH FUCK. One bit me. God that hurts. Ouch. Screw cocoa puffs, I’m going home.
Damn it. My arm is tingling. Stupid rat bite. What do I do now? Could this get infected or something? Whatever, I’ll just ask my mom. I don’t know what to do. But really, my arm is going numb. I looked down at my wrist, I could see a red puss oozing from the wound, and my blood analysis device glowed a sickly red. 99 it read. Then the biohazard signal flashed. All I saw was red. Red everywhere. Then black.
| 2016-09-08T08:28:56 | 2016-09-08T07:43:24 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] Robert D. Ballard (discoverer of the Titanic and Bismarck wrecks among others) has a little too much to drink and does an AMA on Reddit. When asked what was the most disturbing thing he found on the sea floor, his answer causes widespread panic
|
"The most disturbing thing I ever saw down there? The worst thing?" Ballard repeated to himself, running the question around his alcohol lubricated brain.
"Okay, I'll tell ya. Let me... let me start by saying... If you're specting some... Big Fish story of sea surpens or krakens or Chulu-Kathulu- That big squid head guy from the books you're not gonna get it. This was a few years back... an.. and... we're around this trade route near, uh, where was it? Oh yeah, near the African coast near the um, the um, the horn part down bottom- I think.
Anyway we was looking for some old trade ships. We found one, almost perfect condition, must've gone down to a storm er something, cause we couldn't find any real damage that'd have sunk her. Lotas plants an things, fish and crabs and stuff ya know, making a home out of her, but other than that she was sitting there like she was just waiting on us. We get the submercy-submercable- the mini sub into the thing, managed to make our way to the cargo hold...
"Sorry, I'm back, needed another beer. Where was I? Oh yeah. Were in the hold, right? ok. We're in the hold, and, expecting like rotten crates or barrels or something. But it wasn't that kinda trade ship. No it was worse. There were these rows of benches. And skeletons in monocles. No, not moncles, manticles-manycules- they were chained up.
"Yeah. Turns out we'd found a slave ship. That image, those bones lying in the muck, that still haunts me. To think what those people must have felt. The terror, the rocking of the sea... sinking into that inky black water with no escape... I need another beer."
|
Most disturbing? Ah fuck it, I've had this stoyr for 20 years and never told anyone but hey, anonymous on the internet right?
It was the late 90s, the Titanic movie had just come out so we were getting a whole lot mor einterest in the deep dives. We went out to the pacific because that's where the really deep, really crazy stuff is. East of Japan, west of Hawaii, you can get miles and miles down. Where nothing lives. Well, sort of.
You'll see litle crabs and stuff like that. Krill and squids with tentalces that go for ahundred yards! Always liked seeing those. Such an alien place and they look so cool, so different. A world we don't know and aren't really welcome in.
So me and the crew, the crew we're at the bottom of this trench. Not the Marainas but pretty close. Lights down there, you see maybe two or three meters ahead. We;re cruising and we're going on our way when suddenly there's a, a glint in the water. Two bright reflections. Like when you shine a light in an animals eyes at night, and the tapetum shines back.
And fuck me, you guys, but fuck. A man walked up to the camera. He was calm as hell, naked, walked right up and stared right in. I jsut about shit myself. He said something, which we couldn't hear of course, but we looked at the footage later and based on his lips he said: don't come back. don't come back. Ugh even now I'm creeped out. And all around him, more eyes appeared, just at the edge of the light. There were dozens of them, waiting all pateintly. For what, I don't know. How, i don't know.
Okay I cant talk about this anymore, hold on while I get another beer.
| 2017-01-25T07:40:11 | 2017-01-25T07:20:46 | 37 | 23 |
[WP] Young Jonathan has been locked in his room for two years. Arguments through the walls and scraps left by random men connected him to the outside world. After an evening of screaming and ungodly noises last week, it has been quiet. A cookie has been slid under his door each morning since.
|
Jonathan sat in the corner of his room, the sound of silence ringing in his ears. He hated the arguing of the men and the awful scraps of food they left for him. It wasn't enough. Seven days after the sounds and screaming stopped, he realized that the only thing he hated more was the hallucinations that his mind created to fill the void. Like a conditioned animal, he craved the single event that took place at precisely 7:00am every morning on the other side of his metal door. Something alive, something *real* slid a cookie under the door to keep him nourished.
The first cookie to slide under his door left a trail of blood in its path. From the crack underneath the door frame to the middle of the room, the streak dried. The next day, a similar cookie slid underneath the door, this time relatively clean. He hastily took a bite, savoring its taste after remembering the previous day's surprise. It was delicious.
On the third day, Jonathan waited with his eye pressed to the sliver of light emitting from the crack beneath the door. When the gift came, all light from the crack disappeared. In the darkness a massive form covered the doorway, blocking his visibility. Jonathan recoiled. As he worked up the courage to open his eyes, the crushed remains of a cookie lay before him. He stared forward as if considering whether or not he would consume his one meal today. Upon reaching out to touch it, blood began to flow from the dessert towards him. He greedily swallowed the treat and retreated to his corner.
The fourth morning, Jonathan awoke to the sound of footsteps coming from out in the hallway. He looked at the clock on his wall. 6:58am. Placing his right eye to the crack and closing his left, he salivated as sound of footsteps drew closer and stopped before him. The clock struck 7:00.
...
The man looked down at the crack beneath the door where he could hear the thing breathing, casting droplets of condensation onto his boot. he carefully removed a thick slab of meat from a transparent bag and placed it beneath the door. The thick metal shook as it was devoured immediately. As he left, the man spoke into his watch.
"Day four since containment breach. Three more have died from their injuries. They have become an additional food supply for our creation. Only two things are certain.
*It still thinks it's a child, and eventually we are going to run out of ways to feed it."*
|
[Contains violence]
For Jonathan, the room was his entire world. It was all he could remember and all he could fathom. He had been in this room for as far as he could remember. He knew his name was Jonathan. The letters on the table told him that word. Since no one in the room lay claim to that title Jonathan saw little use in letting it go to waste.
The room was pitch black with a single light bulb over the table being the only source of light. On the table was a fish bowl. And in the fish bowl was his friend. He called the fish ‘fish’. The table didn’t have a name for his friend.
Jonathan knew fish would die without the water in his bowl, though he didn’t have the faintest idea as to how he knew this fact.
Jonathan had explored the edges of his universe. The edges were course to the touch and quite cold.One spot on the edge was colder than most,it felt metallic. The walls spoke to him sometimes. They told him that one day he’ll be free but what does freedom mean?
He asked fish but the fish as always didn’t deign to share his opinion.
Jonathan never felt hungry though he did feel cold. Sometimes when the cold became too much to bear he would sleep. Jonathan used to dream the same dream. A woman., a pretty woman. Her name was Mary. She was beautiful. However something about her filled him with revulsion.He would chase her.She’d run and she’d run but to no avail.He’d corner her at the edge of the room pin her down to to the ground.She would scream but there was not a soul who would listen. He’d punch her over and over until the screaming stopped and his fists were bathed in red. Revulsion would then give way to bitter inconsolable sadness and then he would wake up.
Speaking to fish always helped him get over these depressions. Fish despite his flaws was a very good listener.
Today however was different. He felt something he had never felt before. He felt a beast at the pit of his stomach.It clawed against the edges demanding tribute. He was hungry,ravenous.The walls spoke
“Its time Jonathan”
“Hungry…Sooo hungry”Jonathan screamed back.
“Eat the fish”
“But…but he is my friend”
“And he is delicious”
Jonathan staggered towards the fish bowl.The light bulb was swinging like a pendulum.
“I’m…soo.sorry”
Fish just stared, silent as always. He put both hands on the bowl and gulped the water down. He felt fish struggle trying to escape. He bit down on his only friend.
He heard a creak and the entire room was bathed in white.
| 2017-02-11T11:31:10 | 2017-02-11T08:53:22 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans.
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Dear Xander,
Glad greetings to you and yours, and eternal joy to your ancestors.
The invasion of the Earth has been called off. The Sauronoid aggressors that bested us so long ago have all but disappeared. In their place, a race of mammalian bipeds not so dissimilar from ourselves who are incredibly happy to see us for no other reason than the knowledge that they are not alone. They are not as advanced or as long-lived as we are. Compared to us, they are children and warriors such as we are do not make war upon children.
We have spoken to their leaders and they have agreed to allow us to build bases on Earth and their moon. Apparently the humans excel at service industries and I expect that you will see some of them in your sector in the next century or so as soon as we get the wormhole exchange up and running.
I know the one thing that is on your mind: how do we regain our honor after our defeat by the claws of the hated Sauronoids now that they are extinct? We swore an oath to occupy the Earth and pick pieces of their flesh out from between our teeth.
A few weeks after first contact with the humans, I found myself invited to something called a "picnic". A picnic entails an outdoor gathering of humans where they perform simple bonding rituals with each other and then eat a lot of food (Earth, come for the invasion, stay for the food).
So I'm sitting on this blanket in this meadow, trying out Earth food. The dish called "mustard potato salad" is particularly tasty, but then I was served several pieces of deep fried meat that smelled so frfrfrfr good! I tasted it and there was an explosion of delight in my mouth. I immediately asked what this was and I was told it was Southern friend chicken.
Xander, the enemy did not go completely extinct. They devolved. These chickens are the direct descendants of the Sauronoid ruling caste: the Tyrannosaurus Rex! Honor was restored and it was delicious!
We have agreed to terraform both Venus and Mars in exchange for a regular supply of chicken. If things go to plan, there will be chicken producing worlds throughout our empire and the humans will be granted first class citizenship.
A human holiday called Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I'm told they have something called "turkey" that will blow my socks off...
|
We all knew what had happened to the first ship to scout this planet for conquest long ago. One of the species known as velociraptor had climbed on board. Using the air ducts to move around, it had killed the crew one by one. The sole survivor had escaped by blowing it out of the airlock on the shuttle.
With this in mind we were relieved when scans showed no raptors anywhere on the planet. A technological species of hominid had taken over - easy prey, and with the added bonus of ready-made buildings to inhabit.
We landed in a small vacant lot in the middle of a suburban sprawl and prepared for evac. But before we had even opened the hatch we were startled by a knocking sound from outside it. On the monitor we saw one of the ape-like dominant species standing there holding a stack of small booklets.
"Don't worry, sophonts, we can handle anything this planet throws at us" said the Captain. We threw open the hatch.
"Good morning and God bless you" said the native. "I bring you good news of our Lord's love and salvation".
We recoiled in terror and the navigator screamed loudly. Nauseated and in fear for our sanity, we ran further back into the ship. The horrible apparition pursued, shouting "The Savior is the Way, the Truth and the Life!"
The Captain hit the emergency takeoff button and the ship hurtled into orbit. No more such terrors could enter, but we were still trapped with a creature devoid of all rationality. It couldn't be reasoned with. And it absolutely would not stop, ever, until it had converted each of us into one of its kind.
I made it to the engine room and concealed myself amid the complex machinery. I shivered at the sound of the blood-curdling screams of my crew-mates as the creature cornered them. At last, a silence descended and I started to breathe more easily.
Suddenly a five fingered hand shot in front of my face holding a pamphlet, and I heard it's terrible cry: "Accept the Lord as your Savior!" I screamed and bolted for the door controls. Remembering the scout ship from years before, I used the same tactic. I held on grimly and opened the hatch.
The air rushed towards the door and the creature was blown out of the aperture. I closed the door and looked tremblingly out of the porthole. The thing was holding onto the superstructure outside! It's mouth moved but I mercifully could no longer hear its words.
In space, no one can hear you evangelize.
| 2017-03-04T03:42:15 | 2017-03-03T22:58:54 | 664 | 226 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans.
|
Finally, a chance for redemption.
We were headed back to Earth, a lowly mineral planet in a desolate corner of the quadrant. I can still remember the taunting words of Elder Karaza...
*"You lost.... to a bunch of lizards?"*
Yes, it still stings.
I now armed my warriors with long range heavy bows, crossbows and even a few ballistas. THIS would keep that damned Tyrant Lizard away from my troops. No more eating for you tonight!
Shoring up my emotions into a passive mask, We landed once again at the arrival point. The grassy fields looked much the same, but the addition of a spinning fan that moved with the wind was a new one. Perhaps the lizards evolved into something more intelligent?
No matter, we were here to destroy them once and for all. As soon as the ship touched down, we arranged ourselves in a standard box formation, shieldbearers on the outside and bowmen on the inside. I ordered the move towards the fan thing, only to spy a primitive dwelling of wood and stone. Maybe they DID evolve. As we approached, a new Earth creature stepped out. I switched my language router on, and set to autotranslate. PERHAPS it would work.
***
Farmer Macready walked out to see the strange formation of shields and aliens approaching. It didn't look like the aliens in his sons comic, but more like a Roman legion. He stopped, then stood on his porch chewing on a blade of grass. He spit into the bucket on the creaking wood, then leaned against the doorframe.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
***
"...gentlemen?"
The words were innocent enough, but I could feel his tension. My archers raised their bows as I responded.
"We have come to end this. We suffered defeat at your hands eons ago, and now I have come to right the injustices heaped upon us."
With no more words, my archers fired. Not one arrow hit the strange creature, but no matter. He scrambled back into his dwelling as arrows continued to thunk heavily into the wood structure. I heard something break, and then a metal tube poked out. With a voice like thunder and spewing flame, the metal tube bucked upwards, and I saw the first shieldbearer go down hard. He was bleeding green ichor form a large hole in his thorax.
"SHORE UP! CLOSE THE HOLE AND CALL THE OTHERS!"
I started the formation away from the dwelling, as another thunderous boom sounded. Hundreds of metallic pings echoed around me as I felt the sting of an insect. Sounding retreat, we headed towards the ship to regroup.
(To be continued)
|
"A parting shot causing mass destruction to the land was our last effort to win a war that we had clearly lost. The terrible lizards lived up to the expectations. Almost unkillable, they tore our ranks apart. The damn things could stow away anywhere and all of them were dangerous. Finally, we laid waste to come back another day and left Earth.
The day of our glorious return was at hand. The beings are different, smaller without claws and razor sharp teeth. Now is our time. The world is ours, their resources will feed our world for 10,000 lifetimes. The terrible lizards were mindless killing machines. These beings are a little different."
I kept up the braggadocio, but that was a mistake. I would pay for my arrogance. We sent an incursion force. It was only a dozen ships or so. At least we had the element of surprise. Our first target was easy, a secret base near a place whose name didn't translate well into our language: Rose Well.
What happened was considered an embarrassment, but the worst was yet to come. The ships bombed the base, but the humans had advanced weapons. I watched as our ships disappeared, one by one. None of them came back, but we had a larger force ready to go. One defeat was expected though not nearly so lopsided.
But, the next event was unexpected. Out of the oceans came a bubbling. Our sensors picked it up, but what it was remained unclear. Out of the depths came thousands of ships. We were never concerned about the liquid, but we should have been. We hit them with our full force, everything we had, but it was to no avail. Every ship of ours was destroyed, except for mine. Our was force was annihilated in a Scorzar minute, and our sole surviving ship was boarded.
The beings that entered were not what I was expecting. I thought they would loo like the humans, but the terrible lizard foe from our past stared back at me. She was not large, but she still looked the part. They had been waiting for us.
"Tell your kind what you have seen today and do not come back. If you do, your home system will pay for your arrogance."
And with that, she left. The humans seemed defeatable given enough time and resources, but the terrible lizards were not. So, we accepted our defeat, and we went home to tell nightmares about those terrible lizards.
***
If you enjoyed this story, I'm also working on a story starring Batman and Superman called Alienated. [Here is part I.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4phzj3/batman_superman_and_the_aliens_part_i_the_superman/)
| 2017-03-04T03:25:46 | 2017-03-03T19:09:49 | 452 | 260 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel?
|
Of all the narcissistic, self-righteous assholes in the entire Galaxy, why did it have to be Captain Pazazz. Anyone could've killed the Emperor, hell I was about 5 minutes away from killing that old bastard myself, but why did it have to be him!?
I watched as Emperor Galactica's head slid off of his pale scrawny neck, his face frozen in that confused grimace from moments before the slice of Pazazz's Scimitar. It was too clean. Even when defeating evil, this jerk had to go and do it spotlessly. No blood, no screams. Just one lightsword strike, and POOF, done. Where's the fun in that?
I'd have thrown his throne through the Space Shuttle window and watched his last breath freeze. Maybe even shove a plasma bomb in his throat, and watch the fireworks before the blast shields dropped down.
30 long years licking that old man's boots. Clawing my way up to his inner circle and becoming his Elite. All necessary. All in the mission statement. When the King said I needed to infiltrate "deep undercover" he didn't mention it might have took me decades to do that. And now this asshole is acting like it's a walk in the park. Flexing his pecs and saying "all in a days work". Fuck that! This should've been my victory, not some spandex-clad punk with a glow-in-dark dagger.
He didn't seem too impressed with me when I grabbed him by the neck, one handed. I couldn't quite hear his last words, which was a shame. Partly because he was choking, partly because his "partner in justice" Miss Wow was screaming her perfect tits off in the corner. And also partly because the crunching of his neck in my palm was like a sweet sweet symphony.
I threw that prick's corpse next to the old headless geezer on the floor and slumped down in the throne. If it was that easy to dispose the last Emperors killer, then maybe it's time for a new Emperor instead. My reward for 30 years of bullshit. And if Miss Wow doesn't shut her yap, then maybe they'll be fireworks in space after all. My Coronation.
|
Twenty years. Twenty long, grueling years of snivelling, bowing and groveling before the man who had killed his wife.
And now he was gone.
A decent man would be satisfied. But Synon was no longer a decent man. Twenty years had taken care of that.
"I was a spy, my Lord," he said to the bloated buffoon who called himself conqueror. "None wanted to see Tzar Kylm dead more than I."
"Funny," the hero condescended, looking down on his prostrate figure. "Seems to me you had twenty years to do just that."
Synon had to restrain a snarl. It came effortless, by now. "Not all men have your skill and physique, my lord."
"Maybe if you'd trained," the hero said, his upper lip curled. "Fine, you can go. I don't kill wimps."
Synon rose, as stately as he could under the circumstances. "Allow me to serve, my Lord. The Empire is complex and intricate. Surely an honourable man like you could use one of the old guarde, like me." *an idiotic man like you.*
"You? You're nothing but an old snake."
"I was on the good side, my lord."
"How convenient."
"I have the proof. Poison, plans, loyals who will attest to the scheme." Synon tried not to stroke his goatee as he spoke, a bad habbit. Made him look untrustworthy, and this new Tzar was all about appearance.
"Hm." The hero eyed him, as if only truly seeing him now. "Fine. I'll give you a seat on the next council. But I'll be watching you, snake."
Synon bowed, grinning as he turned to leave. It had been about vengeance initially, but that fire had died quickly in his cold heart, after the first year. It was the crown he was after now.
He signalled to one of his loyals that the game was on, the cogs of treason turning once more. This new Tzar was much more pliable, an honest fool.
Synon chuckled once he was outside.
He had waited twenty years.
He could wait five more.
| 2017-03-12T16:11:55 | 2017-03-12T15:08:17 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] The highway bordering the forest has seen some unusual activity. This week alone, hundreds of deer voluntarily lunged into traffic seeking death. All birds have abandoned their nests. As a park ranger, what you find in the center of the forest deeply disturbs you.
|
A few weeks ago there had been an incident with North Memorial Hospital. The police had roped the area off. No one was allowed in or out. Very odd circumstances. Then there was somehow a fire and the place had all burned down along with the surrounding forest. The fact that the fire had started amongst so much surveillance was more than a little suspicious, but Joan kept to herself.
The odd incidents that kept happening these past few days were beginning to get alarming. It had to have something to do with that hospital. The moment it had burned down, it wasn't long before everyone left.
Place was under quarantine for a month and suddenly no one cared anymore. The news channels all went silent on the issue. All that was left was a keep out sign when previously here had been police and even military cordoning off the area. Then all the animal suicides. Well not always suicides, they just all seemed to be running the hell away from the area.
Joan slowly picked her way through the forest heading toward the burnt hospital. The main roads had been closed off, but she knew how to get there through the woods.
The forest was eerily quiet. Her footsteps on the obscure dirt trail were the only sounds to be heard despite it being midday.
The trees looked alright to be honest. The greenery seemed absolutely fine. There didn't seem to be any crazy hazardous environmental damage. The lack of animal sounds were the main issue. Not a single bird.
About 30 minutes in, she picked up a rather odd scent. It started getting more and more heavy.
It wasn't the smell of death, she knew that smell all too well. No... but it was close.
Suddenly there was a sound of rustling leaves. Something large was moving rapidly through the forest.
She drew up her rifle holding it ready pointed in the direction the sounds were coming from.
A bear suddenly burst through the bushes. And ran past her. She barely had any time to react. The bear continued going full charge away.
Joan's heart was beating rapidly at this sudden encounter.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She continued walking. The smell grew stronger.
The only sounds she could hear now were her boots scuffling the forest floor and her panicked heart beating in her ears.
She suddenly remembered the smell was.
Sometimes the rangers would get together and they would go hunting. It was rather odd in this day and age but the government allowed it occasionally to control the deer population. After killing a few deer, one of them, Thomas, wanted to show them how to prepare a deer to eat. So after skinning the deer, he cut into it's stomach to get its innards out.
This was that smell. The smell of fresh hot organs.
The ground seemed to be damp. There hadn't been rain in quite some time now which made it seem rather odd.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Squish. Squish. Squish. Her boots squished through the muddy floor. The smell was everywhere.
She stopped suddenly. The plants here seemed rather... odd. Many were reddish colored or turning brown and drooping. Peering into the distance she saw a very strange looking tree. It appeared to have large nodules on its trunk and branches.
She walked slowly closer.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her breath grew ragged. No... it couldn't be. How?
The tree drenched in what looked like blood, its trunk and branches dark. Decorating it were various pulsing masses.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Hearts. They were human hearts. Growing from the tree.
Dumbfounded, she stepped slowly around the Heart-Tree. The hearts were all different sizes. Some weren't really moving, being malformed and just kinda wiggled in place. Others pumped a bit more enthusiastically, squirting blood out intermittently.
One of her steps squished a bit more than it should have.
She looked down and saw a large fat wormlike creature pulsating around her boots. She screamed jumping back.
It was a pile of intestines. Now ruptured from where her boot had been. It twitched and squirmed along its length.
She looked onward and saw more intestines of various lengths covering the ground ahead. She thought she was going mad.
She did not dare go any further, she could see more grotesque pulsating masses even further down. Whole trees moving in ways they shouldn't be moving. Bushes squirting blood or writhing with fleshy masses. She also realized the ground was covered in blood.
Suddenly a large eye blinked open on the Heart-Tree next to her.
She ran.
|
Dan wipes the sweat from his brow, takes a swig from his canteen, and presses on ahead up the hill. He passed the last trampled dead dear half a mile ago, so he must be getting close. The trees and other vegetation are thick on either side of him….but where he walks, for about 10 feet on either side of where he stands, the grass is entirely flat. Beaten down by the many hooves and paws that have fled down it. This rough road is only the second most unsettling thing he is experiencing. He has worked in the park for 3 years, and had got so used to constant sound of birds tweeting that he had stopped hearing it. Well, now he is REALLY not hearing it – not a sound. The trees and branches are completely silent.
Ahead of him, Dan sees the top of the rise, and gathers his strength for what he might see. What has caused this mass exodus? What do the animals know that he doesn’t? Dan gulps with nervousness and pushed the though aside. He has reached the top.
Straightaway he can see that the landscape is wrong. This hill leads down into the valley, with the famous Altinda Tero lake. The vast blue waters are one of the great wonders of the area – an almost perfectly circular body of water, around two miles in diameter. Usually, it is teeming with tourists. But not today. The lake is no longer there.
Or rather…it IS there…but the colour is wrong. And the surface….instead of the blue that Dan has seen almost every day he has worked there, the surface is now green, with golden striations running through. It looks like is has TEXTURE. More strangely, a sink hole has opened near the centre. It spans out, stopping about a third of the way from the edge of the lakeside. It is very disconcerting to see in the middle of a body of water. Dan can’t see the bottom. He moves down the hill to get a closer look.
At the bottom of the hill, next to the lake, Dan is even more perplexed. More than that – he can feel the something rising in the back of his brain; an animalistic impulse to scream, to shriek, and to run. He asserts himself over this atavistic distraction and walks closer. That isn’t water in the lake.
Near the side, Dan squats down to look. He extends a tentative hand to the surface….the gibbering in his brain is growing stronger, he knows he will have to get out of here soon, or risk his own sanity. He touches it…his had rebounds. Not water. This is solid, yielding, flexible, but solid. The golden patterns on this material shimmer in the sun.
Dan push hard. The material flexes very slightly, but does not give. He steps one foot on, keeping his weight on the bank. It holds. He can feel part of himself slipping away, and something else – the part that thinks about jumping off when he is at the edge of a tall building- asserting itself gently on him. He puts his other foot on. He is standing where the lake used to be, on this dazzling texture of green and gold.
In a daze, he starts to walk, towards the sink hole. It won’t take long, and Dan thinks that holds the key. The sink hole will bring everything into focus, make everything clear.
The periphery of the hole starts to draw into view. Dan walks faster. And then- and then….
The sinkhole draw away. Dan watches as the edge recedes away from him, quickly and smoothly. He doesn’t realise his mouth has fallen open until his is shaken awake…the ground is moving. The golden threads woven into this marvellous surface are shifting around, drawing tighter…the enormous lake retracting somehow, repositioning…
As Dan flails to keep his balance, he is aware of a sound in the distance. A vast and terrible sound, wet and organic, and getting closer. He turns to run back to the back now, but it is too far away now. The sound gets louder….he can see the something is racing towards him, a huge sweeping layer of SOMETHING, closing over the entire lake, covering the green and golden surface tightly and completely…as Dan gapes he can see the landscape around him in the distance shift too, the hills are crumbling, the trees beginning to fall, and then it is upon him
*BLINK*
| 2017-04-27T09:13:51 | 2017-04-27T07:56:29 | 47 | 10 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide.
|
"What is 2+2?"
The voice of god echoed as I looked on, what kind of stupid question is this. I tuought to myself.
"Four. " i blurted out quickly.
"You have passed, you may enter paradise Ender." Gods voice echoed in the emptiness
"By the way, thanks for destroying the bugs Ender." God added as the gates opened behind him.
|
My eyes open and adjust to the light. I'm in my 8th grade classroom. At the front of the room, the teacher stands at the desk.
"How did I get here?"
No response. A voice comes over the loudspeaker.
"You are guilty of genocide. Do you disagree?"
"No."
"All that pass must correctly answer a riddle to enter paradise. Incorrect answers result in punishment fitting your actions."
The teacher turns to the board and writes...
What are the first and last names of every individual killed by your genocide?
| 2017-06-03T02:53:32 | 2017-06-03T01:49:28 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though.
|
There's not much I could tell you about my family you wouldn't already know. I mean, the media makes it pretty easy to learn everything about them these days, so why bother even explaining much to you?
Michael's eveloped quite the Twitter cult following and it's starting to frustrate Mom a lot.
Bad news.
I mean, Michael has only just started his 'Hack for hire' nonsense and while it kicked off well at first, Mom doesn't take competition well. And you aren't going to get many clients when they keep getting knocked off are you?
Poor sport if you ask me.
Dad's a good sport though. Too much of one unfortunately. He's far too encouraging of Michael retaliating and we haven't heard from Mom for a few days now. Hopefully she's just gone dark, and Michael pinning her location on Facebook hasn't done anything awful, like letting her fans know where she is. They're the REALLY psychos here!
Considering Dad's super spy brothers and the diplomat sister that somehow convinced North Korea it was a VERY good idea to launch that nuke, a little mischief must run in the family.
Lila is currently doing her best impression of the Addams family, only with a lot more satanic sacrifices than would be allowed on tv. Who new the Illuminati could be so bloodthirsty?
Maybe Lila joined the wrong club...
I can't say in jealous of them and the attention they recieve. I'm the one with the true power here.
I'm not scared of them either. Yeah, most of them could probably make me dissappear in a matter of hours, but I'm Grandma's favourite. And considering she taught my father, aunts and uncles everything they know, I'd say she's quite formidable.
You wouldn't want to make Grandma mad, now would you?
|
My lover is special; his family is powerful, and gifted.
My lover was born 20 years ago, in what used to be Sumer, while his parents and older siblings were on the run from INTERPOL. He's told me he was cursed, but after his birth, his father and mother; Brian and Jess, reached notoriety for killing hundreds of people without being caught. His sister, Lilli, is rumored to be a high ranking member of the illuminati, should they exist, and his brother, James, has hacked his way into securing all of them safe passage anywhere they need to go and any accouterments they may need. My lover, though, he doesn't do anything like they do, you could say; you could say he's the secret weapon only used when they are beyond shits creek, when all else fails.
My lover is special, I don't know how to explain it, but I've known him angry, though he doesn't look at me then I don't think, it's not safe. I think it's because he was born dirtily in the cradle of civilization. But maybe he is cursed. It may not sound true, but when my lover looks at you, when you make contact with those ice blue eyes, they pierce your soul. If he makes eye contact with you, you will die instantly. You see, my lover sees me but I cannot see him. I think this is why he loves me, my vision is stricken.
Basil, my love was named as such because the guide traveling along with his family died when he exited his mothers womb. He had the stare of a basilisk. Accommodations have been made to protect his family.
My lover is special.
Sorry if it is weird, I fell asleep in r/nosleep and this is what that produced.
| 2017-06-04T07:33:56 | 2017-06-04T07:25:26 | 171 | 70 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though.
|
6/4/17
Dear Journal,
My acceptance letter came today. I finally got into University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign after 3 years of hard work. The classes weren’t too bad but the SAT prep, extracurricular activities, and my family have kept me very busy.
Dad’s involvement in politics keeps him busy. He’s always rushing away to Europe, Russia, the Middle East, and God know where else. I joke with him and call him Jason Bourne. He laughs but I have a gut feeling that Bourne might just be a Hollywoodizing of his life.
Mom has been helping me with my martial arts and self-defense training. It’s sometimes scary how good she is with knives and her in depth knowledge of incapacitating someone.
Darrel got called out of class today to help with some “emergency” at the NSA. His life always revolves around computers. Of course, he is going to MIT this fall. Only 2 years before he is supposed to graduate.
I had to stop by the cleaners on the way home to pick up Glavine’s robes. She’s already graduated so I don’t know how she gets so much use out of it. I always accuse her of running off to her “secret” meetings with all of dads’ friends in high places but she says that they aren’t invited.
--Mom yells up the stairs— “Theodore. Dinners ready.”
My family leads a pretty busy life which is why I just want to do something boring. I just want to be an accountant.
|
You've probably never heard
About the kid
No one dared to cross
Not the sister
Not the brother
Not the mother
Not the father
The sister joined a cult
One stranger than the rest
The brother hacked the CIA
Simply because he was bored
The mother killed any person
That crossed her wrong
The father did things
That cannot be spoken of
Simply because
No one has ever
Done it before
Even then
None of them dared
To cross
This kid
Many wonder why
Many will never know
Few wonder
Few know
Those who wonder think
That they're safe
Those who don't
Think it's a myth
Only to find out
When it's too late
Those who know
Shudder at the thought
Of just catching a glimpse
You must wonder now
What could this kid
Possibly do?
This kid
Isn't human
And yet
Was born like one
This kid
Is all of our demons
Rolled into one
All of our nightmares
Rolled into one
All the horrible things
Of this Earth
Were scraped
To form
This so called child
To put us to sleep
When we've been here too long
Well now that was simply beautiful!
Utterly beautiful!
But I hate the ending
Just so you know
When you're falling asleep
Tonight
And you feel
Like you're being watched
And you've closed
Your closet
Your door
Your window
Just know
That I can still see you...
| 2017-06-04T09:52:41 | 2017-06-04T07:41:59 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though.
|
I was born into a family of criminals. You hear a lot of shit over the years. No matter how sick or "evil" they are they're still my family and you stay in touch with family. When I turned 18, I took my dad's car and drove off into the night with my little brother Joe. Whereas Lucy was too far gone, Joe never did anything wrong. He was just too smart for his own good sometimes. Luckily, I had gotten into Harvard and my gentleman burglar of an uncle, Julian, had left me all of his vast fortunes, so I could get us a place in town.
As the years rolled on, I became a successful attorney, while a buddy of mine got Joe a job interview at NSA. He got the job and was on his way toward a better life.
Then last year, dear old dad came to visit me in Chicago. What does he do for a living? Oh, you don't want to know. Let's just say that he lacks the finesse Uncle Julian posessed and uses questionable methods to get the job done. So, the door bell rang, I opened and there he was, Thomas Buckley Sr. in the flesh.
'Hiya, Tommy.', he said.
'Dad. Why are you here?', I asked.
'You owe me a car, Tommy.'
'The car? I scrapped that bucket of shit a long time ago and got a real car.'
'You remind me of Julian. Anyway, I don't really care about the car. I just want to know where you hid Joe.'
'Go away, dad. He has a better life now.', I said.
'Or do you want to end up like mom?', I continued.
I could see that smugness leaving his eyes and his fists forming.
'I thought I told you to never speak of *her* again.', dad said with an almost scary calmness.
'Look, you just leave now and I won't have the guys at the office hunt you and Lucy down for what you've done.'
'Lucy? What does your sister have to do with this.'
'You don't know?'
'Know what? That she's in the inner circle?'
'That and what her initiation involved. You know, the sacrifice to the old gods. Or do you think Uncle Julian just happened to be found in 20 pieces spread across town?'
'Fine. You will never hear from us again. By the way, how did you know?'
'Julian's will, dad. As his heir, I know all your secrets. Like Paris in '78.'
'I-I think I should go. I love you, son.'
And I never saw him again. I did get a postcard every Christmas, but nothing more.
EDIT: Forgot Joe's name mid-story.
|
This is my first time writing this type of stuff so please bear with me. :)
Story begins:
Me: My whole Family are known for doing illegal things, heck even I admit they do those stuff.
Me: But I know you're wondering why wouldn't they want me to join in their.....well..... escapades?
Agent: Tell me why?
Me: Well...... It's because it uses up a lot of time, and you know time is money, I'm busy managing my business my passion, and my family knows that nothing gets past my pancake business.
Me: Blood may be thicker then Water but Maple syrup is even thicker then blood. Thats my Code and my family understands that, since dedication is our family's thing.
Agent: Interesting. So you would priortize your "Pancake business" over your own family. But why pancakes and do you interact or receive help or help your family?
Me: I love pancakes! Since I was a kid in the oprhanage with my younger brother and sister. Pancakes were what they served every Saturday and Sunday and it was the most delicious thing yet.
Me: But one day, after we got back to the orphanage from a little celebration somewhere, where all ophans, me and my siblings included. We saw the orphanage was destroyed, the destruction of the orphanage the recipe for the pancakes and the person who made them were all lost. The one thing that made living there worth it.
Agent: How does this relate to you not joining with your family?
Me: We're getting there.
Me: After that we were forced to live in rubbles of the orphanage, and one day my parents arrived and took me and my siblings with them.
Me: I eventually found out my Parents destroyed the orphanage since it was quite a process just to get us, and they left us there to teach us the cruelity of the world, I guess it to mold us into them.
Me: I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the lost of the pancakes and threw a tantrum until
Mother: If you love those pancakes so much why not make them.
Me: I took a liking to that idea, and exploiting the part that they felt sorry for me that the one thing I loved was lost forever. I asked them if I can set on a quest to try to remake those pancakes. A quest they all respected. So for a few years I stayed with my family grew up until I was ready. After that I set out.
Me: Before I left my parents gave me money and stuff I would need to live. After that we never saw each other again. Guess our lives were a little too busy to meet each other.
Agent: Very well. Story checks out. You may leave.
Me: Thanks! Be sure to come to my Business. Remember the name "Panned Cake" at the corner of the street near this place.
| 2017-06-04T10:34:55 | 2017-06-04T05:32:37 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now.
|
You grew up with bruises on your knees and scabs aplenty, just like any other kid. What your parents never knew was that not all of them were your own.
You're ten; baby Sarah from next door is bawling because she's just fallen and skinned her knee. You take the pain away from her. As the wound fades from her knee your own skin starts to sting. It's ok. It'll heal soon.
You're sixteen; the first boy you've ever kissed is in agony because he might never play football again, might never get that scholarship, will never be able to escape from this vile, poisonous town. You take the wound away from him. You wince; this hurts more than anything you've ever done before. His eyes are wide; shocked. Nobody thought you had any powers. You can't tell anybody, you say, not anyone, and he agrees. He's so grateful he seizes you and spins you around the locker room, kisses you hard on the lips. It's the last real moment you'll ever share until he, too, leaves.
You're eighteen, and for the past four months your college roommate has been screaming in her sleep. At first you're annoyed; now you're just scared. You slip under her sheets. Her hands are icy cold, and her eyes fly open in the darkness. I can't deal with this anymore, she says, tears falling, please. You don't want to see. You do. Show me, you say, and then you take the memory in.
For the next fifteen minutes all you can do is curl up in a ball and moan, harsh gasps the only sounds you can make. This one, this one you might never recover from.
It's been fifteen years since you've seen your parents. Being summoned to the penthouse in the middle of the night is something of a surprise.
Until you see him. You can see into people now. His cancer is terminal.
Your mother is there. Of course she is. She would think nothing of sacrificing one useless girl for the life of one of the most powerful men in the world.
"My dear...," your father lurches forward, while you take an involuntary step back. "It's been too long."
You don't know when he managed to get so close. His grip on your arm is tight, almost feverish. "Help me," he says, and this time it comes out as a plea.
You lean close, close enough that your foreheads touch. Physical wounds heal, but the mental ones don't always go away, and sometimes they leave scars. You exhale, and it feels as if a shutter in your head has clicked open, releasing all the darkness you've collected from others, all the darkness you've collected your entire life.
He stumbles away from you, hands to his head. Your mother is screaming.
You turn on your heel and leave. You always did abhor screaming.
|
At first, they thought I was worthless. No measurable potential, plus likely schizophrenia. In school, I would have been a great target for bullies, but they never found me, despite my complete lack of stealth or mobility enhancements.
I tried insisting that the voice was a legitimate power, but even mentioning it meant an increase in dosages and another trite storyline about getting new replacements. I was invincible and helpless at the same time, as long as my mind want coffee up with shrink-pills. Even with the pills, I could still read, but it's a lot weirder to stare at the left of the sky than to listen to a mood appropriate voice.
The little shits caught me once. I don't even know who clocked me with the bookbag, but I went down hard, kissing concrete and waking up weeks later in a haze of painkillers. I couldn't focus to read with the drip, but I was in too much pain to think without it. When I finally recovered enough to hear again, the voice had changed. Barney wasn't warning me about danger any more. Now Russell Crowe was waxing poetic about revenge. In the absence of anything better to do, I listened.
I discovered that I could stand the pain. I discovered that I didn't have to listen to Maximus. There were plenty of others to listen to, each appropriate to their own plots. I found one that sounded like Robert Eglund, and began to plan my revenge.
Fortunately, the Aqualads we're almost as much of a laughingstock as me, so mother dearest didn't blink when I asked for some high end scuba gear. Rated for superhuman crush depth, it was more than I needed to swim, but perfect for keeping all my skin cells and follicles to myself. Maisie told me about catching the cat, Steven told me where it should be found, and Clive told me what I did to it once I got there. Mr. Quarterback just might get out of the mental ward by the time I feel clean again, but the place will probably just drive him mad.
In a world full of supers, highschool takes forever. In a schoolyear that never ends, there's plenty of time to learn Japanese. Every time I thought of giving up, Mandy would do something new and cruel to bring my motivation right back. The day I got detention for looking at her, the fury building in me boiled over and something finally clicked in my brain. I listened to Sokoshi all night, and spent weeks setting my trap. Now she kneels all day in her room, bare to the world and softly chanting "I'm sorry".
There are others, of course, but someone has tipped off the police, and I'd like to not be here when they break down the door and find the pile of meat in the fridge that used to be your sister. One look at you, covered in her grime, with her blood in your stomach (the tea), and her body so close, and even the local police will put two and two together. Ciao.
| 2017-06-12T07:49:37 | 2017-06-12T06:39:02 | 1,670 | 22 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now.
|
Shirley enjoyed a pleasant stroll down 14th Avenue, as screams and death filled the air.
The piercing screech of metal-on-metal as cars collided into each other up and down the avenue.
People sobbing in pain, crying out for help. A panicked roar as a frightened mob surged the streets and trampled each other.
Shirley grinned at the sound of it all, as she gazed ahead. Nothing on the horizon but mountains and forest. No buildings or streets or people to be seen. And yet, the sounds. The unholy wail of the dying, the cacophony of destruction and chaos.
She nimbly dodged a fumbling pedestrian, who fell onto a fire hydrant. Shirley could not see them, but she could *feel* them. She had always been able to tell the presence of one marked by her ability.
Fade. That was what they called her. The Legendary League had deemed her a Support Tier hero. That was the ones with powers that may be of some niche use here and there, but who were otherwise unsuited for combat and disallowed from active field work. "For your own safety, Shirley". Feh.
The entire **city** was Shirley's "field work" now. Brash Blaze had been the first to go, when an unseen airliner crashed into him. The Furies had crashed through a window and fell to the street below. Hound, the blind ninja, was unaffected; that didn't stop Thundering Tom from failing to see that a bystander was in his thunderbolt's line-of-fire.
Shirley "felt" ahead. The mob of screaming people was denser further down the way. She paused, waiting for an opening to continue her stroll. Wails of sirens abruptly ending as vehicles crashed blindly into ambulances and firetrucks. Bodies falling with a sick wet thud on the ground as more and more people accidentally fell from broken skyscraper windows. All this chaos happening under the canvas of an open sky and mountains ahead. The sounds of their screams and cries and the crash of stampeding footfalls the only evidence that any of them existed.
Support Hero Fade. Gifter of invisibility. "What use was that?!", the League had said. "We need fighters, people who can handle serious threats. Not mischievous party tricks." Oh they found occasional use for her, rendering powerhouses invisible to surprise crimes in progress. But never good enough for the field. Never good enough for Shirley to save the day in her own right. Just spending her life enabling other people to get all the glory while they snubbed her power as a "party trick".
But with all the buildings and streets, every car and person, every stray dog and bench and lamppost invisible all at once... Madness. Chaos. A party trick, indeed. The entire city would destroy itself by the end of the week, while Shirley listened to every terrified scream.
Shirley set her gaze on the mountains ahead, enjoying a pleasant stroll under a bright afternoon sun, as she listened to the beautiful music.
|
At first, they thought I was worthless. No measurable potential, plus likely schizophrenia. In school, I would have been a great target for bullies, but they never found me, despite my complete lack of stealth or mobility enhancements.
I tried insisting that the voice was a legitimate power, but even mentioning it meant an increase in dosages and another trite storyline about getting new replacements. I was invincible and helpless at the same time, as long as my mind want coffee up with shrink-pills. Even with the pills, I could still read, but it's a lot weirder to stare at the left of the sky than to listen to a mood appropriate voice.
The little shits caught me once. I don't even know who clocked me with the bookbag, but I went down hard, kissing concrete and waking up weeks later in a haze of painkillers. I couldn't focus to read with the drip, but I was in too much pain to think without it. When I finally recovered enough to hear again, the voice had changed. Barney wasn't warning me about danger any more. Now Russell Crowe was waxing poetic about revenge. In the absence of anything better to do, I listened.
I discovered that I could stand the pain. I discovered that I didn't have to listen to Maximus. There were plenty of others to listen to, each appropriate to their own plots. I found one that sounded like Robert Eglund, and began to plan my revenge.
Fortunately, the Aqualads we're almost as much of a laughingstock as me, so mother dearest didn't blink when I asked for some high end scuba gear. Rated for superhuman crush depth, it was more than I needed to swim, but perfect for keeping all my skin cells and follicles to myself. Maisie told me about catching the cat, Steven told me where it should be found, and Clive told me what I did to it once I got there. Mr. Quarterback just might get out of the mental ward by the time I feel clean again, but the place will probably just drive him mad.
In a world full of supers, highschool takes forever. In a schoolyear that never ends, there's plenty of time to learn Japanese. Every time I thought of giving up, Mandy would do something new and cruel to bring my motivation right back. The day I got detention for looking at her, the fury building in me boiled over and something finally clicked in my brain. I listened to Sokoshi all night, and spent weeks setting my trap. Now she kneels all day in her room, bare to the world and softly chanting "I'm sorry".
There are others, of course, but someone has tipped off the police, and I'd like to not be here when they break down the door and find the pile of meat in the fridge that used to be your sister. One look at you, covered in her grime, with her blood in your stomach (the tea), and her body so close, and even the local police will put two and two together. Ciao.
| 2017-06-12T09:57:10 | 2017-06-12T06:39:02 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] You are informed that only 1 in 100 Million people actually make it into Heaven. However, the worse you are the better you are treated in Hell.
|
Satan and all his workers came together for a thundering standing ovation. Billions of people joined in on that round of applause, so loud you could hear it from Heaven. Satan was sure he'd get a noise complaint from God soon, but this was a special occasion. It was worth it. Some of them whistled and even bowed as Jim walked the path leading to the gates of Hell.
"Jim Bauman," Satan said, his booming voice silencing the entirety of Hell. "You have been awarded a special prize, an honour bestowed upon very few of us. You have earned a special suite in my residential complex, where I will join you for breakfast and dinner regularly. I am delighted to receive you."
"Oh, wow," Jim said. "Thanks, I guess?"
"Don't be humble, son," Satan laughed. "Now, we will watch the exact moment I decided to take you in together, and hope we can all learn something from you."
Satan snapped his fingers and lights turned on behind him, revealing a huge cinema screen. After a few seconds, a clip started playing. Everyone watched in awe as they saw Jim, driving his car on the way to work.
"Hey, I remember that," Jim said, pointing at the screen. "It was just this morning!"
Some people gasped as video-Jim slipped into the left lane and crashed into an incoming car, causing the instant death that had led him there in the first place.
"Slow motion, please," Satan ordered. "Zoom in on those hands! Look at how he completely ignores the turn signal switch! Beautiful. Thank you, Jim, for showing us what truly fucked up humans look like. I am so proud."
The applause started once again. A few even had tears in their eyes. Jim was a bit weirded out by how emotional people acted. He'd done this all his life... Well then, he'd just do his best to enjoy his new privileged lifestyle—deathstyle?—in Hell.
|
It all began when the doctor told me I had 6 months to live. I had never considered going to hell. Everyone thinks they will make it to heaven, but that was not what the priest told me when I met him to plan for my final rites.
I remember him explaining to me that only 1 in 100 million people made it to heaven. I was shocked. I had gone to church all my life to ensure I would be treated good after I died. Was everything I worked for useless? I asked the priest what hell was like for those people who were good. He described it as "sitting at the back of the plane knowing you need to get off right away to make a connecting flight, but you know that no one will let you by."
I couldn't possibly live like that for the rest of eternity. I decided that I had to become a bad person in my last 6 months on Earth, such that when I stood in front of the Devil he would look upon me with respect.
Since I had been good my whole life, I started small. I would stick gum on the underside of desks, and place push pins on people's chairs. After a few days, I graduated to breaking laws. My first killing took place only 10 days after my meeting with the priest.
I wish I could say I became a vigilante, but I knew it couldn't be considered a good killing to gain respect in hell. I could not bring myself to kill people sober, so I began to delve into drugs and alcohol myself. I also wish I could remember killing, but I would just wake up covered in blood.
But this was nothing compared to the worst thing I had planned. I wanted to put my name down in history as one bad dude. I was trying to get the presidential suite in hell.
My Plan?
You'll know....soon you will all know.
(If you enjoyed this short story (and a disclaimer: NOT AN ACTUAL THREAT, JUST A STORY) and want to read more of what I've written, give /r/theinfection a visit. Its a soon to be book based on a WP response)
| 2017-07-11T14:08:09 | 2017-07-11T14:00:02 | 52 | 14 |
[WP] Major events on Earth are actually aliens testing humanity to determine if they should make contact. We fail their tests spectacularly each time, but fact that we survive their tests has them dumbfounded.
|
The idea of applying tests of political, social, cultural and technological natures to candidates for uplift was not new, but the idea of biochemical and structural tests certainly was. There had already been several frankly disastrous attempts to directly uplift presentient _Homo_ species, and after allowing them to progress to sentience on their own it became rapidly apparent that if this wasn't managed carefully there would be another incident like the Rigel IIb Affair. And that took mass production of chemical weapons to solve...
It was always the case on War Worlds. Sol III, Rigel IIb, Theta Aurigae VI... they had evolved from constant competition and predator-prey relationships. Without the mitigation of cooperation on Peace Worlds or of distance on Solitary Worlds, War Worlds became violent places and sentience not dying out on its own in the longterm was frankly unusual. But Earth had flourished, and there had appeared to be so much hope for this curious dot with its tenacious creatures. Their own authors describe themselves as "where the fallen angel meets the rising ape", and it's a fair description. Enslaved to their own forms but desiring so much more. How could we not assist?
But they were a War World, and untreated and untamed they would destroy the galaxy's delicate balance. They would be unable to appreciate the subtleties of our power exchanges, driven by their instincts to see all as an enemy and everything as a weapon. Even their peace activists see the road to peace as being washed slick with blood. How could a War World understand? How could we understand them, we of our Peace Worlds who knew little or nothing of weapons until we met those who knew nothing else? How could anyone comprehend the xenophobic Solitary Worlders who, so assiduously manage their own population rate, lest they choke themselves and die like a sapling in a bed of vines?
And so we tested them.
---
Vesuvius was a mistake. We had not understood their psychology, had not appreciated that those who remained did so not due to a logical assessment of risk, but due to a kind of stubborn refusal to see it. So many dead... They will never know that there was an hour of silence then, across a hundred worlds, for a species who kill each other in droves every day. But then, such is our way - we are no higher above our instincts than them, we're just better at lying to ourselves.
And yet they rebuilt. More than that, they _flocked_. They farmed the new soil, planting vineyards in the same ash that killed two cities. They built bigger and higher, stronger and faster. They didn't just survive, they flourished.
We pushed onwards. Hurricanes were weathered until radar allowed for evacuation, until atmospheric manipulation allowed for diversion. Earthquakes killed thousands, and new buildings were built to sway and bend. Rather than reject sites out of hand, they _used_ them. They used volcanoes to heat their water, monsoons to plant their crops. We thought we'd gone too far with the bubonic plague but they survived, they evolved. Within a decade children were born that would never fear the violet rings and blue-black blood of a weapon that we designed.
Spanish flu wasn't our fault, though many of the outer council members believe it to be a conspiracy. They fought bravely, and won - and it only cost them 120 million lives. That number would have left a Peace World empty, but War Worlds always are good at breeding.
Initiating false-flag attacks and propagating the dissemination of radical materials - _any_ radicals - is standard practice in strain-testing a political culture but we didn't even get a chance. They seem to be doing _remarkably_ well on that themselves, and the fact they're not dead yet is frankly quite impressive. We watched the Khmer Rouge and the Holocaust with a kind of sickened fascination, the notion of "genocide" being a new concept even amongst War Worlds. Not even Chi Carinae I went that far... But the outcry _against_ such actions was what saved them. Some of their political figures might not have been out of place on a Peace World, and their horror at the raw power of atom weapons prevented our agents arranging for an "accidental supercriticality incident", which is standard practice for a War World with atomic weaponry.
In all, honourable members... I think they've earned it. Not enlightenment, not at their current stage - we rarely even enlighten Solitary Worlds before their first interplanetary colony is achieved, and doing so to a War World is patently ludicrous. However... I think they've earned permanent de-listing from the War World termination list. Despite their flaws, and they are many, they have seeds enough for peace sown in good ground, and I say... I say we give them a chance.
---
Votes Against: 12
Votes For: 26
Abstentions: 0
Motion Carried.
|
"OK Gralgog, I've been out of the loop and you need to bring me up to speed. The Qualing beasts of Alpha Centuri took a little more time to convince than anticipated, but," said Horbalfang triumphantly, as he rocked his seven butt cheeks down into the leather gravity-cavity, "I'm pleased to announce that they are now part of the Greater Omniverse Doctrine!"
Gralgog nodded, then bit his lower lip. Then his even lower lip.
"What is it, Gralgog?"
"Nothing, sir. Its just... It's just that things with the humans have become... a little complicated, sir."
"But they were in the final unification stage when I left. Did your Ambassador fail to convince them to join G.O.D?" Horbalfang took a sip of his tangy arsenic and lemon tea, and blissfully closed his eyes. "Ah. There's no one in Alpha Centuri who can brew tea like you, Gralgog."
Gralgog's pours opened, releasing a stinky sweet smell into the room. "The ambassador..."
"Yes?"
"Is..."
Horbalfang sighed. "Yes?"
"Dead."
The mouthful of tea that was being swilled like a whirlpool around Horbalfang's mouth, was promptly spewed out about the debriefing room.
"Dead?" he finally asked, as his tea dripped down the walls.
"Yes, sir," replied Gralgog, tugging at the skin around his neck.
"Jesus Christ."
"Yes. That's him, sir. He was crucified."
Horbalfang shook his head. "Such a waste. He was a great Ambassador... How damned unorthodox of the humans - perhaps we were wrong about them. I suppose you left them well enough alone, after that?"
"No sir. I didn't give up. A Pleeblox is never deterred!"
"I see. So you convinced them to join, in the end?"
"Ah, well you see sir..."
Horbalfang sighed. "What happened?"
"Well, I erm, I tried to help them. They had issues, you see. Simple things to fix, really. Differences of opinion over skin color, for example. Or belief in birthright or heritage. And they became particularly violent with regards to religion. Soo," the purple alien ran a hand through his thinning nose fur, "I sent down a few more of our ambassadors. "
"...and?"
"And, the humans killed them, sir. All of them."
Another mouth opened, and another wave of tea crashed against the wall. "How many did you send?"
"About a hundred, sir. Most were called heretics and burned alive. Some shot. Others simply gave up, and took their own lives."
"*Gave up and killed themselves?*"
"Yes, sir. They did, but I didn't!"
Horbalfang groaned. "Perhaps you should have."
"I am a Pleeblox, sir. I'm proud to say we never give up."
"I wasn't referring to giving up. So... what happened next?'"
"Ah. Well here's where I made my first mistake."
"First..."
"Yes, sir. I sent in the mad ambassador."
Horbalfang's third and final mouth spat tea onto the leather gravity-cavity; it hung suspended in droplets. "*Glibglog and Tukenfrock!* he cursed, "Why would you do that?"
"Because... we needed to unite the people of Earth. And Ambassador Hitler might be crude in his methods, but he gets the job done."
"And... did he?"
Gralgog shook his head. "Not quite. In fact... he's dead, sir. Took a good chunk of humanity with him, too."
"... he's dead?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"Don't be. That's the only good that's come out of this entire debacle. What about humanity? I take it that was the beginning of the end for them."
"Actually, it wasn't sir. They're rather resilient. Much like the cockroach queens of Pluto four."
"Well then, at least we didn't cause a mass extinction."
"Ah. Well..."
"*Oh Scooplore and Budgeonbell* - what do you mean 'well'?"
"That's where I made my second mistake."
"... you didn't."
"Yes, sir."
"*Not Ambassador Trump,*" pleaded Horbalfang, running a tusked hand slowly down his face. "How's he going to enlighten them? You know his stance on the universe's heat death, even in the face of all the evidence."
"I was running low on Ambassadors."
"Well," Horbalfang considered, "I guess that really is the end of humanity."
"It's certianly looking that way, sir, but you never know. Another Tea, sir?"
Horbalfang nodded, although right then, he'd rather have drunk poison. There was going to be a *lot* of paperwork to fill in tonight.
| 2017-08-01T01:11:24 | 2017-08-01T00:37:33 | 2,765 | 235 |
[WP]"Alright genie, for my last wish...I wish for every day to be better than the last."
|
"Alright genie, for my last wish... I wish for every day to be better than the last."
The Genie crossed his arms above his conduit stone and smiled wide.
"Your last wish is granted, Jacob Lancaster, mortal of Earth. Now, I have but one proposal of you."
Jacob was confused. Of course he'd heard the stories of Genies in a bottle and the three wishes they granted, but never of the Genie asking for a proposal. Then again, he'd never actually thought Genies were real in the first place, so what did he know?
He turned to look at his white Ferrari, and the stacks of replicating money within it, slowly climbing to the roof of the car and out its windows. The Genie had made his dreams come true, the least he could do was hear him out.
"Of course, anything within my power I'll do."
The Genie floated down to eye level and placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder.
"Jacob Lancaster, mortal of Earth, I see great things in you. My stone has been found but once before, by a reckless fool. He changed the course of your world with his wishes, made himself very powerful in the process." The Genie floated around Jacob and solemnly looked to the ground. "I've regretted fulfilling my duty that day all that time ago; and I believe this may be my moment of redemption."
The weight of the request hit Jacob hard, harder than he'd thought it would. Especially with the sound of stacked hundred dollar bills materializing from nothing and falling out onto the ground behind him.
"What can I do to help?"
The Genie raised his deep indigo eyes to meet Jacob's.
"You can set me free."
"Set you free? Aren't you like, bound to the lamp --"
"Conduit stone."
"Conduit stone, yeah, whatever. Aren't you bound to it forever?"
The Genie swirled around the black smooth river rock near Jacob's feet.
"I am, but only if I want to remain immortal. Something I still very much desire, but not more than my desire to reverse what I've done." The Genie placed both hands on Jacob's shoulders, "I am in the twilight of my existence Jacob Lancaster, and before I move onto the next plane, I would like to leverage your wishes to make this world right again. It is something that must be done if your last wish is to come true. So, Jacob Lancaster, mortal of Earth, if I were to wish to become one with you, to use your wishes to stop the man I've made a God, would you grant it to me?"
Jacob couldn't truly consume all of this and make any sense of it. To be one with a mythical creature on the path of revenge? What the hell did that even mean?
But something inside Jacob stirred, a strong sense of this feeling like destiny manifested -- a turning point in his otherwise shit life. What did he really have to lose? Well, besides the Ferrari and the infinite amount of money; both of which he wouldn't have ever achieved on his own. His mind was made up.
"I'd say that I would grant your wish."
A look of intense pleasure took over the Genie's face as the conduit stone began to float and spin. The rock began to glow white hot, making the world a bright flash.
Jacob woke up on the ground. The stone and the Genie were gone.
"H-Hello?" Jacob stammered out. No response. He stood to his feet and brushed himself off. He looked around to find himself still in the clearing where'd he'd originally gone to relieve himself. The Ferrari was still there, half buried in piles of cash which grew higher. But he was alone now, desperately alone.
"Jacob Lancaster?" A whisper said from behind him. Jacob startled and turned. Nothing -- no one was there in the moonlight. "Can you hear me?"
"Genie?"
The Genie laughed heartily. "It worked! We are one now you and I, on the path to redemption!"
"Holy shit! You're inside me?"
"Our souls are now bound, but only for a short time. We must make haste now if we are to make every day better than the last."
Jacob felt something in his throat, tingling on his neck, and a cool perspiration trickling down his back. He realized that he'd forgotten to ask who it was they would be after.
"Genie?" He asked, "you never named the man we're going to find."
The Genie was quiet for a moment, but Jacob felt his rage.
"The man has gone by many names Jacob Lancaster, many names. But there is one that he has seemed to settle on for quite some time. A persona he has used to get himself into the limelight for the first time in a millennia."
A silence dragged out the tension.
"His name, is John Cena."
To be continued?
For anyone interested I've created a new subreddit to continue my popular WPs: http://www.reddit.com/r/insaneangler
|
"Y'know kid, I normally don't give advice. I mean the quicker you wish the faster I'm done. But hear me out, this wish might not be the bes-"
I interrupted the Genie.
"Just grant the wish!" I huffed impatiently.
"Alright, your funeral." The Genie let out a burst of pink sparks that showered over me.
We stood there awkwardly while I was waiting for something to happen.
"Well? What the heck? Nothing is getting better! And why aren't you going away?!" I looked around as I said this and pointed a finger accusatorially at the Genie.
"Listen kid, I feel bad for you. To answer one of your questions it's not tomorrow so it can't get better yet. But I feel bad for you cause I really want to lay out the advice for you so zip it for a minute." The genie pointed a finger at me and zipper magically appeared over my mouth.
"Alright, that's better. Now listen, that wish you just made has extreme consequences. If you weren't so stubborn I could have told you this before you tied my hands. This wish isn't going to be what you think it is. I really almost never do this but here's my card, you can't lose it. Literally, it will always find you. Call me and maybe we can work something out in the future." The genie tucked a small business card in my pocket and slowly sank back into his lamp.
The lamp vanished and so did the zipper on my lips. I took in a deep breath and yelled aloud,
"Stupid Genie! What do you know!" I shook a fist upwards at nothing.
I turned on my heel and a grin began to creep across my lips. *Oh man! I'm gonna live the best life ever! No bad days, nothing but smooth sailing from here.*
I walked out of the temple and into the jungle, I followed the path I'd carved through the bushes back to the small village I'd made camp in.
*Many years later.*
I sat in my favourite arm chair, the leather perfectly worn and moulded to my body. It was comfortable chair but it didn't make the day any better. I took a swig from the 40oz bottle of whisky I held loosely in my fingers. It didn't make the day any better.
I heaved myself to a standing position and shuffled aimlessly through my house. I stopped by the pool to see if the water was warmer today. The harem of stunning, beautiful women that was always partying around my property was cooing for me to join them in a game. The water was warmer as I slunk into the pool but it didn't make the day better. I gave the women a dismissive wave because they could not provide me with anything that would make my day better.
I sat there in the pool staring listlessly at a tree. I watched it wave slowly in the breeze. It didn't make my day better. I sank my head beneath the water line and closed my eyes. 10 seconds... 30... 45... The burning in my lungs was screaming at me to rise up but I stayed there. It felt like it was making my day better but I wasn't sure. I opened my eyes and shot upwards gasping for air.
I rubbed the water out of my eyes and slicked my hair back. I stared down at the water and to my surprise saw a card float into my field of view. I plucked it out of the water, it was dry. It was a shade of pink and looked holographic.
I recognized it immediately. The thing I could never get rid of, the Genie's business card. I hung my head low and slammed my fist into the water screaming.
"My days aren't getting better you liar! They're the same! EVERYDAY THE SAME FOR SO MANY YEARS. WHAT DID YOU DO!?" I started sobbing, holding my head in my hands right there in the water.
I heard a poof and smelled smoke.
"You did this kid. I told you, serious consequences." The Genie floated above the water just in front of me with his legs crossed.
"I was so young! You didn't lay out the rules, you didn't help me!" I bellowed at him.
With this the Genie began to grow tall and a wind began to swirl around him.
"**How dare you say such things. Your own ignorance has put you in this situation and your ignorance alone. I should smite you wear you stand.**" The Genie began to raise his arm, I outstretched mine and closed my eyes.
There was a pause, the wind died down, a silence whispered around the entire property now. I opened my eyes and the Genie was floating there, sullenly.
"You're beyond hope, kid." He grabbed the card from my hand and snapped his fingers disappearing in a puff of smoke.
I sat there stunned, alone. I slowly sunk back under the water, I was wrong before.
It was making my day better.
***
hope you enjoyed it!
| 2017-11-06T11:02:04 | 2017-11-06T10:19:57 | 19 | 12 |
[WP]Humans are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Not because we are smarter or more advanced than aliens, but because we are the only ones stupid and stubborn enough to try.
|
"A long time ago, before we were slaves to the Sura, before we taught other species to travel the stars, before The Age of Other Suns, our people were a desperate, lost species."
"What happened?"
"A lot of it is sort of myth now. It's difficult to know exactly. What we do know is the Earth became unlivable. And it was our fault. People back then, they had no hope. Their accounts are of melting roads, power failures, rising oceans. Entire cultures were lost underwater, apparently."
"These oceans?" Raziel placed a finger on the globe on Zhuge's dresser.
"The very same, larger of course. Anyway, we had nowhere to go, and even though we could travel to Mars at the time, there really wasn't anywhere to go locally. So our people rallied together to find a way off of the Earth."
"Seems so strange now. We can get across the galaxy in a few hours."
"But anyway, the ships were too heavy right, so we had to find a way to get them some lift. Supposedly when we came back to the Earth some centuries later the remains of destroyed and failed ships were still there collecting dust. But we persisted."
Raziel sat on Zhuge's bed, thumbing through an ancient tome about something called "flyfishing."
"They couldn't have known they'd succeed. Why keep trying instead of trying to save the planet?"
"My dad liked to say it was because we were strong-willed, and had a desperate need to explore. But I think--"
"Hey Zhuge, you see these, what are these, pictures of some kind? They aren't 3D! And what are these people wearing anyway? Where is this?"
"--we were too stubborn. A lot of books I read from that time talk about space. Lots of em. I think we were just stubborn ya know? We wanted to prove we could do it. It was not about saving us, it was about giving the universe a middle finger."
"But what about the pictures, Zhuge?"
|
Three more ships were launched into the stratosphere, and three more ships were bashed back down to earth by the giant space squid.
"We need more spaceships" Shouted the president
"But sir, we're running out of metal. And the jetfuel repository is running dry" A NASA man shouted back.
"Damn your cowardice" The president shouted back. "Guards, take this man to the jetfuel repository and launch him into space. Make him die to the squid for his insolence"
And the gaurds did take the NASA man to the jetfuel repository, and the President watched him get launched into the stratosphere only to be bashed back down to earth by the mighty tentacles holding up the sky. The president looked out the window poignantly, and steepled his fingers poignantly, and sighed a few times so the few blind NASA men in the room could also get in on how poignant his plight was. He'd made a bet to be the first into space, giant squid be damned. And he was losing it.
"Giant squid be damned" The president said. "Yah damn that squid" another NASA man said back, the president pointed at him and two guards got up to escort the man to the jetfuel repository. The president watched him launch into the sky, and wept for all the voters he had lost on this day. It had been most of them, the country was stripped barren other than the whitehouse, essential NASA men, and the great celestial squid mankind had gambled against and lost.
The president picked up his space phone. "Hello, operator, could you connect me to alpha centari?" he asked the phone.
"Yes sir Mr. President" the operator told him, and he waited a year for his signal to travel.
Mr Alpha Centari President answered the phone. "Hello, Johnson" he told the phone, "Calling to call it quits on our bet, eh?"
But the president never answered. He had starved to death months ago, having watched all his planet's farmers and children and hopes and dreams launch into space only to be stopped by the squid.
| 2017-11-22T15:51:46 | 2017-11-22T15:36:45 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her.
|
"Noooooope. No chance. No way. I'm not falling for this one again," the dragon bellowed, "I mean, seriously Dominic, how dumb do you think I am?"
"Well, first of all it's *Sir* Dominic the Bold"
"More like Sir Dominic the Dumbass for thinking that I would take care of a princess after what happened last time."
Dominic paused. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from this conversation, but he was pretty sure it wasn't this. "Sir Dragon," he stammered, before being cut off.
"How many times do I have to tell you people?! My name is Phil! Not Sir Dragon, not Lord Dragon, not even Trogdor the Burninator... **Just. Phil.**"
Dominic began quaking in his boots as Phil's ire continued to rise, but he knew he had to complete his mission, for the good of the Kingdom.
"I've been here for millennia, minding my own business," Phil continued, "and every couple hundred years, you imbeciles manage to get yourselves in a war you can't win and come crying to me for help."
"Sir--" Dominic began, before catching himself, "I mean, Phil... What happened 'last time'? You may have lived for thousands of years, but I'm only twenty two, so forgive me for my ignorance."
Phil growled. This human seemed different than the ones in centuries past. But time had taught him to always be cautious around these creatures, for they were small and flammable, but clever and deceitful. "Every two hundred years or so," Phil sighed, "you imbeciles manage to piss off a neighboring nation more powerful than you, and when they raid your Kingdom, every time, without fail someone comes to seek my help. Usually for help in the battle, but sometimes they come seeking my help to watch over the heir to the throne. Seven centuries ago, a man not much older than yourself convinced me to watch over the Prince until he could take the throne. Not three years later, knights raided my cave seeking to kill me for kidnapping the Prince."
"Surely, one incident hasn't--"
Phil cut off Dominic swiftly. "What is that human expression... Ah, yes. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. For, you see, three hundred years later I was approached again. The castle had fallen, but this time it was the Queen herself who graced my presence. She had escaped the castle, but had grown separated from the King. She was with child. I helped her give birth to a son. She died shorty after giving birth to the man who would become King Philip the Draco."
"She named him after you, that's quite the honour, Phil!"
"It was an honour, indeed. Until sixteen months later when my fortress was assaulted by the King, Philip's father, for regicide and kidnapping again. You see, he had no idea that I had helped the Queen and had raised his son. He wanted vengeance for the death of his bride. I killed him in self defense, but that night I left Philip with the castle Steward, and explained what happened... That was almost four hundred years ago. It hurt so much to have to give up my son, and to have my name besmirched by your kind, yet again. I swore to never help the Throne again."
Dominic certainly had not been expecting this. When the King entrusted him this task with his dying words, Dominic never would have known that he wasn't the first human to approach the dragon asking for a favour like this. Dominic hesitated, then quietly said, "look, Phil... I understand that humans haven't exactly been kind to you"
Phil scoffed, as a small puff of smoke escaped his nostrils.
"I do," Dominic continued, "but without your help... The princess, lady Phyllis, will die alongside me, in a creek overflowing with blood"
Phil paused. "What did you say her name was?"
Dominic smiled, his plan was working. "Lady Phyllis, of the Draco clan."
Phil began to sniffle. Dominic had never seen a dragon in person before, and from what he had heard, he thought they were incapable of crying.
"Alright." Phil growled, "I'll do it. On one condition."
Dominic was elated! "Yes! Anything!"
"You have to stay here too, to explain this to whomever inevitably comes to kill me in a few years."
Dominic knew he had no choice. "I agree to your terms, Sir Phil the Draco. You are a being of honour."
"And you are a human with a noble heart, something I did not expect to see again."
Dominic looked to the infant princess, and smiled dryly. 'Forgive me,' he thought to himself, 'Princess Abigail.'
|
"To my dearest Yvain
I was a dragon, strong and old stuck in a cave for a crime you should never know. How long has it been I wonder since I was out? For the last time I walked these grounds there was no town or city but forest ever so green.
This was where the magical beings stayed until the mortals arrived or so I'm told . As the magical beings left they soon forget of the little old me stuck in the cave, it's funny to how one lost is another gain, for the mortals or what you call humans found me. They started fight me not that they should try. I was never their enemy or even a foe but this all fell as did they all. They call me a monster as each hero failed to return thinking I had ate them when all I did was to freeze them is all I did. Is it really wrong to defend your home? When people come at you with axes and swords?
Anyhow as the kingdom grew so did their might, I was avoided as the forest around my cave grew thick and I didn't mind that or that's what I said for I wished for a friend or maybe someone that would stay in this cold cave of mine. Should have been more careful with my wish if not trouble would come, not that I'm saying your trouble more of a headache than murderous intent. For one day that man came with bruises and wounds that would have been deadly but he was determined to come and see me, a little nobody.
He came with you, the treasure he cared he begged me and asked me to take you in for that's where your destiny lie. "Please great dragon take this child" he started as he told me of what happened outside. He told me of how his kingdom had fallen and to how their enslaved. He spoke of your father and how he died protecting the country he once called home.
As he tried to preach to me to take you in I could see it in his face he was dying. Thus I stopped him half way telling him I was no great dragon but merely a mischievous one stuck in a cave. He stared at me with eyes I could never forget and said "but the stars tell me another story it's said that you two are bound by fate so please...." He never finish his sentence and I was left with you.
The first few years I wonder how it would go caring for a baby no older than a week old. Lucky I never killed for those people that came to attack me now are your caretaker,your teachers and friends to this little village we call home. Yet as time pass I never realize how your now old enough to take on your destiny and for me to take on mine.
If your wondering why I'm writing rather than telling you all these, it's because I've given up my life to make you stronger, maybe then your pain won't be as bad.
Take on my scales as I've asked them to make it armor so that the enemy can't push you down with their numbers for I worry their swords and arrows will Pierce your skin.
Take on the sword made from my scales for I know that's the only thing you can wield. You always refuse to fight not because your weak but because you know it's not right so take on this sword for it will protect you and those you wish. It's a sword fit you a queen
Take on my wings and let it be your mantle, let it warm you on those cold nights at war so you remember your not alone.
Take on my wisdom for I worry you'll be fool for the world there's many people that wish to take advantage of you my princess.
Take on my strength and let it be your own so you can succeed for that road to your success is filled with hardship and heartache however I'm sure you'll succeed with or without my help
Not that I'm complaining. I was happy to see you grow I never realize that these people could be so kind. I was lonely for so long forgotten by so many people, that I forgot warmth. Yet seeing you smile melted this cold heart of mine.
Do you remember your first words? I do it was tia.. that's what you called me. Me whom was nameless only being seen as a scary dragon people avoid. Yet you gave me a name with a smile on your face never once running away. That made me happy in this short life of mine..
I wished the stars let us met sooner than maybe this cold prison won't be as bad, however why am I to question fate for I have met you the sun in my life...
My destiny was to be released by you and was I ever, for you've released me from my pain and torture. From my solitude and silence, by bringing discord and happiness.
So please find your happiness... For I have already found mine in your smile....
Yours truly
The nameless dragon you call gon"
"But gon ....how can I be happy without you..."
Edit: comments are welcome please tell me if it's ok
| 2018-03-01T04:39:40 | 2018-03-01T01:48:12 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Your spouse has the annoying habit of unexpectedly licking you. When you ask them why they do it, they always reply "just so you know it's really me." You think it's nothing but a cute joke. One day, feeling something is off, you realise your spouse hasn't done it in over three weeks.
|
I was packing up some of Fi's old things when suddenly it hit me.
Three weeks, four days, two hours without a lick.
It was a strange little thing, just one of those things that made Fi, well, Fi. Randomly, out of nowhere, "just to let you know it's really me."
Sometimes, it would happen in public, and people would give us strange looks, but we'd act like nothing even happened.
Sometimes, she'd stop mid-sentence for a lick, and continue on like nothing ever happened while our friends and I all tried to stifle our laughter.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd wake up to a familiar wet sensation against my arm and a whispered "sorry".
I laid the box on the floor and sat down, staring at the now barren counter. A few minutes ago, it had been covered in tiny pebbles, each one equally spaced from the others. Another one of her Fi-diosyncrasies, as we used to call them. I tried to remember some of the others, trying to remember her.
How, whenever she turned on a lightswitch, she'd flick it three times, on then off then on again.
How she'd go to the fridge and open it, look inside for a second, then close it, even though she'd just looked a few minutes ago.
How she'd take the stairs in an alternating pattern, one stair, two stair, one stair, two stair, the sound of the two pounding through the house.
She hadn't been able to do the last one in over a year, though.
I remember finding her, lying on the stairs, passed out. At first, the doctors said she'd be fine, that all she needed was a few days rest. Over time, though, it became clear that wasn't true.
I watched her slowly fall apart, one Fi-diosyncrasy at a time. Day by day, she lost the energy required to keep up all her obsessions, and then to do anything at all.
After she couldn't walk anymore, she'd randomly call me up to the bed, saying she needed something. She'd talk faintly, almost in a whisper, so that I'd have to lean close to hear her. And then, I'd feel something wet hit my cheek. "Just so you know it's still me.", she'd whisper.
I picked up the box again and headed out the door to the car. But then, I noticed something.
A small cat sat on the porch. No collar, matted and dirty fur; probably a stray. I put down the box again, and knelt to get a closer look at it.
Suddenly, it dashed over to me, and gave me a small lick on the hand. It stared at me, eyes wide.
Just so that you know it's really me.
Now, I'm no believer in reincarnation. I know that, whatever happens, my wife is gone now, and nothing's going to change that.
But that didn't stop me from calling it Fi.
|
It had been three weeks since my wife last licked me. She had never gone this long without doing it. Her mood had grown grim lately too. She was distant, often avoiding me, and the scarce trade of words we had were about mundane topics like food.
I always thought it was a joke, a weird habit of hers. 'Just so you know it's really me,' she said. What if she was messing with strange, spiritual stuff behind my back? She certainly had a fascination for horror movies.
I was never a man who found comfort in taking risks. I was wary, cautious. That's why I bought a bible, rosary beads, and hid a wireless microphone in her jacket.
The next morning I prepared her breakfast. She faked a smile, made up an excuse, and left to work. Fortunately, she wore the jacket. I bolted toward the computer, put on the headphones and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, she finally spoke, "Watch your lane, asshole!" Wow, all right honey.
There was a minute of silence, she said something I couldn't hear properly, then I lost connection. This worked better in the movies.
What had she said? I repeated the audio, focusing on her words. 'People, they should dance in the shadows.' My heart thundered. What did that mean?
I spent hours walking around the house, my thoughts running wild. Was she possessed? But how? If there was a clue, it must be hiding somewhere in the house.
I searched inside every drawer, every corner. There was *nothing* strange. I looked at the calendar, this had started three weeks ago, on September 21.
September 21.
I felt my pressure dropping, and I barreled outside my house. How didn't I notice it before? If my heart was thundering before, now it was on the verge of exploding. I had forgotten our anniversary.
There was no gift that could fix her broken emotions. I knew that, but I had to try. How could I be so stupid? I came back home at night with an empty wallet and a big rock to put on her finger. I took a shower, dressed up, prepared some dinner and waited for her.
She opened the door and frowned.
"Mike? What is this?"
I ran toward her and gave her a hug. "Honey, I'm sorry I forgot," I said. "I hope you can forgive me."
I dug out the ring from my pocket, lifted her right hand, and adorned her forefinger with my tangible, expensive apologies. She grinned like a little child unwrapping gifts in christmas. How beautiful she was when she smiled.
"It took you a while," she said and took a deep breath. "You are forgiven, honey."
"Well then," I said and placed my hand centimeters away from her mouth. "Do your thing."
She frowned, grabbed it, and guided me toward the table.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8fnavq/wp_your_spouse_has_the_annoying_habit_of/dy58oi8/)
---------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more stories.
| 2018-04-28T20:50:43 | 2018-04-28T17:15:45 | 10,373 | 577 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later."
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 303 | 210 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
“I want to roll to invade them!”
“Uh, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes. Of course. Just let me roll.”
“Fine. Roll.”
He rolls his 20 sided die across the table. It stops directly in front of the Dungeon Master, who looks down and smirks.
“Well. You go to invade Russia. You gather your troops and march right in. But you’re too stupid to realize you should never invade Russia in the winter.”
Hitler angrily looks over to his die. He sees the clearest image of a 1.
“Well hell. I’ve been rolling good the beginning of this campaign. What else could go wrong?”
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T07:54:52 | 303 | 36 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.”
|
"A runner arrives with your orders. Would you like to read them out?"
"Sure." Katie unfolded the paper that Danny, the DM, just passed her. "It says that the Ruskis are carrying the guns away, and want us to stop them."
"So we charge those guns? That sounds ... dangerous."
"There's, like five-hundred guns. What are the rules on volley firing like that?"
"I'll look them up."
"It's got to work. Danny wouldn't TPK us, would he?"
"I will if you keep metagaming."
"Fair. Okay... well, we charge the guns, cut them down as they retreat, and take them. Yeah?"
"Katie, are you sure this is a good idea? I've only just rolled this character up. Couldn't we refuse?"
"Orders are orders. It's not for us to reason why."
"No, just for us to do or die."
"HEY! That rhymes!"
"Well done, Alf. Write a poem about our heroics later."
"Who brings a bard to a battle anyway?"
"We do: sound the trumpet to face East."
"Wait," interjected the Danny, "East?"
"Yeah, that's where the guns are right? So East."
"Guys..."
"On my mark, we charge."
"Are you sure about this guys?"
"Get 'em."
There was a horrible terrible silence.
And then Danny said, "can you pass me the rules on volley firing?"
"Sure."
"Oh ... it does not look good for you guys."
| 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T07:34:04 | 150 | 104 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had.
|
The voices.
The voices you hear when you unlock a new skill was wonderful. When you heard them, you could do something new.
There was the basic voice, for things most people got when they were young: "walking" "reading" "cooking". There was the mundane voice, for average adult skills: "driving" "swimming" "whistling". There's was the advanced voice, that usually meant something you could do as a vocation: "computer programing" "electrician" "engineering".... And then there was the legendary voice.
The legendary voice was rare. Only a few thousand people had legendary skills at a time. And rarely would anyone have the same skill at the same time. They were powerful skills. They made superheroes, and super villains. Many times the skills weren't easily defined by the name, and it could take years to figure out what it meant.
For instance, a few years ago, awoman got the skill, "disappear". She spent weeks researching until she found out it meant she could just... Not be seen. She didn't turn invisible. No, she would just not be noticed, even if you were looking right at her. Or there was that guy, Frank, that got, "lift". It took him months to figure out it was telekinesis.
Anyway, I received a new skill a few months ago, and it was the legendary voice. That is cool, but I had no clue what it meant.
When I heard the voice, I was ecstatic! This would give me a reason to get out, meet people, and be something good for the world again.... If my old bones could take it... Whatever it was.
Sadly, I never got the chance. Within seconds of hearing the voice, it went black. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't even feel. "What a cruel twist of fate" I thought as the world faded away.... I become a legend, as I am old, older than anyone else, and dying. I would never get to use my skill, heck, I would never even know what it meant....
And then...
Light. I was wet, coughing up fluids, and screaming at the top of my lungs from the shock. I couldn't focus. I couldn't speak, it was as if my body had degraded to that of an infant. I was hungry, and gasping for air. I realized I was upside down. I looked around, as my eyes tried to focus, and I saw a giant being, dressed in white, covered in blood, and other fluids. He wore a mask, obscurung his identity (not that I would have known this demon anyway). He was HUGE. His forearm was as big as my entire body.
He wiped me off, wrapped me in something so I couldn't resist, and handed me to another giant. This one was female. She was beautiful. She held me close to her breast, and I felt warmth.
Perhaps this wasn't hell.
After I calmed down, and got my bearings, I looked up at her, and told me new mother what my new skill was:
"continue".
|
It was integrated into our societal infrastructure. There were thousands of skill trees, most undiscovered. It seemed that no matter how technologically advanced we were, there were still skill trees to be discovered and honed.
Some skill trees were abandoned, just utterly useless and others entirely taboo. Everyone could navigate through their skill trees with ease, like thinking. Nobody else can see your skill trees. Its a natural part of the human condition; its understood the same no matter your language or disabilities. There are books that tell stories of ancient skill trees that are now inaccessible, they refer to the ability to use magic.
You can work on any skill tree you desire, there is no limit but you have to work to maintain the skills learned. Neglecting to care for the skills associated with a tree causes it to die. Anyone can plant a seed towards a new skill tree by doing an action that applies to that tree. However, you can't grow a bigger tree until you hone your skills. When a tree grows larger, most skills become available for you to utilize.
The larger a skill tree, the more effort and attention it needs to maintain its growth. To grow it to its peak size becomes a passion, a purpose in life. Some skills intermingle and the trees understand that, so many professionals have trees with interlocking branches. They speak to each other to keep your skills available to you, but if you neglect one it can pull down another tree.
There is a skill tree associated with health and wellness that is believed to lead to eternal life.
In ancient legends, those who had discovered that skill built the *'Fountain of youth'*. An organization that devoted their life to the tree of health and wellness. Younger members neglected all other specialties trees and instead focused their efforts on it. In time, one or two students would unlock the skill for eternal life and become official elders.
Today, nobody can reach that level of devotion with the level of complexity our lives are filled with. Except for me of course.
See, I discovered that skill a long time ago. Thousands of years ago actually. And with every other elder deceased from their lack of devotion. I alone have discovered the newest skills. Yes, there's two of them.
The tree of health and wellness refers to them as 'Permanent Health and Wellness' and 'Devote Assemblage'
When I unlocked 'Perma Health', all the air rushed from my lungs and I felt superiorly powerful. My genetically bad knees stopped hurting and my body transformed into perfect health despite all my efforts. The hair on my head turned from white to chestnut brown. Alongside a number of other significant changes.
The second skill didn't do anything to me, but anyone I touch is reset to perfect health. But there's a catch, I have to transfer the health of one person to another.
So today, I revealed my powers. As usual, the entire world went up in arms deciding which people need to have their health reset and which people should die as a sacrifice. It happens every time.
I'm going back to the fountain of youth, its well hid. I'll just wait it out again, I did for the Egyptians and the Romans. I guess I'll wait for someone else to reach the peak of their tree and see what their power is. Maybe they're in hiding like me, it's a dangerous world for us.
| 2018-06-23T11:28:35 | 2018-06-23T11:22:33 | 3,495 | 348 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had.
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I looked at the readout again. After turning 179 (take that Methuselah, ya fake bastard) I had earned another skill. One never seen before. My eyes were replaced last year with new "genetically vat grown" ones, whatever the hell that means and I'd been offered all replacement parts. But see, you don't get a new skill unless you're 95% original parts, at least that's what they tell me. So I stuck it out. I read the readout again as my smile broadened. Well HOT damn!
I opened the door for the first time this week. I slowly, at my age there's no other kind of speed, made my way onto my front porch just as my house rattled from the 8:10 rocket landing at the spaceport across town passed over. You could always count on the old Space Force to be on time!
There they were. The damned teenagers. Drinking and smoking glick sticks and throwing their beer cannisters on my lawn.
"Hey you kids," I yelled. The biggest laughed and stood up.
"What is it, ya old geezer?" He yelled and my smile broadened. Time to see if this skill was worth it.
"Get off of my lawn!" and I touched my cane to the ground. The earth rumbled, buckled, and tossed all thirteen of those little bastards dazed and confused onto the moving walkway, shock in their eyes as they drifted off toward the horizon.
Hot damn! It was worth living till almost 180 to finally get the Get the Hell off My Lawn skill!
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I turn 140 years old in 3 minutes. You'd think it would be a happy day for me, but it just reminds me of my loss. My kids have long since passed away and even most of their kids no longer remain. Yet here I sit, still alive despite years of drinking cheap scotch daily and having the occasional cigar.
Two minutes now. The world had changed so much since 1878 when I was born. I remember basketball just being invented as a child, I recall with clarity going to the first World Series in my 20s, and I remember dozens of wars and thousands of acquaintances who died in them. A lot has changed.
Less than 60 seconds now. I wonder how long I'll make it. I'm halfway through my "birthday bottle" of Scotch - a 20 year highland from my favorite great grandson - and plan to polish the rest of soon. Maybe this will finally finish me. I want to... What? There's a ringing in my ears. It's all I can hear. Is that the graduation march? What...
Suddenly my vision is filled by a translucent screen. It says, "Congratulations! You have completed "Human" level. Would you like to progress to Dolphin?"
There appear to be two buttons below. One red and one green. I reach towards the green button and my world goes black. I'm lost. I must have finally let dimensia catch up to me. This is what crazy - SPLASH!
I'm surrounded by wetness. And knowledge. So much knowledge. I smile as well as my new body will let me. This is going to be fun!
| 2018-06-23T13:18:44 | 2018-06-23T12:10:29 | 208 | 153 |
[WP] You were recently granted immortality by God. For years, you have seen immortal characters in media say that it is a curse, not a blessing. You just think those guys have been using it the wrong way.
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"Seeing everyone grow old and die while you dont age, or seeing people you love, dying of sickness or disease, its agony, immortality is a curse."
"No matter how many things you try, drugs, booze, base jumping without a parachute, it all gets old. You become numb to everything and wish you could wither away like the rest, but it will never happen."
"Seeing entire nations rise and fall, witnessing all the wars and bloodshed, it's enough to drive you mad after a few centuries."
It's always the same old talk, immortality is a curse, itll drive you mad, make you wish you could die again. And it's all bullshit. See, the issue is that when immortality is brought up, everyone thinks of selfish ways to use it, and they get bored after a while. The truth of the matter is that it's all in how you use it.
Sure there are going to be tough times, just like in any mortal life. Loss of friends, family and loved ones, natural disasters, wars, but theres always something worth living for, even when you're unable to die. All these people preaching about immortality being a curse, they're just using it wrong.
The true way to use immortality isn't to be worshipped, or revered as a god. It's not about the drugs, money, or adrenaline either. Imagine being able to rush into a burning building without caring for your safety, just to help anyone left inside escape. Imagine being a rescue diver for people trapped or lost in underwater reefs or cave systems, not needing to worry if your tank runs empty. Or how about volunteering to be infected with any number of viruses or diseases to study their effects and symptoms, and working towards a cure or treatment to help save millions. All these things and more, that's what I've been living for the past few centuries to accomplish, always staying nameless or vanishing after people have been saved, giving the credit to others.
Immortality is only a curse when you use it for yourself, but it's a blessing to everyone else when it's used right.
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I spent my first few centuries in seclusion, sure being worshipped as a god was fun for a while but those petty mortals have no idea what it's like to live forever. I've had atleast ten generations come and go, while I keep living. The torture of getting married and watching your partner wither and grow old while you live in eternal youth, unaffected by disease unable to simply end it all...it's enough to drive a person mad.
I was there during the black plague, they had me dispose of those that had fallen to this brutally painful disease. I did catch the plague once or twice and it was agony, but alas it could not kill me so I was to live with the pain of my body trying to rid itself of this putrid infliction. Then there was the london fire, I was there for that aswell, I don't know what happened with that though I just snapped. I'd had enough of the pious morons worshipping the very ground I walk on so they just had to be...cleansed.
As the years dragged on I grew shallow and cold, hardened like stone by my years of ensuring mental and physical pain. It's too much to deal with and now, the only way I can really entertain myself is by travelling to different locations, making up some sort of bizzare urban legend and then making it come true. Nothing pleases me more now than inflicting upon others the same agonising torment that I've had to endure for years.
So let this be a warning to those of you who wonder what it would be like to be immortal, it is a sad, dark and lonely existence and it's just not worth it. Further more if you should happen upon some local urban legends it could well be that I'm not far from your home, in fact I could very well be in your home, waiting in the dark to snatch you from the darkness.
Out of everything I've just spoken of however, there is one thing that you can most definitely be certain of...I am the thing that goes bump in the night!
| 2018-08-29T05:53:02 | 2018-08-29T04:09:20 | 235 | 10 |
[WP] You chant "Bloody Mary" three times in your car's side view mirror and then hit the gas laughing all the while as she sprints towards your car desperately trying to keep up.
Edit: Optional inclusion, it's the eighth time you done this.
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“Pull over !” she says, as she manages to catch up to match my speed.
She’s running swiftly beside my vehicle now, travelling upwards of 55mph.
I roll the window down and say :
“It’s a cardigan, but thanks for noticing!”
I give her a friendly thumbs up as I speed off into the sunset.
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Steve had the perfect idea... he would chant “Bloody Mary” three times in his car’s side view mirror. It would be hilarious, he thought. He imagined her hopelessly sprinting toward the car trying to keep up with him and laughed himself silly. After he chanted the words into the mirror with a big smile, he heard a voice coming from the back seat behind him... “who’s laughing now, bitch!” Mary said, as she leaned forward and slit his throat.
| 2018-10-01T15:22:26 | 2018-10-01T13:41:16 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
credit to r/Debdub10 for thinking of the idea
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Planetary conquest had a tried and true method. No matter how advanced, primitive, or psychic it had never once failed in the 10 thousand years it had been practiced. You went in, killed 80% of the population, put the rest in camps with only spoons for food and you harvested the planet for all it was worth. Sure, some races had tried to dig out with the spoons, but it never worked. Humans, however, were a totally different beast. It all started when a guard's eyes were found laying about the place, then when a team was sent to investigate they never returned. High command got a little nervous, so they sent a fully armed military unit in to find the huddled and naked forms of the soldiers. They appeared starved because their skin was so loose, they were immediately taken aboard the ship and then the ship went silent. Next thing high command knew there was a group of a few hundred completely naked humans with their 'guns' showed up and blasted them to bits. The empire fell, all over a few spoons.
First prompt, also on mobile so excuse any formatting.
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The entire point was to develop more empathy by furthering understanding of ourselves.
Some people are hard on others because they had a harder or more competitive life themselves, not always but some. I wanted everyone to start becoming more understanding of their situation so they could understand others eventually but I have too much mental baggage to do it in person.
Once you know why you do something you can generally guess why someone else does things which is common knowledge which is why I wanted to utilize it.
 
The two things I didn't plan for was that:
1) The majority of humans aren't honest with themselves they run from things that hurt them or make them uncomfortable leading to people having inaccurate assumptions of others because they deny the aspect of human nature they deny in themselves.
Most people just create narratives because life is complex/hard and sometimes it's easier just to make quick judgement because other things require more attention
 
2) People don't really actually care for others because they're too busy or impatient with their own lives. It's difficult to create empathy unless people see archetypes of each other daily, blue collar, white collar, different races etc.
Peoples lives are too busy with their own lives to put much focus on others unless they see them on a daily basis
| 2018-10-11T12:03:42 | 2018-10-11T11:17:31 | 69 | 11 |
[WP] Most teens have breakouts of acne; you have it far worse. You have breakouts of ACME. This is the third anvil which dropped from the sky this week, and you're getting annoyed.
You don't have to keep to the three anvils thing. I was more or less just coloring the idea with that detail.
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*Mother fucker* I thought to myself.
If it weren't for being so broke I'd be dead. Chasing the nickel I dropped kept me just out of the war path of a 1200kg blacksmiths anvil screeching toward the ground at terminal velocity. ACME embossed in large bold letters on the cold cast iron. Usually I'd let it roll away.
*Thats the third one this week*
My first thought was to sue. I took to it, contacting a prominent personal injury lawyer in the area; Hershel Moishevitz. (Stereotypical, I know, but I don't make this shit up.) I booked an appointment, showed up and explained what's been happening.
"First things first, my friend. We must do some research on this ACME you speak of." Hershel said, his old feeble hands quivering while he adjusts his yellowed Bakelite framed bifocals.
"I've already looked it up, all I can find is ACME threaded rod, I don't know what that is but there's no actual ACME company. Other than of course, you know. Like bugs bunny rockets and stuff."
Fool me once, shame on me. This near-miss flattening every other day is becoming a sincere concern of mine so I'm not necessarily practicing my best patience with old Hershel.
He turns in his squeaky old chair, and powers up his computer. For an old guy that looks like he hasn't left 1962, he's pretty nifty with technology and his fingers skip nimbly over the keys.
"Hmm yes it appears so. Well I don't know if there's much I can do for you but take pictures next time and email them here" He handed me a business card.
"This is my colleague, Martin Schultzburg, he knows a lot more about your sort of, um.. Situation."
Confused, I take the card and leave. On the way back to my car I can't help but think that this all seems extremely familiar. I'm pretty sure I've seen this in a movie or something before, but I can't place it, I've never been a movie guy.
I grab a coffee at the shop on the corner and a pack of smokes before I head through an alley across the street to the parking lot. I hate cities. I open my car door and sit down, turn the car on, blast the heat, and light a cigarette.
As I'm about to take a sip of coffee, I hear a comically obnoxious ticking, like a really fast metronome, but loud. I turn around, and sitting in the back seat of my rusted out sunfire is a cartoonishly perfect bundle of dynamite, complete with curly red and blue cords, a big laughable clock face, and about 50 sticks of blast ready Tri Nitro Toluene counting down to my demise. There's only 5 seconds left.
3..
2..
1..
*MEEP MEEP*
Boom
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My heart can't be repaired. It's torn and worn in three different places. I've listened to Eliot Smith on repeat, and the pain perpetuates. She's there. Right in front of me. But I can't bring myself to say anything. It hurts to look at her, but I can't stop. I see a future, and I don't. I'm a mess. At least I was.
Things have been falling from the sky. Actually, not things. Anvils. Three in one week to be precise. The first one came, and I saw it coming. Call it dumb luck, or gut feeling, but I *felt* it falling — a black mass of pure weight. I looked up and *saw* it. The foreign object turned, spiralled and no matter which way I craned my neck it seemed to be heading straight for me. It was like it had my name on it. Part of me wanted it to hit me. The melancholic part of me. The one that believed my entire life was tied to a girl. It's not. My life was not anchored to a girl. Part of me wanted to sit in a pool of my self-pity and soak. Part of me wished that the anvil would end it all.
I moved. I dodged the first one with a last minute gasp of air. I didn't want to die. If I did, I wouldn't see her again. The second anvil came with a similar foreboding. I could almost *hear* the air that whistled at the weight's side. I looked up, three days after the last, and waited with an expectant expression. *Come on. Hit me. I dare you.*
I moved. I continued walking and found my natural stride comforting. The ground beneath my feet stopped me from floating away, and I thought back with a shaking head, *How could you think of, even for a second, stepping in the path of certain death?* And then I remembered her. Sometimes I like to entertain the idea of a quick death. Let's cut it short at twenty and accept that the remaining sixty years would be packed out by a meritocracy, lost dreams and postponed futures. I thought of the girl I would marry - it would never be *her*. No one could be her, and that scared me more than death.
The third anvil came. Goosebumps woke my neck, and I tilted backwards to watch. It was graceful, as graceful as a one-tonne weight could be. It looked right at me, and read my dissatisfaction. I didn't move — not this time. I wanted it. Three was my favourite number — I used that as an excuse to take the full force of the message that the heavens were trying to send me. I saw her face one last time, and I knew I had made the right decision. The darkness was like a blanket. Warmth wrapped itself around my body, and I drifted. I'm still thinking of her, even though I shouldn't. It hurts.
---
/r/WrittenThought
| 2018-12-21T19:45:12 | 2018-12-21T14:57:59 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts
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'What empire was the largest in the history of the world?'
'The British empire'
'What was the name of Horatio Nelsons warship that he used in Trafalgar?'
'The Victory'
'What has a greater landmass, Great Britain or the United Kingdom'
'Fuck!'
'That isn't an answer Miss Greenham.' The inquisitor said in the most patronising tone he could muster.
'urm.....' Hannah was weighing up her options.
'please god! My husband lives in Manchester, please i'll do anything!' Hannah was pleading in vain, and she knew it, the inquisitors were never sympathetic.
The inquisitor moved his chair back across the uneven concrete floor, stood up and collected his folder from the desk.
'Miss Greenham, that is precisely the problem.'
'What do you mean, what do you need from me'
'He tried to protect you Miss Greenham.'
'Protect me from what?'
'He denied the marriage, said you had just started dating'
'What?'
'He answered all the questions very well and so we moved on to section two. Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you didn't know that the man you married was an eigth French?'
'Brexit means Brexit Miss Greenham, it's very simple'
The inquisitor pushed his chair underneath the table and left the room as Hannah began screaming at the top of her lungs. What the fuck had just happened?
The problem with screaming is that at one point you have to stop and breathe in very deeply. Breathing in deeply ensures that the gas gets to work fast. Screaming was perhaps the best thing she could have done.
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Aaliyah hitched her shorts, purse tucked beneath her arm, carefully making her way over the rough gravel roads. A beautiful raced past, with a gaping sunroof and windows glinting in the sunlight. A magnificent beast stood arched on the hood. Aaliyah sighed; sometimes she dreamed of that. She was but a simple girl, attending public school.
She was sixteen, and likely only had two more years of education - most of her standing only learned until eighteen, at which time they gained employment toiling for the rich. Her father worked in a caryard, and her mother in a grocery store. Her father’s caryard stood not far from the grand gates to the wealthy neighbourhoods of town, lined with tall trees that changed with the seasons. They would go on to university at the very least, with graduate school and a guarantee of master’s being more likely. Then they would inherit the companies of the world. It was just the way it was.
On the televisual communications devices, they saw the powerful and mighty argue over nuclear weapons, and if and when they should be deployed. She knew nobody who had encountered one, for she was not of the world, living in a simple town. Aaliyah had never left her state, and believed in one God. She had been assigned female at birth and continued to present that way into adulthood, ignorant of any other way.
She paused outside The Apple Store, gazing into the window. These devices were large and clunky, with a large button, sometimes outstretching one’s hands. But Aaliyah had only known these primitive communications for her entire life. Nevertheless, she could not dawdle - for her brother’s birth anniversary was approaching, and she had sworn to buy him nikes. It was a solemn oath, and she would not revoke it. On she continued to the nikes realm.
| 2018-12-25T03:34:13 | 2018-12-25T03:19:47 | 58 | 43 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right.
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"John?"
"Yes, Jenny?"
"Open the door."
"No. I heard the announcement."
"What ann- what are you talking about?"
I knew it. Playing dumb. That's exactly what these things do. Every time.
"I know what you are. You can't fool me!"
"John, for gods sake nothing is happening. Just unbolt the door."
"I saw the helicopters... I heard the explosions... you think you can fool me?"
The... creature... let out a sigh.
"It's just a standard military test John. You live near a military base."
John seems to put on a mocking tone.
"Oh sure! Isn't that convenient?"
A deeper, slower sigh is let out by the possible Jennifer.
"Yep. You got me John. I'm an alien now. I come in peace and I'm here to negotiate peace. Now let me in."
John seems to relax a bit.
"In... peace? Why would I be so important?"
The alien stubbled.
"Uhh, you represent the standard human civilian and we need your view for the galactic republic. I need to interview you."
John tenses up again, seeming more wound up than before.
""INTERVIEW"? I know how your "Interviews" work. I will NOT let you TEMPT ME!"
Sounds of John stomping come from behind the door.
"Damnit John just let me inside damnit! Why are you acting like this?"
Jenny hears a sigh come from the other side of the door.
"I'm sorry Jenny. I don't know what came over me. It's obviously you. I was just joking."
John chuckles
"Oh my god you asshole!"
Jenny starts laughing
"You really had me!"
Jenny hears the door unlock, and in victory she turns the doorknob to open her house door.
Only, the doorknob feels different. Cold, rectangular. With a loud bang, the doorknob fires.
"I knew that'd get your gaurd down. I am not falling for anything."
Jenny's crimson blood slowly pools out the side of her hip.
"W-why?"
A musical tone is heard from the TV.
"ATTENTION. THIS EMERGENCY BROADCAST TEST HAS CONCLUDED."
^(I don't do this often so I'd like some feedback, however negative)
|
For the first time since specifically choosing the dark mottled glass that we fit into the front door, I regret it. We pondered over everything in the house for so long I thought we would never make any decisions, but it was the one thing we both agreed on instantly. One of the few joyous moments I can remember from the past few months.
I can hear you making bad jokes and exhaling cigarette smoke. The glass is mottled but I can still see the ribbons that frame your face, you almost look gentle. I know this pretence won’t last long and soon your fist will be on a mission to meet up with my nose. My heart is in my throat as you call my name in that sing song way I used to think was cute. You tell me you can see me. Bastard glass, I knew we should have chosen a carved wooden panel instead. I will kick myself for this forever.
I need to think fast. I had planned to walk out before I got the text, my suitcases casting a dim shadow over my legs as I stand dead centre in the hallway. You’re getting irate. I can’t have you see the suitcases. I can’t. It will turn them into bodybags, holding my limbs close and solid against the worn material. I need more time. I need more time... I can hear you growing more and more exasperated. Your knuckles meet the glass as you slowly knock, a gentle beat. It reminds me of the song we used to sing in the car.
I can feel the sun on my face, the wind blowing my hair everywhere and you complaining, again, about how much of it falls out and litters your lap. You like it really. Little pieces of me to remind you what’s yours. The song playing in the background and our falsetto so loud we could probably deafen small children. But then the beat quickens, and I can hear the glass shatter.
I’ve spent so long worrying and thinking back to better times that I don’t have enough time to react as you thrust your hand through the glass and unlock the bolt. My hearing catches my sight up and I turn to run but the handle you’ve created out of my hair lately is already in your hands.
I hope you snap my neck. That’s the last thing I think before my body yanks back and meets with the cold hard floor.
| 2019-01-12T08:39:18 | 2019-01-12T06:51:06 | 38 | 25 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right.
|
"John?"
"Yes, Jenny?"
"Open the door."
"No. I heard the announcement."
"What ann- what are you talking about?"
I knew it. Playing dumb. That's exactly what these things do. Every time.
"I know what you are. You can't fool me!"
"John, for gods sake nothing is happening. Just unbolt the door."
"I saw the helicopters... I heard the explosions... you think you can fool me?"
The... creature... let out a sigh.
"It's just a standard military test John. You live near a military base."
John seems to put on a mocking tone.
"Oh sure! Isn't that convenient?"
A deeper, slower sigh is let out by the possible Jennifer.
"Yep. You got me John. I'm an alien now. I come in peace and I'm here to negotiate peace. Now let me in."
John seems to relax a bit.
"In... peace? Why would I be so important?"
The alien stubbled.
"Uhh, you represent the standard human civilian and we need your view for the galactic republic. I need to interview you."
John tenses up again, seeming more wound up than before.
""INTERVIEW"? I know how your "Interviews" work. I will NOT let you TEMPT ME!"
Sounds of John stomping come from behind the door.
"Damnit John just let me inside damnit! Why are you acting like this?"
Jenny hears a sigh come from the other side of the door.
"I'm sorry Jenny. I don't know what came over me. It's obviously you. I was just joking."
John chuckles
"Oh my god you asshole!"
Jenny starts laughing
"You really had me!"
Jenny hears the door unlock, and in victory she turns the doorknob to open her house door.
Only, the doorknob feels different. Cold, rectangular. With a loud bang, the doorknob fires.
"I knew that'd get your gaurd down. I am not falling for anything."
Jenny's crimson blood slowly pools out the side of her hip.
"W-why?"
A musical tone is heard from the TV.
"ATTENTION. THIS EMERGENCY BROADCAST TEST HAS CONCLUDED."
^(I don't do this often so I'd like some feedback, however negative)
|
A chill rushed through my spine as the front wheel of my shopping cart squeaked. The store was busy when I had arrived but a lot of people had just cleared out. I gathered the last few items I needed and hurried to the check out. Ally was waiting in the car and I knew she was going to complain about how long I had been. She was the most impatient but amazing wife any girl could want. I exited the supermarket and trotted to the car with our bags.
“What took you so long?”
“Relax, I couldn’t find the cherry tomatoes.”
“Check your phone. Somethings going on. We need to get home.”
Ally started the car as I buckled in. I pulled my phone from my pocket and read the warning message. Another chill hit my back. Something was wrong.
“Al, you feeling alright?” I asked.
“Yea, I feel fine. Why?”
“Well, this text came through while I was inside...and...you were outside. I don’t know. Something is just weird about it.
“Relax, baby, I’m fine. Look I’m sure it’s not a big deal. When we get home you let Sammy out and I’ll grab the groceries, okay?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Al never gives up a chance to play with her puppy. Sammy has been her world since we rescued him. Al was driving differently too. Both of her hands were gripping the wheel, she wasn’t playing with the radio. Scared? I wonder.
We pulled in the driveway and Al leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Everything is alright,” She reassured. With a sigh I walked to the front door and entered the passcode. A glance behind me showed a strange blue-green sky. That was the last straw. Ally had been outside smoking a cigarette, she was acting weird, driving funny, even the sky proved that something was wrong. Something was up with the world...and that something had gotten my wife.
I closed the front door behind me and typed in the “full lockdown” code on the smart lock pad. Simultaneously I heard the heavy duty locks snap on the doors and windows. I looked through the window, Ally was starting up the steps, our rainbow flag whipping in rising winds. Her green eyes met mine and for a moment she knew before every speck of her consciousness faded into black.
Critiques welcome! This is my first response to a WP!
| 2019-01-12T08:39:18 | 2019-01-12T07:02:27 | 38 | 21 |
[WP] You are an alien whose race sees in ultraviolet and whose voice is extremely low-pitched. Humans appear as terrifying eldritch abominations with pitch-black eyes who make black speech.
EDIT: Apparently these things also have the power to elevate Reddit accounts to all-new heights of Karma in under 24 hours. We must fortify our systems against these abominations at all costs.
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Terrans
In the entirety of space, there is no planet more terrifying then Earth. The species speak in tones barely reached by any other and are of sizes that are barely imaginable for us. The intelligent species of this world called hoo-man are considered to be so utterly terrifying that when the first contact was made people tried to open attack them immediately.
When they arrived with their ships the size of the moon and walked out to talk we knew life was over. They looked as tall as 3 adults as scary as a dor-shun with diseases and as evil as the dal-vo himself.
Yet as we attacked them, they sat down. Their shields blocking whatever we could throw at them. They seemed to relax and wait for us to release our entire arsenal on them. Nothing worked even slightly.
When we retreated to analyze the situation again, the hoo-mans picked up a machine and aimed it at us. It did not kill us, but after this, they spoke our language.
"Do not fear." they said, their voices now sounding higher and more like us, "We are here to give you the gift that is the universe, for your star will destroy your world in the coming century".
As we soar the stars, in machines we just start to comprehend, we realized, that the species of horror, was a species of hope. In the end, we fear no longer, for the eldrich are on our side.
|
"Sp-p-ace ship mall function," our alien leader, Zoorog, computed. "Landing to Earth."
​
And with a thud, the metal vessel clambered unto a strange new planet. I would try to tell you what they looked like, but I only have a textbook reference. Humans- homo sapiens.
​
What we can see on Earth is only in ultra-violet. We can't communicate it to you that well either, but sometimes the light hurts our eyes too. We also don't speak English but our computer brains are translating this for the sake of possible communication.
​
We think we scare the humans, but we are scared of them too. They always run away from us whenever we try to talk, and they don't even try to befriend us- they just assume we're trying to take over the world or something. It's quite an apocalyptic mindset to have if you ask me. It was just an experiment gone wrong.
​
We've been told we talk funny and low- pitched like the voice from inside a computer. We look funny but you are all terrifying- you run around with flailing arms and chicken legs, and have pitch black eyes: like monsters.
​
Don't worry, we want to tell you- you've disappointed us with your fear. We are looking for a way back home now. But your planet does make us marvel in its beauty who knows when we'll back...
| 2019-06-30T08:46:32 | 2019-06-30T00:50:30 | 71 | 35 |
[WP] You are a hitman who has just finished their most recent job. Or, at least, thought had finished, because the second you take your eyes off your target’s corpse, you hear “Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one.”
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The groan from behind Jim sent chills up his spine. Not a chance did he survive, it was point blank to the back with a shotgun.
"Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one." The target, a man with a slight build and a pale face is now suddenly in front of him smiling. The gaping hole in his chest behind to stitch itself back together. "Of course, it takes more than that to put me down, but I'm impressed by your ability to sneak up on me. Not many humans can do that." His fangs descend slowly from his gums.
Jim stares blankly at the obvious vampire before him. "So I guess this is where I die, then?"
It's the vampire's turn to stare blankly. "Well that was an unexpected reaction to seeing the person you just attempted to kill revealing themselves as an undead Apex predator."
"I accepted death long ago, buddy. I knew at some point one of my targets would get the best of me. Admittedly, learning about the existence of vampires this way is a shock, but the world is so big and mysterious, I'm willing to accept anything, especially when it's stitching a 2 foot hole in its chest back together before my very eyes. Neat trick, that, by the way." Jim's words are cold, emotionless and somehow still possessing of an air of superiority. He has stared death in the face before, though this time it seems far more inevitable.
"Well then, may I at least get the name of my would-be assassin?"
"Name's Jim. Jim Hunter, ironically."
"Well, Jim. I am currently going by the name Gilbert Wilson. Though I assume you knew that. However my given name was Alf Eriksson. Born in 1659." Gilbert smiles and gives a bow with a flourish.
"Well met. So, what happens next, Gilbert? Or would you prefer Alf?" Jim inquires with a calm that would be unnerving to any living man.
"Well that does present quite the conundrum, doesn't it? Obviously since you didn't know what I was, that means you weren't aware of our existence... which is how we like it. So, letting you live is a hard sell. But you are also an exceptional example of humanity, so killing you seems to be a waste. I could turn you, though I doubt you're really wanting that, plus there's the politics that come into play with me turning a human without approval. Since I do not possess the ability to mind control mortals, I can't erase your memory either. And yes, I would prefer Alf given our present situation." The vampire responds.
"Well Alf, I did just attempt to kill you, surely there must be some animosity that influences your decision."
"That may be so. But you're hardly the first to attempt. So I will let that slide. I truly am impressed with your abilities. And you would be quite the asset to us, should I turn you."
"Let me stop you there. I hate the taste of blood and love the taste of garlic. Gonna have to pass on that one. Let's just agree that now that I know what you are, and I haven't technically fulfilled my contract on you, I'm too dangerous to let live." Jim has resigned himself to his own demise.
Alf's chest has finished restoring by this point, though his clothes remain soaked in blood and with a hole in them. "Well Jim. If you're determined to continue pursuing me, it's kind of like you're making my decision for me. Good enough. So how would you like this to go down?"
"Quick and painless seems to be the standard. So let's go with that." He finally realized he still has the shotgun in his hands. He chuckles as he tosses it aside. "Fat lot of good that would do me now."
"I can do you one better, Jim. Given our rapport, I can take you to the brink of ecstacy as you die. You'll have a good death, and it will be painless, even pleasurable." Alf extends his hand.
Jim takes the hand and steps closer, extending his neck.
"Nice meeting you, Jim."
"Wish I could say the same, Alf."
|
I stared in horror at the... *thing* before me. I watched as the once small, limp form of a child stood up and began examining his blood soaked hoodie.
“Damn, so that’s what it’s like getting shot through the heart?” He muttered as he rubbed the exact spot where my bullet had pierced through his chest. “I mean, it’s kinda better than being stabbed because it’s quick but at the same time too much would be somewhat of a problem...”
He continued his one-way conversation, all the while I was frozen in shock.
I had never been enlisted to take out a child before; as a rule of thumb, most assassins leave civilians as out of their business. It was one thing to take down a war general or CEO. It was another to actively hunt down the local baker.
Naturally this included children. Employers knew that it wasn’t so easy to get away with child murder and so hardly ever asked for it. The only other time I recall someone having an underage target was my buddy Luke and his was a late teens girl who bullied someone into suicide.
I almost laughed out loud when I first read the description for my latest hit: “Gender- Male, Age-10/11, Name- N/A, Description: 4ft, white, blonde hair and red eyes, level S, approach with extreme caution.”
I asked my employer where the real hit sheet was and was told that I held it in my hands. I had taken one last read over the paper, raised a brow at the miniature fortune that I would be paid for this job and accepted it.
I found and followed the kid from a 5 metre distance down into an alleyway filled with discarded heroin needles and dumped furniture. Halfway through though, the kid suddenly turned around, looked at me with a bored expression and sighed.
“Look, if you’re gonna try to kill me too just hurry up about it; I have got other stuff going on asides from “be a target”.” They said this with so much exasperation, as though they had been through this a million times.
I had stood shocked for a second. Then I had pulled out my handgun and fired at his heart the next. There had been a look of surprise on the kids face, before the force of the bullet pulled him backwards onto the tarmac. Having completed the job, I had turned to leave when I heard his voice give an exclamation.
“You know,” I snapped out of my thoughts as the boy started talking directly to me. I gasped as I realised that while I had been spacing out, he had somehow pulled the bloody bullet from his chest and was now examining it in his left hand. “You know, it really is impressive you could remove your gun from its place and manage to hit me square where a human heart would be.”
“However...”, I flinched as the kid turned on me, his crimson eyes blazing and his mildly annoyed but intrigued tone changing to a deep snarl. “I can’t very well have you running around telling people I’m here. Sorry, but I just can’t be bothered with the aggravation right now.”
His left hand flickered for a second and I grunted at a sudden pain in my chest. I looked down at my left side and saw a hole in my leather jacket that hadn’t been there when I put it on this afternoon.
Feeling something warm beginning to soak into my under shirt, I looked up at the kid and saw that the bullet, the very same one I had shot him with, had disappeared from his hand.
I fell to my knees, the life draining from me. I looked up in time to see the silhouette of a child walking away from me, casually scratching their neck as calmly as though they were taking a stroll down the street, as though they hadn’t just committed murder.
I collapsed forward, the taste of blood hot on my tongue. I drew one, last, rasping breathe, and closed my eyes to the blinding light of probably a nearby street lamp.
***
In the nearby woods, a small boy with blonde hair and red eyes was stood in a lonely clearing. He glanced around for a few moments, muttered to himself “the next place better be the right one.”, and raised his arms to the sky. Immediately, a piercing white light engulfed him, sending a beacon of pure energy into the darkness of dusk. The surrounding wood was illuminated for a few seconds, before the light began to disperse and reveal that the boy within it had completely disappeared.
| 2019-08-29T20:06:05 | 2019-08-29T19:35:39 | 245 | 59 |
[WP] Whenever you saw a dead animal in the road, you'd say a little prayer and send them to Heaven. Upon your death, you arrive in Heaven and are immediately swarmed with 1000's of various critters delighted to see you. You hear a booming voice cry out with irritation, "This is YOUR fault."
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"Be at peace."
My Mom always said this small prayer any time we would see an animal in the road. No matter dog, rat, deer, snake, raccoon, or the smallest bird that no one would think twice about. If there was a poor little creature which had its life cut short by some person who was too busy rushing through their own, she would always pray.
Soon after getting my license and my own car I found myself saying this same prayer. Maybe it was out of habit, maybe I thought that it is something everyone does, maybe because if I didn't then who would? Either way I never missed. Every animal, every time.
Years went by, and even though I would get some weird looks from passengers, or ignorant comments by people who seem to think that the lives of creatures other than themselves have no meaning, I still prayed for them.
All but one.
"This is YOUR fault!"
The words hit me hard, and so did the memories of an elk suddenly jumping in front of my car. The memories of pulling the wheel harder than I ever have before. The memories of a brown flash moving across my windshield. The memories of nothing at all.
"I don't understand, what is my fault?"
I slowly begin to notice the thousands of different animals greeting me, as if they know me. Not just as if they know me, but thankful to know me.
"No not you, I will be with you in a moment."
I was confused to say the least, but happy. As soon as I realized that I know these animals too. For some reason I can remember each and every one. I remember the small raccoon off of I-5, the beautiful porcupine next to Highway 41, the opossum I buried next to Third Street.
"This is your fault. You know it is a special occasion today and I was under the impression that you would behave!"
I now notice a man speaking to a very beautiful grey and white colored cat. Smokey. My cat. The one that ran away when I was 8 years old, the one I remember seeing from the school bus window a few blocks from my house. I knew it was her that day.
The man was scolding Smokey for tearing up a piece of furniture that I'm assuming was for me to sit on. She was always a feisty one.
He turned away after giving her a little pat on the head, no one can stay mad looking at that face.
"Hello! These wonderful creatures are only here to give you a warm welcome, then they're back off to their own pieces of heaven. You are the reason they are here and they seem to be very thankful for that. Except Smokey seems to forget that not everything is a scratching post, my apologies."
He turned to look at Smokey, but she was already preoccupied with playing around on something else.
"Anyways, feel free to formally meet all these fine animals and enjoy yourself!"
"Oh! And one last thing, someone very close to you must have the same tradition because we just received a new guest."
At that moment the most beautiful Elk I have ever seen walked through the crowd to rest it's head on my lap. It seemed upset, but with a few words I knew would calm him.
"Be at peace."
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The voice echoes in my ears long after it rumbles like tumultuous thunder in the sky. The swarm of happy beasts surrounding me suddenly parts to allow a pack of three dogs to walk towards me.
I do not remember their faces, but a sudden lurching feeling in my stomach tells me I have known them. Like some of the animals I recognize praying for before laying to rest, I know I must have buried these three as well. The leader of the pack is a Greyhound. Behind him is a coffee coloured Cocker Spaniel and a Siberian Husky with eyes as gray as death.
"This is your fault," the Greyhound repeats. "We were never meant to be here!"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"This heaven, is your construct. We beasts of nature have never known it. To us, Death is only peace after a life we accepted. You should have left us as we were."
"I... I don't understand. This is heaven! Wouldn't you be happy here?" I ask, aghast.
"No, because life came at a cost to us," says the Husky in a low growl. "Before sending the beasts to their lives, we were all given a tempting choice. We could choose one trait about ourselves to surrender, and live a short, happy life as mortals and never know the feeling of that trait again. But once we accepted this condition to give up a trait, we would obviously not be allowed in Heaven after we died. But if we somehow we did find ourselves back again, we would be given our trait back and live with it for the rest of our lives."
"I... I don't understand..."
"Cats... They chose to give up their sense of emotional attachment. In life, they know only fleeting love, but never one that binds them to a place or person," said the Greyhound. "You prayed for the turtle crushed under a wheel.. a being that wished away its agility so it wouldn't burn excess energy carrying its home around with it. When you wished the cats back, they found their sense of belonging, and sat in wait for you, having discovered a part of themselves they had almost forgotten. You wished back the turtle, who died an excruciating death as it tried to move away from the vehicle it saw from miles away. Rediscovering speed means a little more pain everyday, but a life full of vigour is a life lived to its fullest. You wished back the hen that gave up its ability to fly so that it could live closer to humankind. You even brought back the snake, who was elated to rediscover its hearing, which it gave up for not wanting to live in a life full of lies."
"But isn't that wonderful? Finding a part of yourself to feel whole again?" I ask.
"Not to us," said the Cocker Spaniel softly. "When the dogs deliberated, we found the perfect foil. We wanted to be the finest a man knew. We wanted to know what it was like to love selflessly. We wanted to give and receive unwavering faith, even if that came at a cost to ourselves. We wanted a life which ended with knowing we gave all of our hearts, holding nothing back. And we got it."
"Which... which trait did you give up?"
"Our pride," snarled the Greyhound.
Thank you for reading!
More at r/whiteshadowthebook
| 2019-09-02T23:59:04 | 2019-09-02T22:50:43 | 2,636 | 346 |
[WP] Your latest assignment is to write an essay extensively detailing how a great historical tragedy could have been avoided entirely. Your professor skims through each paper as he collects them. One stops him. "Yes, that's it. Good, I'll try that this time." He then jogs out of the room.
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8 AM. I hate getting up in the mornings.
I hate classes. College would be awesome if there weren't any classes. Hanging with friends, going to Taco Bell at 2 in the morning, that would be the life.
But classes are the worst. My least favorite is definitely my history class. 10:10, and my professor sucks. He doesn't care about anything, he's always sitting there just showing documentaries. The only thing I like about his class is that he always leaves early randomly which means we can leave quickly.
Yesterday, we literally sat there the whole time while he read through our essays. It was kind of cool, we were supposed to say how we'd avoid a historical tragedy. Just wish it was apart of a more interesting class.
He sat there, thumbing through papers, clearly not even reading them. Sometimes he looked like he didn't even look at every paper. I wonder why he's even a professor sometimes.
Suddenly, he took a long pause. His brow furrowed a bit even, which is the most amount of emotion I've seen from him all semester. But, it was only for a moment, and he soon went back to aimlessly flipping through. So boring.
Anyway, I should probably start getting ready. Don't wanna be late today because we have a quiz over the chapter. Honestly, this is another stupid part of the class. He always quizzes us over pointless history events that there's no way we'd need to know. Like this quiz, it's over how Abraham Lincoln had a pleasant evening at a theater. I really hate this class.
|
"Yes, that's it! Good I'll try that this time" Professor Hamlet said
It was my assignment he was looking at, it was about how to stop 9/11, i just really threw an idea that i thought could work in theory.
"What do you mean" almost the entire class said simultaneously.
"Oh if it works, it wont matter to you" Hamlet said as he started jogging toward the door
the class started asking questions-to many for me to hear- then Professor Hamlet stopped right before he exited the classroom like he forgot something
he turned around and pointed to me and said "Ray, come with me, this is your idea after all."
before i could respond he yanked me with him, out the classroom
"stop!",we did.
"what?"
"where are we going?"
"to stop nine eleven"
"what?"
"you heard me."
i was at a loss of words, Mr. Hamlet saw this gave me an empathetic look with a smile and said
"look, long story short, I can time travel, and I've been trying to stop tragedies because I wanted to see what would happen, and you're going to help me with this"
with that we were on our way. After awhile of me trying to get words we stopped outside.
"So, you ready?"Hamlet asked.
"uh,uh no?"
"well too bad, we don't have all day" he laughed at his own joke.
with that, everything around us was turning white, and then we started fading into the cockpit on a plane, heading towards, the Twin Towers...
| 2019-10-03T19:28:49 | 2019-10-03T14:30:56 | 70 | 47 |
[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.”
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The dark lord sits on his throne. He looks...amused? Why does he look amused? I have a gun pointed at his head. His hands are empty. I could put six shots through his right eye before he reached half way to his weapon. And he knows that. So what is so funny?
"So you've come hero. But before you kill me, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die."
A little girl peeks from behind his throne. Her mere sight takes my breath away. Beautiful eyes, brown hair, a round face with a hint of a dimple on one cheek. If someone could have taken the innocence of an angel and distilled it into human form, she would have been the result. My life never had much room for romance or a family but I have never wished to have a daughter more than I do right now.
She is walking towards me. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears. "Please," she whispers. "Please don't kill Grandpa."
I feel like I am worse than the madman sitting smugly on his throne. His chuckles are filling my ears. He knows he is winning. My resolve is weakening as I look up into those soulful eyes. Look up? When did I kneel on the ground? When did she put her arms around my neck? Why is my gun on the floor and why am I hugging her?
"Dear child, I HAVE to kill him...please..."
"B...but why?" she sobs.
The room is frigid. I hug her little warm body closer as my eyes meet the tyrant. Our gazes lock. My gun lies cold on the floor. And he has already struck me with the greatest weapon on his side; pure, unadulterated love. I find words failing me as I think of reasons to convince a seven-year old girl why I need to remove from this world, the only remaining family she has.
"Because...he..." I proceed to whisper into her ear. She stiffens. She loosens her arms around my neck, pulls back and stares in my eyes, searching for deceit.
"No...." she slowly shakes her head in disbelief. "No, no, no!!!!" she cries and my heart cries with her. "That's not true! He DIDN'T! You're lying!"
I say nothing. My eyes say everything.
"No!!!!" she screams and leaps for my gun. I do the same. She is smaller and surprisingly fast. I am too late. She grasps it and fires. And fires. And fires.
Six shots. Through the right eye. Would you look at that.
The demon is smiling. The smile of a victor.
But it is a frozen smile. He topples over and falls face first onto the ground, blood pooling around his head.
The angel is shaking. Her breaths are shallow, rapid. Her face is flushed with fury. She looks back at me. Her face is calm and serene.
She steps closer. The gun in her hand is pointing at the floor. It probably has four more bullets left. The hand holding it is tense, twitchy.
She is right next to me. "And how do YOU do it?" she asks.
I look at her. "Gif, obviously."
"Obviously," she says with narrowed eyes. But her lips are turning up into the beginning of a smile. She hands me back my weapon. I stand up. I turn around and start walking. A little warm hand grabs mine and tiny steps join me as we head...home.
|
The kid looks about 10.
With large, round eyes and long, silvery hair, it is easy to recognize her lineage. The girl would grow into a fine beauty, provided she survives all of this.
And then the absurdity of this hits me, and I burst into laughter. An incredulous, almost maniacal laugh:
"You have a granddaughter? You? The Dark Lord of Evil, commander of the 666 Legions of Hell, wielder of the 72 Archdevils, a granddaddy? This is hilarious!"
The dry laugh echoes in the empty hall. Burn marks on the marble floor mark the place where I have slain Lucifer, Astarte and Bael, the Dark Lord's closest aides. When I finally regain composure, I turn to my mortal enemy, wounded, cornered, at my feet.
"Coming to think of it, this situation feels quite familiar, doesn't it? Did you not slaughter my village, leaving me as the only witness? Hey, kid, tell me, how does it feel to see your grandpa like this, huh?"
The girl reels back behind the marble pillar, shivering. I plunge my blade through the Dark Lord's leg, and make my way towards the pillar. Capturing the kid was easy. She was slow, untrained, and light. I throw her down on the steps of the dais, right under her grandpa's feet, and wait as she crawls backward into her grandpa's arms:
"You wanna save your old man, kid?" I ask, tentative. I will give this kid a chance I never had. "Do you want to help your granddaddy, huh?".
A silent nod.
I pull out the dagger I have as a backup weapon, and toss it at their feet. No explanation is needed. The little girl looks at the dagger, then looks at me. I cross my arms and wait. What will she do?
The little girl stands up, and takes the dagger. With all the strength in that little body, she plunges the dagger into my body. A sharp pain assaults my sense. She's attacked. Blood is welling up int the injury. The girl twists the knife, pulls out, and stabs again. And again. Strength leaves my leg as I slump down on the marble floor. Only then did she stop. The girl's eyes are filled with a burning resolve. It's childish, but it worked. She has defended her grandpa.
Or so the little girl thought.
Grabbing her hand, I twist the dagger back into my possession. Lunging up the stairs, I plunge it through the throat of the Dark Lord. Horror fills his face as he lays, life gushing out of the two of us. I have finished my task. The screams of the little girl fills the hall, as her grandfather lays dying. With great difficulty I roll over, and stare at the ceiling. There's no coming back from this, I know it.
"Why? Why did you do this, accursed hero, why?" Asked the little girl.
"Because he must pay for his crimes, like I must pay for mine." I say with great effort: "And to end this unending loop of aggression and vengeance."
The Dark Lord has a ring on his right index finger. Lemegeton, the Command Seal. I gesture towards it, breathing out what 's most likely going to be my last words: "Hate and violence never gets you anywhere. Remember that, and could you do me a favor and finish me off with this thing here? I' m tired."
| 2019-12-11T22:07:01 | 2019-12-11T20:13:37 | 39 | 21 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work.
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I stepped out of the door, carrying the broken body of the villain before my chest. The former hostages stumbled behind me into the daylight, some still under shock, some relieved, all disbelieving of what just had happened. I stumbled under the weight of the corpse and had to set it down at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the building. For a moment I stayed kneeling in front of it, searching for something to say, but my curse refused to whisper me a solution any more.
"I'm... sorry." I finally decided on, flatly. I didn't regret telling him what he had needed to hear, and I didn't regret that he did what he had to do. It was just... "I wish it didn't have to end this way."
I got up and stepped over the dead body, walking through the crowd that surrounded the library. Nobody tried to stop me, in fact they seemed to be afraid of me. "I really hope she never turns evil" a civilian whispered to their neighbor as I went past them. My eyes lingered for a moment on them. *Do you cheat on your wife because of the thrill, or because you feel her interest in you waning? You should really be a better role model to...* I quickly averted my gaze and accelerated my steps. Only a few more meters and I could leave those people behind me and enjoy the evening home, in soltitude...
Somebody jostled me and sent me tumbling to the ground. I slowly pushed myself up and searched for the perpetrator. It wasn't exactly hard - Muscle Man was difficult to miss, considering his size of a bit over two meter and the way he presented his almost naked upper body. Oh, also the way he spat on the ground right next to me. "Whatcha doin' ain't real superheroing, girl." he told me, grinning in a positively infuriating way. *Of course you consider violence the only real way to solve problems, considering it's the only thing you're actually good in. Don't you think that if you had some other abilites, you maybe would have been able to save...* I looked to the ground to interrupt the stream of whispers. "I'm sorry you feel that way." I said instead. "Can I go now?"
Muscle Man grunted, but let me pass, apparently satisfied. I quickly fled the scene, hiding the tears in my eyes. I didn't want to hurt people, but in the end... hurting people was the only thing I was actually good in.
|
Shit. She couldn't believe it. Which one of her fellow heroes had written it? Her stomach sank. Didn't they understand? She was born with the ability, and had trained through trials and sufferings that many of them could not imagine, no matter how tragic their backstory. The very same power that gave her her abilities to heal, comfort, nurture, were the very ones that gave her the ability to cut the coldest of hearts, those reptilian brained foes who were fluent in the most depraved of psychological warfare, to the core. Her wit, her writ, her wretched tongue could be the deadliest of blades. But oh, the amount of compassion and care it required to wield her weapon.
Her fellow heroes were predominantly male. The gifts they developed, and strengthened, were usually different from hers. Psychic warriors were rarer than even female heroes, and that was saying something. The female lineages had been demonized, and hunted nearly to extinction, although they were now quietly on the rise. Paladins were ALWAYS male, as they required both the gifts of the psychic warrior, and the Herculean one. To have a female Paladin, and one who had descended from Bards, Healers, and Seers to boot? Well, such a thing was never expected. It was a lot for the male heroes to adjust to, she supposed. After all, many of them had descended from Hercules himself, from some forgotten Berserker, from Arthur. She was something rare, and they either feared her, wished to posses and control her, or simply paid her little regard.
She wasn't offended by this. Not really. She was more saddened than anything, although she new it was better this way. Being perceived in such light would protect her, for she didn't want anyone to know the truth; she was a Duality. The very few Dualities that had existed were either ostracized like Lilith and the Morrigan, or purified like Freya and Persephone. Only a fellow Duality could see and understand one as a whole....but such things no longer existed. She was alone in this Realm, and that was that.
She blinked at the words on the screen before her, read them again. Her interest was peaked, and like the Feline that is her other form, she regarded the seemingly harmless, and perhaps concerned?, post before her with curiosity. Her eyes narrowed. Who *are* you, she wondered. She inhaled, closing her eyes, zeroing in on the energy imprint left tangled in the InterWeb. Connection engaged, she began to write her reply....
Edit: typos
| 2020-02-25T14:36:55 | 2020-02-25T12:17:21 | 151 | 66 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work.
|
"Hey," said Excellar, or Antony when he wasn't wearing the suit.
I looked up from my work to see him standing in the doorway with a dark look on his face. "Hey, Tony. What's up?" I looked him over and knew, as always, thirteen things I could say that would make him start weeping like the child that, at our hearts, we all are. However, I was surprised when I noticed a fourteenth. I almost said it as I realised it, but managed to turn it into a cough.
He all but glared at me. The fourteenth thing hung in the space between us, his impotent rage at what our relationship had become. He hated me for having power over him. He hated himself for hating me. He hated that he needed me. He hated that, despite what my ability let me do to people, I was essentially, and by his own standards, a better person than him. "We need you."
I took a deep breath and stood up. "Who is it this time?"
"Thanator," he said, no longer willing to meet my steady gaze, "I'll be waiting with Aegith in the 'thopter." He turned and walked away.
I sighed. I knew thirteen, no fourteen, ways to break the man, but I had no idea what to say to get him to forgive me for my existence. I went to the rack on the wall and put on my 'super suit,' a set of light, almost decorative armor, and a full head mask, to protect me from the mundane threat of being revealed as the man behind the mask of The Shadow. Before you comment, I didn't pick the name. It was one the newspapers had come up with after I had been seen at a previous battle.
I climbed into the Stryx's ornithopter and strapped myself in in silence. Aegith and Excellor didn't even look at me. We flew in silence, only the sound of the engines until we got closer to the battle site. It was visible as a tower of smoke well before we grew close.
An alarm sounded. Antony hit a button. "Mchana, could you...?" Aegith put a hand onto the panel next to her and a blue glow flowed out from her hand. It swept smoothly across the 'thopter and a moment later there was the muffled sound of two explosions hitting the outside of the barrier.
It was exactly the sort of moment where, if I weren't there, they'd have made one of their witty one-liners. Instead, there was only a heavy silence. I looked once at each of them and then closed my eyes to try and psych myself up for what was to come. I could push it away for a while but when we got there, I'd have to do something I hated.
We landed and stepped outside. Excellar led us down the ramp and over blasted ground to where Thanator stood. He was so absorbed in his gloating that he didn't even notice us until we were practically in spitting distance. When he did, he turned around with a smile, anticipating new victims, but the smile faded as he saw me. I sagged a little inside. *All smiles die that look upon me.*
He started backpedalling. "No, no, no, no, no. Shut him up!" screamed Thanator, "Pins, don't let him talk to me."
Pins, a jester in motley who seemed to idolize Thanator for some reason, pranced forward and swung a club at my head. Aegith's hand on my back turned cold and my world went quiet and blue as her shield covered me, protecting me from the attack, and then returned to normal so I could speak. It was a dangerous game we played but I could not speak from within the shield.
"Butterscotch," I said, and Pins stopped in mid-giggle. He stared at me for an eternal moment and I saw something inside him break, even more than it already had been. His eyes stared into me and I felt his anguish, a silent scream wondering why I could be so cruel. He crumpled into the dust. I made it one step before his muffled sob broke my will to fight. They weren't evil, just a bit broken, and I was only breaking them more.
"Brakash! Petimor! Somebody..." said Thanator. He looked around and then picked up the comatose body of Nightingale, Melody to those who knew her, and held her out like a shield.
I looked at her and knew almost 300 things I could say to destroy her if she had been awake. Seeing her treated so cruelly almost broke me instead. She was so beautiful and broken. Behind her head I saw the glow of one of his death beams charging.
"Please," I said, "Don't hurt her."
Thanator paused and then smiled. "You leave, and I won't."
My ability changed register and I frowned. He would. He was too broken to let her live. "I leave, and I know you will."
He took another step back as though I had hit him physically. It was a light blow compared to what I could do. "Shut up! Stay out of my head, freak." The old insult stung against old scars.
"It won't help," I said, sending him back another step, "Killing her won't help. Killing me won't help. You could kill every living creature on this planet and it won't make the pain go away." His face contorted. I looked into his eyes and felt his pain, the stranglehold his past held on him.
"There's only one way to make the pain go away."
His face twisted even further.
"And there's only one person who can do it."
He shook. "Please, no."
"You know it's true," I said, stepping forward. I went to him, passing Melody, trying not to think of what he might do to her, and held my arms out. He didn't resist. I hugged him.
After a long silence, he dropped Melody to the ground, turning the now fully charged death beam, ever so slowly. It moved downward, toward me, and then upward toward the side of his own head. "Thank you." He fired.
Edit: mistyped spellings
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The pavement where Adrian just stood was no more than moon craters and plasma at this point. Overseer sharpened his gaze as he, almost effortlessly, levitated toward the remnants of the Starbucks in the corner of 5th and Jayton.
"Nice manouver, kid. But you can't protect all of them."
He was right. The psychotic bastard was right, and Arian was painfully aware. In a pure 1-on-1-situation, he could probably hold his own against Overseer's telekinesis and matter manipulation. Just do his thing. But he couldn't go all out here. There would be absolute carnage.
The lady next to him was passed out under a pile of bricks. Blood was slowly seeping out from a cut on her dust-covered temple, but she seemed to be breathing normally. Whoever has been inside the Starbucks when it collapsed was probably in a far worse state. Clenching his teeth, Adrian slowly moved backward against the part of the main wall that was still intact, all while maintaining firm eye contact with the hoovering beast suspended 12 feet in the air in the middle of the intersection. Overseer tended to speak like a cultivated warlock, but was more like an animal for destruction, targeting fear.
Look away once, and face sub-atomic destruction.
Feeling the wall behind him, Adrian could detect no less than 17 heartbeats on the other side. Had the attack so far been without casualties? What a miracle! But how-
"It was all part of the scheme, kid. They will benefit me later. But focus on the matter at hand. I asked you a simple question: if the hand that feeds you delivers a blow to your cheek, do you take it like a good boy or server the hand at the wrist?"
Adrian could feel the dryness of his mouth making him lose composure like a desert storm building.
"And what the fuck kind of question is that, Over?"
"A simple one of loyalty versus self-afficacy. And a very urgent one at that. You are well aware of the predicaments of your contract. The limits set on you by corporate lobbying. The fact that Big 3 are responsible for more deaths and quantifiable suffering than all of us "un-contracted" combined. You know this, yet you remain complacent. Why? That is my question"
Adrians tounge was now welded to the roof of his mouth. He felt the cold sweat creeping from his pores, and the sickness clogging his trachea.
"You agree. I can feel it. So why? Why remain in line, when you can fight! Reclaim the world, reclaim your fam-"
From around the corner, this little man appeared like a train stopping at it's station just on time. He wore a black suit with an almost liquid surface, red hat and nothing on his feet. He carried a dictaphone in his left chest pocket and a notebook in his right hand.
Overseer looked down on the gentleman, who couldn't be even half his size, and scoffed.
"What they won't resort to these days..."
Adrian suddenly realized he could speak again.
"What on Earth are you doing here!? This is a Code Red Zone! Please sir, stand back immediately, and let me handle this. I'm a professional. I know what to do."
The old man blinked, and then smiled. He opened his mouth, with lips as thin as razor blades:
"ImPulse, great job securing the perimeter. I will take it from here."
whereupon he turned to Overseer, who was now noticeably annoyed by the arrival of this unknown creature.
"Hey there, Floaty. How's it going up there?"
"Floaty? That's rich, you little imp. Did you come here to find out what going through a quantum loop feels like?"
The little man smiled, but Adrian noticed that the razor lips seemed to cut ever so slightly sharper at the corners.
"No. I came to read you a verse. Hear it, Radovan Turner."
And then it began. Like out of nowhere. As if a rainbow had shattered and all of the fragments where pushed in reverse through your iris to painstakingly be conjoined again; a marriage never meant to last forced to parade once more in a ghostly apparition before jarred spectators. It was the death of timelines and the kidnapping of entropy.
It was, simply, binary.
"100111010001101100101111000010110010111001011000101011100100111111100100100100001100000011011101101010..."
The manically precise chanting seemed to be approaching light speed. It only took Radovan "Overseer" Turner the fraction of a second of confusion the spell allowed on his face to realize what was happening. Suddenly, his whole life was dissappearing into a black hole in the back of his mind: the Boom-box Brotherhood, the ragú nights when papa was home on a temporary leave, the flash cards that got him into Uni, Eleonore Carruthers, the house in Maine, the car loan, the first miscarriage, the war, the funeral, the layover, the hard work, the first day of sun after the depression, stealing waxed apples on the market to survive, the day he broke his promise to mama and used his powers for survival, the day he used them for sport, the day he figured something out, the day he... the day- what was it... today... HELP! d-r-o-w-n-i-n-g i-n-s-i-d-e... w h a t w a s I.... W H O
The code had reversed his entropy. He was now just a husk of flesh, forever out of sync with it's time, doomed to slowly decompose as his final moments of utter dementia played on repeat in the empty halls of his mind.
The old man stopped the dictaphone, logged something in his notebook and turned to Adrian.
"Alright, now that's taken care of. Well done, ImPulse! I will see to it that you are promoted. A dispatch squad will deal with the area. Lets get you cleaned up and fed!"
As Adrian walked through the intersection, he looked up at Overseer's body, now dangling lifelessly mid-air. Suddenly, something hit his cheek. He instinctively touched it with his finger and looked at the tip.
A small droplet of rainbow-hued water suspended itself on the edge of his nail.
Adrian let his eyes wander into it, and as he burrowed his gaze further, he could hear The Man reporting to someone in the background:
"No, that's not gonna be a problem. They have met before, and Pulse has never risen. He's a good boy.
He'll fall in line."
| 2020-02-25T16:08:43 | 2020-02-25T14:34:20 | 78 | 53 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to know what is buried beneath your feet. You have worked for years with geologists finding lost cities and treasures. Today is the first time you have ever said “We should not dig here.”
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"We've got a missing person, and just found their vehicle off the 65, get your hind parts in gear!" Detective Sanders barked at me. Why today... why this case... It could've been any other job, and I would've been thrilled to have him yell at me like that. Perhaps thrilled is the wrong description, but at the least I know I would not be so terrrified.
I began my job with the police department last fall. Being an archeology hobbyist with a 'knack' for knowing what's underground made me popular with the local museum, but things really turned around when we found the dumping ground of a now incarcerated serial killer. My fame came with his infamy. The department practically begged to hire me on as a consultant, and willing to make a buck while doing some good for the community seemed like a good gig to have. Besides, the fame didn't hurt too bad either.
Though, I wasn't universally beloved. There were a few detectives that 'didn't believe in such hocus pocus' or 'believed in doing police work the old fashioned way'. Detective Sanders was probably the most outspoken critic of my methods, even daring to call me the real serial killer! And my streak of knowing right where to dig had built rapport where it was lacking, except with him... he was still as much a stone wall as when we'd first met. And of all the detectives on this case it had to be him...
"What's the matter with you?" he demands, as I again dab the sweat on my brow with the already damp handkerchief. "Oh nothing" I stutter, utterly failing to think of an excuse. If only I was as good at lying as I am at knowing what's six feet under. "I think I may have a fever coming on" I finally conceive, hoping it'll get me out of this. "Well toughen up sally," he curtly replied, "We're almost there, and you know I wouldn't bring you out here without a reason."
My fingers are crossed into a pretzel, hoping this is somewhere else, hoping this is a different patch of woods off the 65... And as he radioes in to his partner, who's running running behind as usual, I mentally fumble with a plan to get out of this. As we arrive at the scene, my heart seems to take the place of the other- it stop beating and sinks into the ground. Everything here is vividly familiar. How did they find it so fast? I have to think of something.
Sanders walks me through the faint trail of blood and drag marks as far as he can follow. "It can't be too far from here, now use your powers Copperfield" he demands. Panicked, and empty of any rational guise, I am left to tell him the truth. "We can't dig here" I softly state. "We found a shovel, by the highway, with the car and the victim's blood, even with a heaven sent trail leading to here. So please, tell me, why the HECK not" he impatiently retorts, turning around to face his gun in my gloved hand. "Because I need to make this look like an accident"
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For literal years I've been helping these geologists find crap that they don't even study. They just take a few pictures of it or they take the samples to some third-world-museum in America only to be archived.
I always cooperated with them, because without cooperation, Murphy's Law kicks in. But this time... this time is different.
I thought this place was familiar for some reason, so I asked where we were.
"Some place in central Spain... I think a few miles from Madrid." The chief responded.
"Ah, okay. Let's be careful, alright?" I asked him.
"Yeah, let's watch our step."
We were walking through a flat stretch of land, me finding only small fossils that "looked cool." They all were like the other fossils we found last week in Barcelona. That all changed when we found a decently sized, maybe 10-20 meters, crater. I was told to walk in. But this feeling itched me that I shouldn't go in. As I descended deeper in, the itch became a sting in my arm.
I knew we shouldn't be here. The sting evolved to a full on numbness. The numbness to pain. The pain to sickness. The sickness... to radioactivity.
You see, sometime in the Cold War, an American fighter jet collided with a tanker (probably Soviet) midair, and four hydrogen bombs dropped down below in Spain. One of them was found and stored away, but the other three still remain hidden. That is, until now.
The radioactivity made me fall to the ground. As I tried desperately to not roll down to the center, two men came to help me back to my feet.
"EVERYONE GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HERE!!!" I screamed with full confidence. "THIS IS A NUCLEAR BOMB WE ARE TALKING ABOUT!!! A freakING NUCLEAR BOMB!!!" (I don't like swearing too much, but I was in FULL panic mode)
The chief was confused and panicked. "Wh-WHAT???"
"GET ALL THE MEN AWAY FROM HERE!!! CONTACT THE SPANISH AND AMERICAN GOVERNMENTS!!! EVACUATE THE AREA-"
"Dude, calm the hell down!" The chief demanded. "We don't really need to do too much."
I took a deep breath. "Yeah... I guess I overreacted."
"Alright. Guys, go take a look."
"WAIT WHA-"
"Yes boss!" the rest of the men responded.
I pulled up a map on my phone and booked it to Madrid, hoping that I meet someone who speaks English and Spanish to warn the government.
"HEY!!! Where do you think you're going?!"
"TO GET THE AUTHORITIES!!!" I ran off screaming.
So far, to my knowledge, they haven't even touched the bomb. Authorities were warned by my screaming, so biked to where I was running from. The last thing that happened between that and me writing this was a cool car speeding towards the officers. I assumed to meet whoever was causing a mess. I'll update if I can.
UPDATE: I saw the guys again, but this time in police cars. I also booked tickets back to my hometown in Florida. I hope it's a flawless flight.
I think I'm going to start my own geology business.
| 2020-04-04T22:21:15 | 2020-04-04T18:10:26 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Every time there is a thunderstorm your father ushers you inside and waits on the porch with his gun, your mother says he's just gone a bit crazy after the war, but you've seen what lurks in the clouds too.
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"Get inside, Aaron. Don't worry, everything's gonna be fine, I've gotta make sure we're safe."
He does this every time. Stands outside as the thunder rages overhead. Thunderstorms are dangerous on Venus, but I never really understood how he thought a shotgun would help. My mother didn't either. Still doesn't. She just tells me we have to tolerate the strange things he does ever since the clockwork sentient attacked.
But then I saw what lurks in the clouds. And I understand why he stands guard outside our house every time a storm passes overhead, manning a dangerous post.
The storms don't form in the upper atmosphere. They begin far below the floating island we call home, down in the murky Deep. Storms are common down there, I always heard from the dwarves who lower themselves to the surface for the valuable soil and metal. Sometimes they get big enough that they rise to our level, threatening the lives of every one in their path. I heard from a traveler that an entire island was once destroyed by a storm.
But storms aren't the only thing down there in the Deep. The dwarves tell of fleeting shadows that appear and vanish in the blink of an eye in front of the window of the elevator, barely visible through the perilous clouds. They all know that something lurks in the clouds. But they don't know what.
My father does.
It must have first appeared during the attack of the gear-born, clockwork robots built by the Sentient. My mother and I were cowering behind the city walls, along with most other farmers and factory-folk. But my father, with all other able-bodied men, was outside the walls fighting the horde. A storm made the event all the more dramatic, and that was when Dad saw the beast.
The second time, I saw it too. A storm was drifting unusually close to the island of Vernis, and as usual, Dad stood guard outside the house, shotgun in hand. I wanted to know what Dad was so afraid of, and had creeped outside the house to crouch behind him, unseen and unheard. My father, usually so stoic, was unusually jumpy, starting at every wind that blew, every lightning bolt that struck some cloud a thousand miles away. The lightning was almost the only thing visible through the thick cloud that enveloped the world around us, blotting out anything more than 10 meters away. That was when the beast appeared.
Dad saw it before I did. I noticed when his jumpiness vanished, and he raised his gun, seemed to focus every ounce of his being in one direction. I followed that direction, and saw only blackness until a flash of lightning illuminated the predator in the clouds. One half second of light was only enough time to reveal the large, swooping wings that held the beast aloft. Another unveiled the long, reed-like tail. Finally, the third flash saw the creature approaching, wings folded as it dived towards the ground. A high-pitched screech filled our ears as the beasts dark face filled our vision.
"Shoot!" I yelled and instantly regretted it, thinking that Dad would be distracted by my voice. But even I could barely hear my voice above the harsh winds and thunder. The beast continued its approach, 30 meters, 20 meters, only barely visible as moving shadow slightly darker than the rest of the cloud, and the whole time, the mysterious screech continues to gain pitch and volume. Finally, as its monstrous face broke the cloud barrier, Dad pulled the trigger, releasing his own thunder directly into the beasts face. The powerful bullet plowed into the monster, knocking its head to the side. Opening its mouth, a powerful lightning bolt shot out of its mouth. I screamed in terror as the blast scorched the bare dirt beside our house. And just as quick as it had appeared, the dragon turned and fled into the storm, vanishing from sight in seconds.
I crept inside and spent the night sobbing into Mom's arms. Dad stood out there the rest of the night, which was thankfully uneventful. And now I know what Dad guards us against. The dangers of the storm are not to be taken lightly. A bolt of lightning can blast a house apart, or the winds can tear the fins from a sky-ship. But even aside from the perils of the weather, something else lurks within the clouds.
​
r/TalesFromGringolandia
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Sarah was only seven the day the clouds bled. She didn't remember it so well anymore, except the water that fell was slick like oil and Mom didn't even try to scrub it out of her frock; Mom burned those red stained polka-dots as if cotton was easy to come by. Sarah remembered how the grass around their hilltop home had turned all rusty after the rain -- the same color as the old van that had sat falling apart on the driveway forever.
That was a decade ago. But today, memories she'd forgotten, or tucked away, or that her parents had forced back into her skull, were falling loose again. It was the cloud, dark as the bottom of a well, that was shaking them free. She stood on the porch, unable to even move, and watched it approach.
It had first swallowed the horizon, and now most of Erakus Hill, too. That wasn't a tall hill, but the clouds had plunged down and over it, drowning it from above. Such low clouds.
Too low.
The Claptons lived in a shack near the peak of Erakus. She thought of them there, inside the cold blackness, and it prickled her skin like needles. She knew they were gone, but she didn't know why she knew that. *That's stupid, you're just scared. It's just a cloud.*
What had happened when she was seven? There were pages breezing loose in her mind now that had been stuck together for a long time -- but she couldn't quite order them right, couldn't read the whole story. She remembered the cloud had been black back then, too. That the rain that had followed had been bright, ink-red. There had been screams, too. Lots of them.
But that couldn't be right. Only her family had ever lived on this hill. Just her and Ma and Pa. They'd escaped the rising oceans when Sarah had been a baby, the van left to rust outside their house ever since. It'd just been them. Others, like the Claptons, had come later, by boat.
So who had she heard screaming? It hadn't been Ma or Pa, she was certain of that.
The wind roared as the roiling cloud swarmed itself closer. The rocking chair on the porch behind her creaked and cracked as the wind took it, as it tried to turn its chain until the seat hanged itself.
"Get in the house, Sarah."
Dad. His voice as cold as the air. She hadn't heard him come out the front door. He slotted ammo into a silver shotgun she'd never seen before, then stared his steel eyes at her.
"Where did you get the gun..." she began, but her voice trailed off.
She'd been seven. Had been playing. Playing with someone just a little further up the hill.
Someone.
The cloud had come out of nowhere. They'd been blinded by it. Couldn't see. Just... just held hands. *Don't let go, don't let go* one of them had cried.
Then...
Then... her Dad had fired and the clouds had bled and there was that terrible screaming.
When it stopped, when the clouds cleared, her sister was gone.
S*ister?*
"Get in the house. I won't tell you again."
She'd had a *sister*. And she'd let go of her hand when they'd been inside of the blackness. Slipped away from her fingers as if their hands had become sheets of ice.
Dad had found her as the black haze dispersed, but her sister was gone.
She backed off a step into the porch. The cloud was almost upon them. "What is that thing, Dad?"
"I don't know what it *is*, but I know what it *was*."
He clicked his shotgun together as the darkness lowered itself onto them. She heard a voice. Calling them. A hundred voices, different pitches, different tones, but somehow all the same voice.
Her sister's.
*Join us* it hissed.
She stared at Dad who aimed his shotgun to the sky.
She asked, almost not wanting to know, "What *was* it?"
Her Dad was gone. The blackness had washed over him.
"God," came his voice. "It *was* God. Now it's just fragments of Him."
She heard the muted sound of his shotgun firing against the thick fog, as if a silencer had been fixed to it. Thunder roared a reply.
Then she waited, praying, for the cloud to rain red.
| 2020-05-04T07:03:34 | 2020-05-04T06:44:45 | 96 | 35 |
[WP] There is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations.
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“What news from the front lines, admiral?”
“My liege. It’s…it's not going well.”
The emperor turned from the viewport. "What?"
The admiral exchanges nervous glances with his fellow officers, “Sire. It’s been a bloodbath. Our casualties now number in the tens of millions. The humans are…winning.”
The emperor stormed towards the admiral. “WHAT?”
Around the room, officers took a half-step back and lowered their gaze.
“Explain yourself, admiral. How could the greatest military minds the intergalactic alliance has to offer be defeated by these…piddling humans?”
The admiral sighed. “It turns out the humans were more…prepared than we expected.”
“Prepared? How so?”
“They have been training their youth to fight back against a full-scale planetary attack. Seemingly since birth.”
"Training? How?”
“Via Virtual Reality, my liege.”
“Virtual Reality? They've been running simulations of our attacks?”
“Correct. From what we can deduce, it's a highly advanced combat simulator. I believe the humans call it…BeatSaber.”
“BeatSaber?”
“Yes. The children wear a VR headset and use controllers to cut through colored blocks almost identical to our starfighters.”
The admiral turned back to the hanger window. After a long pause, he said, “Stars above. Did we try sending both red AND blue starfighters?”
“Yes, my liege.”
“And did we send starfighters that could only be destroyed if swiped from a specific direction?”
“Yes.”
“And the fleet attacked in time to popular music? Did they pick a song with a fast tempo? Like Rasputin or Crab Rave?”
“They did.”
“AND?”
“And the humans cut through them like they were nothing. As a matter of fact, they seemed to be almost...dancing in time with the songs.”
A tear ran down four of the emperor's five eyes. “Then all is lost. May the creator have mercy on us all.”
\---
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more
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“End simulation!” I shout. The VR robot I had been sparring with shuts down and disappears instantly. In VR you dont sweat. Or feel hot. In the real world robots take care of us, they feed us, and ensure our vitals are within normal parameters. I walk out of the sparring room. And look at my last set level. “Level 27” It reads. Only three more levels. Then i will be the first to hit the highest level achievable. I take off my shirt exposing my toned sweaty midsection. My sports bra out for the world to see. At this point im too hot to care whether or not people see my bra. Suddenly a message appears on my dashboard, “Warning! Unauthorized entity detected in outer atmosphere! Would you like to leave the simulation?” I click yes. Not many people leave the simulations. There is no reason to. Black surrounds me and then a robot lifts off the VR headset and my eyes struggle to adjust to the bright light around me. Once they do I stand and take a look at my environment. Im in a dark room right behind me is the soft, inviting bed i had been laying in. Other than that there was nothing more besides the door. It took me a while to get used to walking but once I did I asked a nearby robot how to get to the main control center.
Once we got there I actually control panel to access the cameras in the outer atmosphere, over 50 battle space ships were entering our atmosphere and within an hour they would be here. I slammed the emergency button. Simultaneously, every person was woken up and ejected from their VR slumbers. I filled them in quickly and sorted everyone according to simulation specialty and rank.
1. Combat soldiers
2. Medics
3. Strategists
4. Ship pilots
5. Everyone else
Once everyone was sorted we charged.
It was a bloody and gruesome battle but we emerged victorious. Around me, slaughtered alien invaders.
Let me know if u guys want a part two for the aftermath of the battle!! Or if u just want more context and detail.
Edit: how about this, since people (for some reason) want more, if i get to 200 upvotes i will post part 2. If this sounds like i want likes its not. I just want to make sure people actually like this not just saying that.
| 2020-12-25T08:34:21 | 2020-12-25T08:14:18 | 484 | 83 |
[WP] Music has played a special part in war for centuries, since it literally powers up soldiers that hear it. You are a rebel fighting an invading army, but you have a secret weapon. Your people just created heavy metal.
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To the distinguished Master of Human Combat Resonance,
I would like to congratulate you on your success at the Gates. I was indeed worried to hear of the enemys' howling whistles. Such haunted shrieks are sure to bring dread and paranoia, especially within those cracked mountains. But while hallucinations and fear can throw forces off balance, your drums are rhythmic; predictable. With enough committed manpower in a resonant position, the platoon's hearts skipped in time, providing the courage necessary to brave the front line; grimace through the march. The melodies of your horns and flutes carried like arrows in the sky, keeping warriors sharp and aware. These together, and the enemy whistles fell on unaffected ears.
Small divisions of musicians with such instruments have been the pinnacle of HCR, and we have you to thank for its benefits. I know I am a rather new face in the study of Human Combat Resonance, but I'm sure you've heard the rumors. Already, my research team and I have made a breakthrough that may change the course of HCR forever.
We accidentally discovered this due to an accidental electric charge amplifying the chords of an improvised instrument. The sound produced was harsh and discordant, but after some variation, it was found that it had potential to embue any human subject with an amplified version of near any emotion. Some were overcome with sorrow, others disgust, and even raw fear in a few. However, a few volunteer soldiers participated in a routine of hand-to-hand sparring with these tones playing through speakers. Their motivation and rage built up significantly, but so did their companionship and raw joy, according to behavioral analysts. There was much verbal, somewhat brotherly shared inspiration as those who fell were picked up and protected; inflicted pain turning to a cudgel to strike back... a hammer of glory.
As a concept, it sounds frightening, but every soldier who participated has returned to inform me in their own way that the experience was the most cathartic, joyous, and exciting sparring match they have ever done, *especially* when combined with your instrumental routines.
The soldiers' captain attempted this amplified HCR variation against a beachside raid. What resulted could have been carnage straight from the northmen of old. Battle cries, side-by-side companionship, relentless endurance and unwavering fury. Only a few soldiers suffered minor injuries; some from the charging elbows of their compatriots, blind within the tones' energy.
This amplification process seems marinated with potential, yet also a possible danger. Such new concepts are meant to be refined as they go, so we will have to see how it evolves. If you have any questions or inquiries, my door is always open. I hope you share my love of trying new things.
- Sincerely,
Madcap Osbourne
|
Our rebel forces had been driven underground by the invading army, forcing us to hide out in the sewer and subway network to regroup and think of a way to put a stop to these invaders once and for all. I hadn't been paying much attention to the fight, though it was important to my people that we remained free from tyranny's iron grip. I was hiding with everyone else, though shredding out some killer tunes on my guitar, when I realized the sick riff I just made inspired me to fight even harder than ever before. Music has always been a part of our culture, especially in times of war, as it performs a number of different functions for us, whether to keep morale high, stress the importance of hard work on the front lines and home front, inspire dramatic fervor, get in the zone of slaughter to keep things moving for us, and even restore vigor on the battlefield.
But this riff that I created, I just had to share with the others. So I did just that. And as soon as everyone started jamming along, we realized that we have another music genre to bring with us to the battlefield: Rock, or more specifically, heavy metal. This was a game changer for us, and with this new form of musical warfare, we were about to turn the tide on things and drive these invaders out of our home. Embracing this new option, we went dark. And I'm talking black, metallic, jewel tones, leather, skulls, flames, and skunk stripes on everyone. It was insane. It was some Mad Max shit, that's all I'm saying. This new genre of music seriously opened up some new doors for us.
With rock music now coursing through our veins and war paint on our faces, we made our plans and came out in droves to run these invaders out for good. I wish I could describe the faces of the invaders when we came charging out of the shadows straight out of Braveheart, but there were no words to be found. But what I can say is this: absolutely no one on the enemy's side survived our onslaught. It was an absolute massacre. The ones that did survive, well they had to return to their higher ups with the message, "Don't ever invade us again, as we have the firepower to slaughter anyone who does from now on. This is your only warning."
From that fight onward, things have been pretty peaceful for us, as our little warning made it clear that invasion is no longer an option for those who wish to attack us. Instead our enemies had to change tactics, and send diplomatic emissaries to negotiate with us rather fight a losing battle. Because our message was clear from the start, we have made profitable trading deals that heavily benefit us in the long term, and have made new allies out of our former enemies. All in all, a victory for us. The end.
| 2021-01-01T00:59:53 | 2020-12-31T23:45:21 | 152 | 12 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite.
|
The shrieks filled the small war room. Not the sound of a tortured individual or the cries of a defeated foe, begging for mercy. These shrieks were the kind of shrieks of a pure, primal frustration. The Dresk has shown that they had a capacity to make war in a way the humans could never match. They didn't have the industrial capacity, the trade network, or the technology to take the Dresk Republic one-on-one. Nor did they have the training, military numbers or population to sustain conflict in any meaningful way.
On paper.
That was the kicker, wasn't it? These hairless mammalian bipeds seemed to move forward not on logic, reason, or skill. Intuition was not the name of their species highest skillset. No, humans, and their formerly fractured empire, seemed to operate purely on spite and stubbornness. The Dresk has requested a concession of a minor system for mining, a system not previously even mined by the humans. In return the owner of the system would have been granted fifteen percent of all earnings from the system, an extremely generous offer. The response had been swift. "No." Bolded, and in a particularly scripted font. Someone had had to produce paper and ink, solely for the purpose of sending the response. Within a month a mining operation was set up.
The Republic had then agreed to take the system by force. A simple operation, park a Fleet in orbit of the (barely habitable) planet used as the mining facility headquarters, and besiege the planet. A few planetary rotations, they would surrender, and now the humans would gain nothing from the conquest but shame. In and our, an easy operation, especially when humanity was given a quick rundown of what they would be up against. So the fleet arrived, the space port and military installation, if you could call it that, were destroyed and a letter of request for surrender was sent. The Republic had expected the matter to be closed.
The term "Get fucked" had taken a translator a few hours to figure out, but once it had been deciphered the annoyance grew. What possible resistance could less than a million humans put up in a back water system? A blockade was placed around the planet and mining vessels were brought into the asteroid belt to begin extraction. But the mining vessels were hit in aggressive hit and run tactics, the blockage was struggling to keep supply ships from landing and supplying the planet, and the cost to keep up the operation was growing by the day. Maintenance ships were brought in, more naval presence, anything to stop the attacks and starve out the squatters.
Research was conducted, in hopes of better understanding the for, and the Dresk commander had all but rolled his eyes (or would have, if he had muscles to move his eyes) at the study of these creatures. They had risen to be the apex of their species not through the fastest reflexes, sharpest claws or toughest armour. No, they had simply kept following their prey until they simply laid down and died. That was it, they were just more persistent than their enemies. Two solar cycles into the invasion and with minimal cost the humans were actually winning the conflict. Republic public opinion of the occupation was dwindling, and due to the constant set backs the mining facilities were not even worth keeping operational. Military loses were well past acceptable limits, and the government was starting to think of the entire venture as a waste of resources. Eventually they were forced to simply pull out, the cost to maintain it simply too great to be worth it. They had even been forced to pay their own concessions for the resources the humans expended, leapfrogging their technology by decades.
The commander had, of course, had the blame pinned on him, reading the letter of recall. He was the one who had botched the operation, or that was how the government and military would spin it, the failure to hold a single system from an inferior species. A laughing stock in the streets, and a scapegoat in the chambers.
Dresk researchers spent years studying this human behaviour, the ability to put resources into a strategy that involves sitting and expecting their desired outcome in spite of any reasonable creature knowing it wasn't worth it. And in the future, in a back water bar the Dresk commander of the invasion, long since disgraced was sought out by some cocksure diplomats looking to invade a small human colony on their border. They presented their data, battle plans and proof of combat superiority to the humans. On paper they were the superior combatant. They asked the commander what he thought the out come would be, hope in their eyes and fire in their stomachs. The Dresk, taking a sip of his drink let out a noise as close to a laugh as his species had.
"You'll get fucked."
|
“I don’t understand,” the Thulian Emissary said, sighing and shaking its head with disbelief. “You have been defeated. We have destroyed your militaries. We have destroyed your cities. I have shown you over and over what will happen if you continue this war. It is finished. Surrender and become part of our empire. Surrender and—”
“Shut your ugly hole,” the representative for the United Peoples of the World said to the tentacled alien floating in a gaseous cloud. “Who da the hell do ya’ think we are? Hmmm!”
The Thulian Emissary sighed and spoke again slowly and firmly. “I think you are a species who has lost 99% of its population. I think you are a species who is living underground like “rats,” as you would say. I think you are a species without hope. And please don't believe for a second there is any hope to continue this pointless war. You are defeated completely and utterly. Subjugation is your one and only choice. That is your only hope. And I will not come back here to ask you again.”
“You say we lost 99% of our population. I say ya ugly cellaphods did us a favor! You got rid of the free-loaders, the weak, the hangers-on! Look around—” the President of the remaining humans swept his hand to a scattered and all-together pathetic looking crowd of humans who looked like they hadn't eaten in a month. Most were cripppled horribly from the endless war with the Thulian Empire. “These brave men and women will never be subjects in your little empire. You want to take our guns? Take our freedom? I say you can take ‘em from our cold dead hands, ya’ octopus lookin’ motha’ licka! I been turning you sacks of jelly into calamari my whole life and I ain’t gonna stop now.”
“Look,” the Emissary said, trying another route. “I admire your grit. Even when we showed up and blotted out your sky you were not afraid. Not even when you were presented with our overwhelming capabilities. No one has ever dared stand up to us. Even now you know what will happen and you still resist. I admire your zeal. Your spite. Your hatred for us "aliens". I understand it must be scary. I understand you are a proud species. But there is a time when you must accept the outcome. This is your only chance to escape complete annihilation. I need an answer from you NOW. Please listen to me… wait, what are you doing?”
The scraggly President proceeded to turn around and pull down his pants and wave his behind at the emissary.
“That’s our answer to you, ya' son of a mollusk.” The others started laughing and cheering and firing off their rifles.
“FINE!” the emissary shouted. “I’m done trying to save you stubborn fools!”
The emissary rose into the sky in a blink with the crowd’s chant of *UPW! UPW! UPW! UPW!* trailing behind.
* ​
"Any change?" The leader of the Thulian Senate asked the Emissary.
The Emissary shook its head no.
"Are you sure they understand what will happen?"
"I am sure," the Emissary said. "I've explained it to them over and over."
"You told them about our planet destroyer, right?"
"Of course."
"I have never seen such a bullheaded species!" The Senator said. "Not even those cantankerous blobs on Andromeda put up such a resistance."
"I don't understand," one of the other senators said. "These creatures are the most irrational beings we have ever met. They are not driven by fear. They seem only to be driven by their hatred for us."
"I must admit I admire them in some small way," the leader of the Senate said. "It's just too bad we couldn't show them the foolishness of fighting us. It's like they'd rather be exterminated than to be seen as cowards."
The room was silent, then one of the other senators raised a tentacle and said, "what if we played to their pride? And to their hate? What if we told them we wanted to be their partners." He shrugged. "We could send them in as the our Empire's front line. Their irrational belligerence will confuse and terrify our enemies. And the humans will get all the fighting that their hearts desire."
The Emissary sighed and said, "I will ask them."
* ​
"Well, why the hell didn't you say that from the beginning!" The president shouted at the Emissary as he walked over and shook its tentacle.
\--
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
| 2021-01-18T21:29:13 | 2021-01-18T18:30:23 | 1,963 | 375 |
[WP] While walking home you spot a strange looking lizard caught in some plastic. You decide to free the poor creature. Freed the lizard spreads out a pair of wings and begins to happily fly around before landing on your shoulder. It’s seems you have made a new dragon friend.
|
"Ow." I winced as four sets of sharp claws found their perch on my shoulder. The little dragon settled down, resting his head in the crook of my neck. I strained my eyes to look over at him.
He was about the size of a ferret, maybe--I hadn't had many pets growing up, and he was smaller than a cat, but not by much. I reached a hand up cautiously and scratched his chin. He let out a contented purring sound. Maybe more like a cat than I thought. What do dragons even eat? I wondered, walking home with my new passenger, lost in thought.
"Anders!" The voice shook me out of my thoughts unpleasantly. Shit. A few yards ahead of me I saw Morgan, a girl from my class who I was on less than great terms with. She was getting closer. The dragon appeared to be asleep.
"What the hell is that?" she asked as she got close enough to see it.
"It's, um...my pet lizard," I said lamely.
She scoffed. "Gross. The two of you are practically made for each other."
I felt the tiny head lift up from my shoulder. "Ugh, why is it looking at me like that?" Morgan asked, disgusted.
My shoulder felt...warm, all of a sudden. I got a terrible sinking feeling as I heard the dragon's stomach rumble.
He burped.
...
It took several weeks for Morgan's eyebrows to grow back, and she kept a safe distance from me for the rest of the school year.
|
I decided to call him “Cheese” since the wrapper he was caught in happened to be a cheese wrapper. He seemed to like it because he batted his wings a bit every time I said it.
I decided I would take Cheese back home and call my best friend, Jill, to come and see him. She thought I was high at first, but when she walked in she was shocked to see Cheese just casually flying around my living room.
“Holy shit! We need to sell this thing! We are gonna be rich!” Jill shouted in amazement.
I looked her right in the eyes and said “fuck no! We can’t do Cheese like that! They would do science experiments on him and he will never get to live a normal life. I saved him and now I owe him a good life. We are keeping him!”
Cheese didn’t like the loud arguing and all of a sudden a loud noise started coming out of him, a noise similar to a kettle when it’s done heating up. He turned bright red and speedily flew out the window.
“Shit!!” Jill and I yelled simultaneously as we ran out the door to find Cheese. I had her get in the car and I walked down the sidewalks looking in bushes. After about 3 hours we gave up our search.
The next morning I woke up, made my cup of coffee and sat down to watch the news just like I do everyday. But today was much different...
BREAKING NEWS: UNKOWN DRAGON TYPE SPECIES DESTROYS 7 TOWNS IN MICHIGAN! MANY INJURED.
That’s when I knew I fucked up.
| 2021-06-17T19:01:30 | 2021-06-17T18:42:04 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] A lighthouse keeper begins to suspect the lighthouse is up to something besides warning boats of the rocky shores.
|
**A Recountance of the Lancaster Lighthouse**
**November 23, 1821**
*It is on this day, this very day, with the waves of winter beginning to swell and my breath beginning to show in the air, that I must begin my recountance of the happenings of the Lancaster Lighthouse.*
*Fear. That is the motivation for these small entries. First, fear that others will not believe the tales I tell here, that others will not believe the things I have seen. Second, fear that I will not believe myself, that my mind will turn against my memories, doubting their veracity, rationalizing them away as nothing but my own lonely terrors taking on a life of their own.*
*That is all for now, this beginning, a commitment to describing the strange things afoot at Lancaster Lighthouse. I am so very tired.*
**November 30, 1821**
*At last, there was yet another happening on this day. Such a strange week, strange in its lack of strangeness, that is. I’d almost begun to believe that perhaps my commitment to this journal had dispelled my fears, that they had been my terrible imagination after all.*
*Not so.*
*I was performing my nightly duties, changing the lamp atop the tower, cleaning the magnification lens, ensuring the position of the mirrors, when I saw it. There, in the reflection, on the black waters far away, was a spot of light. So small I could barely make it out, but it was there.*
*Turning to observe the ship in reality, I could not find it. Turning back to the mirror it was gone as well. It had been there, it was no trick of light, it had been there.*
**December 19, 1821**
*At last, a true happening to recount.*
*These weeks have continued to have more small events like the one above, and with my growing responsibilities in the increasingly frigid winter air, I have not been able to report them here.*
*Today’s event, though, must be written down.*
*~~First, I must, to my great chagrin, make a grave admittance. I allowed the light to be extinguished. Indeed, my one responsibility as the keeper of the lighthouse is to allow the light in the house to persist.~~*
*~~Perhaps it was a godsend, though, for my negligence allowed me to make today’s chilling discovery.~~*
*The lamp of the house was extinguished, though upon reflection I do not believe it to be a fault of my own. The lamp was new and still had a full basin of oil. However improbably, I suspect the unexplainable things around me played a hand.*
*Just before relighting the lamp, far in the distance, were more spots of light far out on the water, this time seen with eyes my own, not reflected in the mirror.*
*I was unable to stop myself from reigniting the lamp, however, and as soon as I did so the spots of lights vanished entirely.*
**December 25, 1821**
*Today is not about joy, is not about family, today is nothing like celebrating the birth of our savior should be.*
*Rather, it is about making a grave decision. More and more often they appear now, the spots of light. Out of the corner of my eye, when I peer through the lenses at specific angles, again when I adjust the mirror, I see them more often, I see more of them, and they’re getting closer, day by day by day.*
*What am I to do? I cannot reliably see them; it always by accident. If I forsake my duty to keep the light lit, putting it out by my own hand, perhaps I’ll be able to see them again. But is it worth the risk? That would a transgression of duty punishable by nothing less than death.*
*This is the decision I must make.*
**January 2, 1822**
*~~It~~ They are here. Now. I ^am trapped.*
*I did it. I put it out. After another tormenting week of the lights all around me, I did it.*
*Immediately upon extinguishing the fire, the intensity of the frigid air increased tenfold, shocking me, nearly freezing me. In another instant, the glass around the room began to crack. In the next, it all shattered at once, allowing the insane, icy winds into the room.*
*And they were there, beyond the broken window. Close enough for me to make out now.*
*The lights are ships. Not ships of this plane, I know no other way to say it. Not ships of man, not ships of this earth.*
*Unable to relight the lamp, I ran back to this room. The storm rages outside, and there is no light to warn the ships away, those from this earth or another plane.*
___
r/stealthystorkstories
|
Jared peered out into the dark vista, his binoculars dialed in to the max. He saw a small vessel piloting dangerously close to the rocky reef. Flipping on the lighthouse lamp, he focused the beam on the craft and its obstacle. With its increased vision, the craft was able to navigate its way safely to shore.
The lighthouse keeper relaxed back onto his chair. It had taken ages to lug up the stairs, but it was worth it to lounge and read a book while he waited for the next floundering vessel to show up and demand his illumination.
"Keep watch, would you?" he asked.
His son Jake, with favorite seashell necklace dangling around his neck, nodded affirmation.
Grunting thanks, Jared continued reading. It was probably twenty minutes before he bothered looking up again, and when he did, he saw a dark outline in the distance.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded, squinting through the binoculars.
Muttering obscenities under his breath, Jared moved the lamp's focus over to the ship. One day he'd have to get one of those fancy roving lights that rotated the beam automatically.
Only thirty minutes after he had that thought, the beam moved of its own accord and focused on a tiny rock about a hundred yards out from shore.
"What in the..."
The light intensified further than it had ever had in Jared's life, seeming to focus all its life force on the small outcropping of rock.
"What did you do to this thing?" he demanded his son.
With a large effort -- the lamp seemed reticent to move from its position -- Jared was able to force it back into position.
"That was odd."
The next evening, when the lighthouse keeper was eating dinner, he saw it happen again. The beam of light swooped across the small house Jared was eating in, registering his son Jake opaque for a moment, and suddenly stopped on the small island of rock.
"Alright Jake, come on. I'm going to show you how to fix this thing."
He marched across the field between his brick cottage and the lighthouse and ascended the stairs to the top with practiced ease. After forcing the lamp back into proper position, he turned to Jake.
"Alright, look here. This is the shutter, which is how you focus the beam. The lamp here is on a swivel, so you can move it around like so." -- Jared demonstrated, and Jake watched while clutching his seashell necklace -- "It looks like there is some imbalance that's causing the lamp to swivel on its own and catch in that position facing the rock. I'm going to give it a quick cleaning and re-balance."
After half an hour, the lighthouse keeper had fixed it to his liking.
"There we are! One day you'll be taking the reigns here, so it's good for you to be watching me do this stuff."
The rest of the night was going smoothly until he heard an almost anxious sound from the lighthouse. Jared looked up from his book in disbelief; the lamp had moved to focus on the island of rock once more.
"You stay here!" he blustered at Jake. "I'm going to see what's about this rock!"
He ran down the stairs and across the field; down the stone steps cleft into the cliff; across the rock and to the dock. Jared leapt into his tiny wooden boat and started paddling through the black, restive waters.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded the lighthouse while he rowed. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"
He made it to the rock damp and cold. Lurching his way out of the boat, he faced the lighthouse and raised his hands in the air like a performer under the spotlight.
"Look! I'm here! Now what?"
The light beam narrowed in response, becoming thinner and thinner until it was a needle-point. Jared looked at where it was focusing. He knelt on the ground.
"Jake?"
The lighthouse keeper picked up a seashell necklace from underneath the lighthouse's gaze. He turned around and saw his son, standing there on the rock.
"It's not your fault," Jake said. And then he was no longer there.
He didn't know if it was the salt water or tears running down his face. It didn't matter. In the ocean they were one and the same.
Jared remembered his son disappearing a year ago, and how he had looked everywhere. And now... he clutched the seashell necklace to his chest and wept.
"Why?" he demanded the lighthouse. "Why would you do this to me?"
But it had abandoned him to his sorrow. The light beam had refocused into position, guiding a vessel through the choppy waves. Jared strained his eyes to see the name along the side.
*Closure*
| 2022-02-21T11:01:03 | 2022-02-21T09:22:43 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!"
|
I handed over my twins. Ever since they were born, they were a pain in my butt. From biting my nipples to crawling all over my belly, not caring that I was exhausted. I couldn't sleep, their cries keeping me awake for hours on end.
Their dad buggered off after the deed, I don't even know if he knows I had got pregnant. Not that I cared, he wouldn't be much help anyway, always talking but never doing anything.
I sighed, finally free of this burden. They were 8 weeks now, old enough to care for themselves I figured. I had taught them everything I knew, and now my job was done.
And so I returned into the lap of my servant, enjoying the peace and quiet of the afternoon, with half an eye watching my demon spawn being carried away. Thank Bastet I got spayed now.
|
'See, the secret was to make deals with different TYPES of demons. That way, none of them realized his soul was already offered up. I know how this sounds but listen, you know how demons are, this is going to go into litigation for years. If all goes well, my son, Johna, can live an ordinary life and die before they even decide who gets him. And here's the kicker, here's why I tried this whole charade, if a demon fails to collect before the death of the mortal, then the contract is voided. That's right, voided! By that time I'll be long gone and there's TECHNICALLY nothing about this to blacken my soul. Hell, once I'm beyond the pearly gates, I'm home free. They'd have to deal with the big man upstairs to get me and ain't nobody wants to go through upper management! Anyway, sorry about getting off topic, I'm not interested in donating anything today, hope you have better luck with your next call'
| 2022-08-31T13:37:03 | 2022-08-31T11:22:01 | 579 | 210 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
|
It was 4:45 in the afternoon and I knew I was going to be late but I really wanted to finish the documentary. It was called “A brief History: The Extra-Capable”. Brief History was my favorite channel, most of what they covered was relevant and sometimes even useful.
Apparently by their latest counts there’s over a billion of us now AND they finally found the exact mutation that caused us to come about in the first place. That was exciting and a little nerve racking since normies still outnumbered is seven to one I’m sure it’ll have ramifications throughout society. It’s already bad enough that you have to register with the PPDEC (powered people’s department of the extra-capable), more commonly known as Peedics, if you’re ever caught using or having any abilities.
Over all the Peedics themselves weren’t all that terrible but due to bounty hunter laws and a whole lot of lobbying the whole “Hero vs Villain” trope became a reality. Since I came from a family of nobles and way back when there was just enough….keeping it in the family…for the mutation to occur everyone in my family for generations on my moms side has had some sort of ability. Unfortunately due to being a little bit of a rebel with entirely too much attitude I landed myself on the registry and not on the side of the hero’s.
Thankfully one of my cousins was an awfully good lawyer that still owed me one for helping them get a sports scholarship despite their only extra powers being to tell when someone’s lying. Still, getting on that list was the beginning of a life long trail of bad luck and misunderstandings. I used my powered to make a bunch of money in my youth that paid for the startup of a few small businesses, but I always had passion in being a performer. Too ugly to be an actor, and my voice was a little too nasally for standup comedy I figured I’d enjoy my time playing the part of the label I was given at 18.
Now I’m in my late 30’s, run the most visited late night coffee shop “Camera Free Coffee”, a special suit fabrication company for the extra capable “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tailor”, and a small time construction company for ex convicts “Lessen Learned Renovation”. Oh, and in my spare time I harass Heroes and just generally toe the line between terrorism and technically legal for funsies.
After finishing the documentary and heading out for some afternoon taunting of the newbies that just got into town and playing dumb so they’d let me go after a lecture or two I did my rounds between the businesses.
In stark contrast to my personal behavior I was a very serious employer. Every one of my employees mattered to me and I personalized all of their schedules and benefits packages to best fit them while still turning a profit in the business. I genuinely care about those who choose to work for me.
That only made it all the most heartbreaking when the next day I went to check on the progress of my Lessen Learned crews work after they’d all gone home and seen the place look completely ransacked. Everything was either destroyed or missing. I would come in tomorrow when they were all supposed to be here to talk to them.
The Tailor was just around the block from my favorite place in the whole world, the coffee shop, and I passed by it every day except today. Today it was missing in its entirety. Literally gone. Wall to wall the building wasn’t there as if it had been ripped from its foundation and thrown into another dimension. This reminded me of one of the idiot new Peedic heros “never was man” stupid name but apparently he had very specific reality manipulation capabilities and was pretty salty about not being made a class B hero. I jogged to the coffee shop now worried about what might be happening there.
I had at least one extra-capable on staff at all my businesses, except the coffee shop. There, every single employee has some sort of extra capability.
It was a massacre.
Reporters across the street trying to get any information they could and police were taking statements, mostly from the smug hero’s that tried saying my staff attacked them. I had 14 employees. Four survived and only one was uninjured. Jasmine was okay, but she wasn’t fine. Only one hero was injured and it was that almost B rank one that must’ve gone on a rampage because of my antics.
Jasmines only power is called damage swap. After she’s injured to a certain extend in exchange for her experience double the pain she’s able to transfer the injuries to the next person that touches her. She tried being a hero. She couldn’t mentally handle it with the powers she had.
She told me what happened as I wrapped a blanket around her, careful not to touch her directly in case there was anything wrong that I couldn’t see. I wasn’t careful enough. I grazed her ear and was immediately bombarded with the mental trauma of what happened in excruciating detail. She screamed and passed out, probably for the best.
She wouldn’t want to see what happens next.
|
\[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low\]
* C-Class audiokinesis \[Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control\]
* D-Class speedster abilities. \[Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required\]
* Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. \[Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities\]
\[End File\]
You know the problem with most villains?
Okay, trick question. There's no *one* problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack *fun.*
Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.
Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.
Do you *know* how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight *months* of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.
I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.
I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.
So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.
*DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly!* (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).
From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight *tries* to stun me with a flare (come on kid, *I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it*.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.
All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.
Turns out strobe-boy *moonlights* as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.
They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a *bunch* of panicking teenagers who can't see.
3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.
I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way *out* of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw.
| 2022-11-29T00:16:04 | 2022-11-28T20:44:52 | 49 | 11 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
|
The three heroes slammed open the door behind the bakery, leaving several badly beaten workers crumpled on the floor. Some of them weren't moving. "Hey 1, should we call an ambulance or something? They dont look too good." 1 scoffed. "Absolutely not. They got what was coming to them, 2. They should have thought about the consequences before working for the Overlord."
Before 2 could respond, the door slammed shut behind them, and the lights blared to life, temporarily blinding the trio. When their eyesight returned, the Overlord himself stood before them. "Got what was coming to them, yes? What an interesting way to justify yourself." The Overlord scarcely had finished his sentence before 3 swept in, hefting his battle hammer high before slamming it down, caving in the Overlord's skull. All that remained was a mass of wires and electronics as the intercom crackled overhead. "Oh, please. after that display of brutality, do you really think I'd be stupid enough to confront you in person?" The Overlord said, his voice dripping with contempt. 1 punched the wall, growling with wrath. "Come out, you coward! Fight like a man!"
"Oh, fight like a man? Do you mean like you assaulted my unarmed employees? Have you ever heard of a front, or a cover? Had you considered that I may have hired random people to hide my trail since you seem so familiar with my typical associates? They have nothing to do with this, you imbeciles. Good men and women beaten nearly to death over something they had nothing to do with. They're practically civilians. You have finally abandoned the people you claim to fight for, in the name of the greater good."
2 shrunk back, trying to hide behind 1 as if he could protect him from the well-earned scolding. "How could we have known?" he asked timidly.
"HOW?!?" The Overlord shouted, causing the speakers to squeal in protest and 2 to duck further behind 1.
"If you had an ounce of common sense, you would have realized the obvious. You are either careless or callus, and proven yourselves to be an undeniable public threat. Until this point, you have been tolerated. You have been playing hero, and I have been keeping you entertained. However, you have been playing for so long that you have forgotten what it meant to be a hero in the first place. Before today, your act was innocent, and perhaps even a little endearing. Now you have lost your innocence, leaving us on equal footing for the first time in your little game. The training wheels are off now, children. Pray that you've learned how to walk, because now you have to run. Besides, I would hate for anyone else to get hurt."
As he said this, several slots began to open in the ceiling. The three heroes looked upward in horror as they saw the faint glow of something burning above, quickly racing down the newly opened shoots. "On a related note, are you familiar with the murder holes in medieval fortifications? Quite a barbaric tactic, but I think you have certainly earned it. How did you phrase it earlier? It seems you'll be getting what's coming to you."
|
*This time* it had to work. It couldn't be like that time the duct tape broke in the torture chamber, releasing the bar that kept Doctor KingKitty from morphing into her feline form and escaping. Or like the time my blaster cannon had no ammo while I finally had WhipWorm in the scope. And most certainly never like the time when I had all of the CloudWing crew trapped in a bus and hanging off the cliffside, and instead of using my extender arm to push it off, I activated the grapple instead.
The CloudWingers had to be stopped at any cost.
Ash stung my nostrils as I prowled about the ruins of my 6-12 convenience store, a business that had nothing to do with CloudWing and which they untargeted with contemptuous unfairness in an act that could be described as villainous. *I'm supposed to be the villain.* I had ignored them for too long, allowing them to go about telling the tallest of tales and exaggerations about their minuscule superpowers while I focused too much on the *project*. Oh me.
*It hadn't been all that difficult to get them all on that bus.* They weren't exactly the brightest superheroes ever, usually gullibly falling into whatever trap suited their fancy the most. KingKitty was had with merely a piece of catnip. WhipWorm just wanted to hide and slithered right in. MellowSnow hated heat and was forced on with nothing more than a cigarette lighter. Then the leader, the pathetic RiverRaven, was so full of their own appetite that a squirrel carcass had brought the bird faster than I could count to ten.
*If only I had finished them then.*
No point in crying over past opportunities. I looked over at the automorpher with glee. If only I had it complete... It would be the most perfect way to dispose of them. Plants, reduced to nothing more than ordinary garden weeds. Then, onto the rest of the superheroes. *Yes, yes. I could plant them in a garden. So much fun.*
I licked my lips. Time to go to work.
\-----------
I couldn't help but let out a smile directed at nothing as I watched all of them get into the back of the brown van, the automorpher pointed out the window at it. This was going to be all too easy... They had fallen for the same traps that I had laid out the last time! Oh me.
Once all four were inside I called down to the security guard whom I'd paid a handsome sum and he shut the door. At once I charged the automorpher and pulled the trigger, expecting a cathartic blast of energy to rush into the van.
What came out instead was... a wisp of smoke?
That's when the gun started to feel hot. Not just hot like it'd been warmed by the sun on an afternoon, or hot like a cell phone gets when its overused. Boiling hot, enough that I was forced to drop it.
Of course, when it hit the ground a blast of energy finally did come out of it, directed at me. It didn't kill me, instead giving me these stupid petals around my face so I look like a sunflower. A loser.
<pouts>
\----------------
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
| 2022-11-28T23:57:38 | 2022-11-28T14:15:34 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
|
C-list was a comfortable position. I hardly ever had to put much work into the villainy aspect, so I got so focus more on my personal business. And, It meant I got to be a little bit goofy, which is always fun. For the most part, the heroes I ended up facing were kind, helpful, and sweet. I even kept in contact with a few of them.
Despite being publicly listed as a villain by most government, the truth is a bit more complicated. For most would be heroes, I'm the first real stumbling block they face, the test that's given to see if they can handle the serious threats posed by others, or if they'd be better of sticking with small-scale threats and crime on a small scale.
I also existed to weed out true villains masquerading themselves as heroes. that is where this story begins.
I was working at my bookstore, a small little place with a cozy atmosphere. I had a few employees, mostly people who had recently gotten out of prison and had tried to turn their lives around. Good people, hard workers.
It was a slow day, and then in walked "The Hammer," The most recent "hero" I'd been tasked with assessing. He didn't lack power, that was for certain. He had the ability to turn any part of his body into any metal, super-strength, super-speed, and flight to boot. What he lacked was morals. He only seemed to care about himself, and he could get quite angry when he didn't get his way.
The store was no stranger to heroes and villains visiting, but most were discrete, using their secret identity. But here was The Hammer, in his full getup, standing in the open doorway after he'd kicked down the door.
"I know you're here Amanda! Come on out!" His voice boomed
I saw Amanda standing frozen. she turned to run, but was hardly able to move before the hammer rushed over to her and grabbed her by the arm. I spoke up.
"Sir! let go of my employee!"
He scoffed "Your employee? did you know that she's a thieving piece of shit?"
"That's not relevant, let go of her and get out of my store now."
"Or else what? You'll report me? Who do you think they're gonna believe, a small bookstore manager and his criminal employee, or the greatest up-and-coming hero?" He squeezed Amanda's arm, she let out a cry of pain.
"There's a lot of people outside, and seeing you drag out a screaming woman is bound to create rumors."
I saw the thought of his reputation being damaged enter his head, and he let go of her hand. "Fine, but I'll be back. And when I come back, you'd better come quietly, or else this little bookstore might be reduced to a pile of rubble by a tragic 'accident.'" He gave Amanda a shove and then stormed out of the building.
Amanda had a fracture in her arm. I reported The Hammer to the organization that assigned heroes and villains their ranks. They told me to deal with it how I saw fit, and they'd keep press coverage to a minimum, letting me keep my C-list ranking.
Next morning, he was going to be given a mission to stop me. I was going to make a volcano erupt or something stupid, I didn't really care about the details, what mattered was that it was remote.
He arrived right on queue, wearing his full costume. I had neglected to wear mine, instead wearing my manager's uniform. The fool didn't even make the connection, and just started making fun of me. He didn't even notice the spike of stone forming until it passed through his chin. If he hadn't been so careless and overconfident, he might've stood a chance against me me, but it was going to get him, or someone else killed eventually.
His body was never found. The news story was that after stopping me, he decided he simply didn't want to be a hero. For his secret identity, he went missing on a hiking trip.
Amanda made a full recovery, and there was a small party welcoming her back. Like continued on, and there was one less villain in the world
|
Ay-Ay-Ron ☑️
^(@officialmrsens8tional)
@fenixfire_herotv isn't this that chump villain you talk about? `https://op-ed.metropost.co...`
----
> Dear Heroes,
>
> Yesterday, a group of superpowered thugs caused an incident at the Little-Big Cheese restaurant. After what must have been too many drinks, one of them groped their waitress before the group erupted into argument resulting in a building fire starting at their booth, a pyromancer shaped hole in the shared wall to Mr. Kim's Asian Fusion, and a half dozen shattered panes of plate glass from super-people who cannot learn to use doors. It's only due to exceptional luck that there were only two broken bones and a concussion among the fire-suppression drenched bystanders for whom you showed complete disregard.
>
> I'd like to think I've been very accomodating to your individual concerns. I've deferred plenty of plans in the name of sportsmanship when you had to travel for business, your boyfriend broke up with you, your brother had a health emergency, or you've just had a bad day at work. But enough is enough. Injury to bystanders and property is strictly against the oaths you swore when joining the League of Heroes. But I don't feel the need to call your regional chapter representative. Because I know how to get to all of you.
>
> I know your uncle still pays for your apartment. When was the last time you talked to him? A week? A month? He couldn't remember when I asked. Too busy trying to land that acting gig again? It's funny how someone so fast has no time to learn people skills.
>
> I know the doggy day care you send the King Charles Spaniel you named after me. Yes, I have big ears, very droll you witless harridan. I know your mother makes sure you take food home because you can't help but burn anything you try to cook. You know she asked me over tea to keep things indoor or at night because you don't wear enough sunscreen? How did you end up bereft of any of her courtesy?
>
> I know you have half a dozen DUI stops in the last three years that you got out of due to Mommy's connections. I know about the "best interests of the family" and the girl from college who disappeared after you proposed to her. It's not a lack of physical strength or toughness that keeps you out of the big-time superheroes, it's you. You're a cowardly, guileless never-will-be who takes out their personal problems on other people.
>
> I can take apart your lives if I want. This is my warning to you: Clean up or get out.
>
> And as for you, Sean, your only crime is having poor taste in companions. If you ever want out of the superhero business, I know some people in contract machining that could use your skill set. And hell, if that doesn't work out I could use another henchman. It's a good gig, ask any of my people--we only have 9% annual staff turnover and our health insurance has the necessary provisions for super-people.
>
> Sincerely,
> The Master of Whispers
> Citizen, Business Owner, Supervillain.
----
Meghan Metal Scuptures *@meghansmetalaf*
@officialmrsens8tional you're friends with these assholes? They *shattered* @QueenOfPuttingShots arm! She's gonna lose her scholarship!
----
Reggie_FPV *@all4wallrideboss* ☑️
.@officialmrsens8tional just gonna leave this here. 😱🤦🏻 `https://youtu.be/dQw...`
*<Video has been removed by copyright enforcement request.>*
----
Reggie_FPV *@all4wallrideboss* ☑️
.@officialmrsens8tional video re-up
*<security camera video of superheroes infighting at a fondue shop>*
----
Whispers *@mrwhisperscasualvillainy* (✮NEW ACCOUNT✮)
That doesn't belong to you Reggie, please remove it.
| 2022-11-29T08:15:42 | 2022-11-29T07:39:34 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] You are a cannon fodder minion on the first floor of a dungeon, and have just killed the hero. You now have to explain to the boss that you just ruined his plan.
|
He didn't dare to believe his eyes as he stared down at the smoldering corpse of the hero at his feet. This was the vaunted hero? In rotted leather armor and bearing a chipped sword? Surely his Lord's carefully planned traps, expertly trained minions and artfully designed mazes gathered over these past 7 years since the hero prophecy was first spoken could not have been in vain? The lowly foot soldier tried to imagine having to explain what he had done, how he had ruined all those years of planning and preparation.
*"I'm so sorry my lord, the hero was pathetic! He thought he was armed with Prophecy and immortal. He just charged right in and all but leapt into the path of my weak and pathetic fire spell. I did not expect that to vanquish him!"*
*"You fool... 7 years! 7 YEARS!! No expense spared! I prepared for everything! EVERYTHING! How could you ruin this? How... how could you?"*
And as the lowly minion imagined the tears streaming down his Lord's face he knew what he must do. He stomped out the still smoldering bits of the hero's armor and removed it from his corpse. Donning the rotted leather over his own mail he dropped his expertly crafted sword in favour of the pitted rusted ruin the hero had brought. He needed to disguise his face. He might be the weakest of minions but he had spent 7 long years with these beings, they knew him as well as he knew them. He blackened his face with soot and cut his lengthy mane hastily with a dagger. Finally he searched for any other gear the hero had brought and found only a small amulet which he donned as well. Thus armed he turned away from the entrance headed deep into the dungeon.
Despite his weakness, he had stilled trained these 7 long years with the best of the other minions. He had helped prepare the traps, and had joined the construction crews on the mazes. Quite simply put, he knew every square inch of this dungeon and so forearmed with his knowledge he barreled into every trap barely avoiding death by the slimmest of margins. He knew all the weaknesses of each of his fellow minions but not even that could make up for his own weakness. Each battle was a terrible trial and by the time he made it through the last maze he was beaten and bruised horribly. Only his impeccable mail had saved him from serious injury. Thankfully his Lord had spared no expense.
"Foolish hero, I see you have bested my minions and navigated my dungeon but now you face my wrath! Puny human prepare yourself!" His Lord, not recognizing his minion, cried out in joy as the hero he had spent 7 long years preparing for finally stood before him.
*My Lord... this I do for you. I give my life so that these plans will not go to waste!* The weak minion thought to himself, but he knew that he couldn't give in too easily. His Lord had trained extensively himself and deserved the best fight possible. Gathering his courage the minion charged his Lord and gave his all. He fought with everything he had, barely avoiding death a hundred times at his Lord's hand. Finally, he could fight no more and his Lord stood over him, prepared to deal the final blow.
"Foolish hero, do you now understand my might?! You never stood a chance you fool!"
As his Lord gloated, the beaten minion could only nod his head in reply for fear of giving away his identity with his voice. It was then that a single drop of blood fell from his broken nose and landed squarely on the amulet he'd taken from the fallen hero. A brilliant light emanated from the amulet, blinding the minion and his Lord both. When the light faded the minion slowly rubbed his eyes, willing the spots to clear. He could only look on in horror at the smoking ruin where his Lord once stood, vanquished by the light of the amulet.
And so the prophecy was realized.
*7 years hence, the Dark Lord, after much preparation, will be vanquished by the weakest fool would be hero with the best of intentions."*
|
It was big enough that even us grunts on level one heard about it. And believe me, we don’t hear about much. The most exciting thing that’s happened to us in the past year is the time a blobby on level three went rogue and killed a couple of wolves. But we started hearing whispers that something big was coming. A hero was on his way.
Lord DeathWish had been ordering a lot of supplies lately. Usually Greg was the one who signed for packages, since he was closest to the main gate, but I had to cover for him when his wife got sick, so I saw some of the invoices. Alchemical powder. Menacing-looking iron spikes. Shiny gauntlets. Two hundred pounds of ox meat? All straight down to level 50. Thank god there was an elevator in the back.
We waited for months, patrolling level one, keeping watch. Guard duty on level one is basically keeping the rats out – both literal and figurative. Every once and a while a kid would show up with a bucket on his head, babbling about glory and honor, but they weren’t difficult to deal with. No real heroes, we hadn’t seen one of those since the massacre of ’43. He’d made it all the way to level 27. The way they tell it, it had taken weeks to get all the bodies cleared out. But that was before my time.
When the rumours first started floating around – that there was a hero on the way – people started getting nervous. Guys started hitting the gym, a few people quit and got jobs at the smith’s or the baker’s. But things have a way of calming down after you’ve walked the same beat a thousand times and nothing has changed. I figured I’d stick it out – even though level one doesn’t pay much, I’ve got dental, and I found a pair of comfortable shoes a while back that make the patrolling tolerable.
It was on one of my rare turns around the corner in the far hallway that I realized that something was wrong. An unusual clattering sound was coming from the entrance hall. Usually the delivery guys just ring the bell, but I figured that one of them had made it in somehow and Greg had gotten overzealous. But no, this was different. I felt myself wishing that I had better equipment than my battered old sword – although it was excellent for skewering rats.
Quietly I poked my head around the corner. Oh my god, it was a hero. There was no mistaking that tawny blond hair, the standard brown boots, and the smug look of self-satisfaction as he pulled his sword out of Greg’s lifeless body and looked up. At me. Fudge.
I bolted back around the corner, and hit the alarm bell. That sent the message that our defenses had been breached down to level three, and they would send a boss up to investigate. Maybe that would happen in time to save my skin, but I doubted it. The hallway I was assigned to protect was a dead end, with a chest at the end. I was dead meat.
Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the hilt of my sword. Maybe I’d be able to take a little chunk out of the bastard before it was all over. I drew, turned….and stopped.
The hero’s face was about six inches from mine, mouth open and eyes wide. His arms were raised above his head, both hands wrapped around his weapon. We both looked down at my sword, which had buried itself right in between his exquisitely sculpted chest and his exquisitely sculpted abs. Guess he hadn’t splurged the 50 gold for a tunic. The words “CRITICAL STRIKE” boomed out over the PA system.
“Knew….I should have….put more points toward….defense…” he wheezed. I didn’t even pull my sword out, just let it drop with his body, and stepped back. Golden boy was dead. On freaking level one. I contemplated whether it was more likely that the boss from level three was going to kill me, or if he was taking me straight down the elevator to level fifty. Maybe I’d finally find out what those weird packages were for.
| 2014-09-03T12:27:33 | 2014-09-03T12:17:20 | 241 | 54 |
[WP] You happen across a magic lamp, and bring out the Genie. Your first wish back-fires, and you're pretty sure the Genie did it on purpose. Use your next two wishes to teach him a lesson.
|
"You don't understand.", said the genie, smirking."You can ask for more wishes, but I don't have to accept those wishes, since they are not valid wishes." His smile now stretched from ear to ear. I gritted my teeth. When I had set out to find a genie, I had read the Quran, which had the first stories about these beings. I had read about them being treacherous, free spirits that were forced to do others' bidding. They vented their frustration by finding loopholes in the wishes. However, I still hadn't expected them to be such giant dickheads.
"Two left, *sire*." I could feel the biting sarcasm in that sentence.
A whole fucking year spent on finding a genie. Dozens of frauds, false myths and thousands of dollars later, I found a genie that would probably dangle food over a starving kid in Africa purely for his own entertainment. I examined his face. It was mischievous, yearning for havoc. But his smile is what set me off. It was delighted, delighted that I had fallen for his trap, delighted that I had been let down. I came to the conclusion that this narcissistic excuse for a spirit wouldn't grant me a wish without twisting it in some way, so I decided to toy with him instead.
Slowly, carefully, I started building a plan in my head. I blocked out the genie's urging and insults, and thought. What would piss me off if I was an immortal being that could grant any wish under the sun, but do just that? Hmmm....
"Genie!" He had decided to take a nap, and my yell awoke him with a start.
"Huh,Wha? Oh, it's you. You got your second wish yet, or do I have to wait for another millennium?"
"Yeah, I got it." At this point it took all my will power to hold back the smile that had begun to creep across my face. As I described my wish(in painstaking detail), I saw the colour drain from his face. By the time I had finished, his face reflected a look of a cruel mixture of agony and hatred."Fine!", he snapped. "Your wish is my command."
Months passed. Soon people were spreading stories about a strange man walking up to them and describing to them in incredulous detail the exact structure of the Universe, down to a sub-atomic level. Every time police tried to arrest him, they would also be subject to these long lectures, which were rumoured to last for weeks, complete with standardized tests. Every time I read such a report, I smirked. Teaching every human being above the age of 18 how the Universe worked was no small feat. Maybe this would teach that bastard a lesson.
Years passed. By now almost everyone had their 'day of enlightenment', which was celebrated with a cake and a few friends and family holding long debates over the identity of the man. This had become so commonplace, people just went with it and didn't resist, as it didn't affect them after the man left them. In fact, Universities across the globe had noticed higher aggregate scores in Universities that had a majority of people who had been 'enlightened' as compared to those who didn't. The accepted theory was that the man's lecture was so boring that students were eager to grasp on to anything that would hold a remote influence in their lives. I was glad that this had more positive effects than I could have hoped for. It was almost like this wish back fired on the genie instead of me.
Ten years later, I heard a knock on my door. To my surprise, I was greeted by a familiar face. I say familiar, because if it wasn't for his smile, I wouldn't be able to recognize him. The genie had not 'aged' well. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles that made it seem as if he hadn't slept for a hundred days. His breathing was heavy, and looked like a walking corpse. Despite all that, I noticed a strange gleam in his eyes. I wondered if he had found another loophole with which he would exact revenge.
"I did it. 7 billion people. All educated about the fundamental structure of the Universe. All of them."
It was then I realized what that gleam was. It was satisfaction. Delight. He had done something significant. It was because of his teachings, that Physics had made giant leaps forward to the point where warp drives were a feasible possibility. Then something in my head clicked. For thousands of years, genies were forced to do the bidding of man. But it wasn't that that had angered them. It was the selfish wishes we had asked for. Riches, love, and pride were the dominating themes in mankind's history. No doubt the genies got fed up by granting such selfish wishes. They were teaching us a lesson. The same way I tried to teach him a lesson.
The genie gave me a knowing look. No words were needed. I had solved an ancient mystery. But I still had one wish left.
"I wish that all genies from now on-wards only impart knowledge to the human race and don't have to fulfill the selfish requests we make."
The genie was beaming. He grabbed me, and I was about to defend myself before I realized that he was hugging me. He pulled away saying, "Your wish has been granted." Then, still smiling, he vanished in a puff of smoke.
|
"Ok smart ass, you know damn well I didn't want all the cats in the world to be crazy about me. Look at my yard? Cats everywhere! And the noise! Did they all have to be in heat?"
"You wanted them to desire you." he sneered.
"Not fucking cats!!" I was furious. I walked over and slammed the window to block out the maddening wailing of a million animals needing to get laid. As I sat down I thought how can I get this right. He will play and twist everything I ask for into something no one in their right mind would want.
What to do... I have two wishes. I'd like at least one to really benefit me somehow.
"So what's your story Genie? You live in a lamp but you look like flesh and blood. What are you?" I asked while I was thinking.
"Genie's are of another dimension. The lamp is merely a wormhole of sorts allowing me to pass through. For some reason we are able to manipulate time, matter, even physics over here. In my dimension it's a pretty regular life. You're time is not linear to us. You rub me today and I'm in 2014. Tomorrow someone can rub me and I'll be in ancient Egypt. It's never really the same. So if you can hurry this along I'd like to get home."
"Can you only be released if I use all my wishes?"
"Yes"
"What about your power can you use it at your will over here?"
"Sort of, we have to be fulfilling a wish, we can use our power any way we choose to stay in the confines of the wish."
"And you can't go home until all 3 have been granted?"
"This is true now can we get on with it?"
Hmm… this could work.
“Ok wish two, now listen up. I wish to be immortal, no tricks, no word games and I’ll hurry up and take care of you so you’ll be out of here. I don’t want to age, I don’t want to die, I don’t want some Highlander bullshit where my head is going to be cut off. Straight up immortal. Can you do this?”
“You know what, I will. You’ll be surprised to learn this isn’t the first time. You’ll find the others.” He waved nonchalantly.
“Really” I was actually excited at the prospect of an everlasting life. “Ok then make it happen Genie”
I felt nothing different. Did you do anything? I yelled walking to the bathroom mirror. I heard him say something about giving death a try if I don’t believe him. I was looking into my eyes, nothing looked different. Should I try… I reached over a slammed the bathroom window. “Fucking cats!”
I walked back into the living room and the Genie was sitting on the couch. “Only one way to tell my friend.” He smiled. “Besides if you die before the 3rd wish I’d be trapped over here, so it’s in my best interest to not let you die right now.”
Could he be lying? He could be I suppose. How would I know? I have to just trust him. I took the sharpest knife I owned out of the drawer. I held it firmly in my right hand and sliced deep into my left wrist. The blinding white pain hit me like a train… then dulled… and dulled. I looked at the blood pooling on the counter and looked to my wrist as it began to close itself up.
“Holy shit! This is crazy!” I laughed while I washed the blood off my arm. The cut was completely closed now.
“There you go my friend. I kept my word” the Genie made a polite bow. “If we could get on with number 3 I’m rather in a rush.”
“Ahh good old number 3 let’s get on with it.” I walked over and picked up the lamp causing the other worldly being for come with me. I notice he cannot leave the vicinity of the lamp when I first let him out. He seems to be tethered to it somehow.
“Where are we going?” he asked. I told him I’d have to show him what I want for the next wish.
We stepped onto my boat the Slice of Life and I took the Genie to one of my favorite spots off the coast of Miami. As we rode out I kept telling him about how much I’d love to have my own island off the coast, really laying it on thick. Casinos, bars, clubs, and I almost convinced myself to have him make it for me but he needed to pay for his games.
We stopped and I could see on the depth finder we were in some very deep waters. No one would find anything out here. As I spoke to him I grabbed the anchor to ‘mark where I wanted the island’. I quickly grabbed his lamp and tied the line of the anchor around it.
“What are you doing?” He yelled. “I’ll drown!”
“I know I smiled” tossing the anchor in and cutting the line from the boat to let it sink to the bottom. The invisible tether pulling the Genie into the water with it.
As two suns set on the horizon a woman hangs up a phone with a tear running down her cheek. “Kids, it sounds like your father won’t be coming back this time.” She rubs her swollen pregnant belly.
Only three days from retirement she thought.
| 2014-10-20T07:31:52 | 2014-10-20T05:07:31 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] An adventurer reaches the end of an epic quest only to be presented with two options; he may keep his life or learn the truth.
|
Days of following little clues had led me here.
I hadn't slept in weeks. I was reminded of when my twins would alternate keeping me and Laura up at night for weeks on end.
I sighed.
I stared at the computer screen. It was Laura's work laptop. I realized that I had never actually used it without her.
I spent the next 3 hours obsessively searching through every file. Finally, in the Recycle Bin was a file marked *Steven*.
I had my suspicions for weeks. This would answer everything.
My finger hovered over the enter key. A tear slid down my face.
"Mark?" It was mother, dressed all in black. "The girls are in the car. We-we're ready to go."
"I'm coming, Mom." I said. I clicked on the file.
*Are you sure you want to permanently delete this file?*
I didn't hesitate this time. I hit enter, and walked out to the car that would take me to the cemetery.
|
It's strange, you know? I thought that reaching the end would actually be the end of it all. I thought it would be the last time I traveled to a foreign place and dealt with danger. I thought that death would be far from me. I thought that I would have more options presented to me.
But, instead, I'm presented with two options. Do I live to tell my tales? Do I become the famous adventurer that I had dreamt of since I was just a boy, or do give it all up in hopes that death will bring me truth?
It's a hard choice to make. If I live, I'm granted with another day to seek the truth for myself. But, if I choose death, I could just be given the truth without any worry of ever having to find it. I truly did hope this was my last adventure. I did.
The more I think about it, the more it becomes abundantly clear what I need to choose. What good is the truth, if you can't share it with everyone?
I thought this would be my last adventure. I thought wrong.
| 2014-10-22T10:17:53 | 2014-10-22T10:11:06 | 147 | 12 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
I just lost my job, it was really keen, repairing King Perger's Bruntungle machine.
Then I lost my wife, and I lost my dog, I lost my most favorite porcelain frog.
There's just nothing left, but depression and rum, which I can't afford cause I'm now just a bum.
Tell my mother I'm sorry, tell my sister I'm gone, tell Frink Fungle it was me who stole his pet fawn.
Goodbye pain, goodbye hate, goodbye floppy-eared freef, my struggle is over, this is a relief.
|
I am sad
Sad I am
Have i gone mad
I might just have
I would not could not anymore
my life is just one great big chore
I try to dream but cant escape
This life that i have learned to hate
Ive rustled and bustled
and truffled about
With bad thoughts and worse thoughts
I can't drown them out
So think me a coward
if thats what you must
And this cowards body
will be turned to dust
Goodbye to you all
I can't say that i'll miss you
but don't cry for me now,
Because I'm fresh out of tissue
Edit: Formatting
| 2015-01-17T04:52:27 | 2015-01-17T04:21:47 | 115 | 15 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
One pill
Two pills
Red pills
Blue pills
Black pill
Blue pill
Old pill
New pill
My wrist has a little scar
Maybe I will crash my car
Say! What a lot of pills there are
Some are blue
And some are red
Don't ask me why
I will soon be dead
|
Although it seems like I am happy.
My life right now is rather crappy.
Times are tough and moneys tight.
But that's OK cause it ends tonight.
I wish you well, and all the best.
I'm glad to get this off my chest.
By the time you read my one last quote.
You will realize it's my suicide note.
With love in my heart, I bid you farewell.
Fuck this world,I'll see you in hell.
| 2015-01-17T07:18:52 | 2015-01-17T05:25:17 | 79 | 42 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
I will not do it on a train
I will not do it on a plane
I will not do it in a house
I will not use a single mouse
I will not dangle from a cord
I will not shift a single board
I will not puddle on the floor
I will not seal a single door
I will not leave a single note
I will not hint in things I wrote
I will not leave a mess for a friend
I will not let them see this end
I will not leave them asking why
I will not let them have their try
I will not be grinning ear from ear
I will do nothing more than disappear
|
I do not want to live this life,
I do no longer love my wife,
I do not ever see my son,
I hardly even have some fun,
Today is good, tomorrow bad,
this up and down is all I've had.
I cannot take it, Sam I was,
I cannot take it, Sam because,
this life I live is killing me,
my family would prefer to be,
living their life, just without me,
It's for the best Sam, can't you see,
to step into infinity,
to plunge below the angry sea,
I hope you're happy family,
I hope life's better without me.
-Sam
Edit: formatting
| 2015-01-17T11:47:28 | 2015-01-17T10:04:01 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
The time has come to say farewell,
I doubt I'll do it very well.
The skills involved I lack you see
They, like my life, were not to be.
I'll miss the sky, the purple tree, my last blue pie, my last high tea
I will not cry, I will not try, I will not swim, I will not fly
I never could, I never should,
death comes soon,I hoped it would.
I draw my last and gasping breath,
green eggs and ham will bring my death
this note I leave for all to see,
life goes on, but not for me
|
I am sad
Sad I am
Have i gone mad
I might just have
I would not could not anymore
my life is just one great big chore
I try to dream but cant escape
This life that i have learned to hate
Ive rustled and bustled
and truffled about
With bad thoughts and worse thoughts
I can't drown them out
So think me a coward
if thats what you must
And this cowards body
will be turned to dust
Goodbye to you all
I can't say that i'll miss you
but don't cry for me now,
Because I'm fresh out of tissue
Edit: Formatting
| 2015-01-17T09:07:52 | 2015-01-17T04:21:47 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
I do not like life, not one bit.
I want to find a way to quit.
I sleep all day and I sleep all night.
I really do not want to fight.
Sorry mum and sorry dad.
I really wish life wasn't so bad.
Look after the dog and after the cat.
Please take care of them when I have gone splat.
Please oh please don't let your lives halt.
You must realise it's not your fault.
^^^^Edit:formatting
|
I am sad
Sad I am
Have i gone mad
I might just have
I would not could not anymore
my life is just one great big chore
I try to dream but cant escape
This life that i have learned to hate
Ive rustled and bustled
and truffled about
With bad thoughts and worse thoughts
I can't drown them out
So think me a coward
if thats what you must
And this cowards body
will be turned to dust
Goodbye to you all
I can't say that i'll miss you
but don't cry for me now,
Because I'm fresh out of tissue
Edit: Formatting
| 2015-01-17T07:28:39 | 2015-01-17T04:21:47 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] The creation of the universe is like a slowly loading webpage with Earth being one of the only pieces of "loaded" content. One day, without warning, the rest of the empty universe suddenly "loads."
|
"Franklin! Mr. Franklin!"
Professor Jonathan Franklin looked up from the papers covering his desk at the gasping intern. "What is it?" he said irritatedly.
"There's an anomaly."
The professor groaned. He closed his notebook, saving his page with his pencil. He had been on a roll, and felt as if he was on the verge of a breakthrough. "Alright," he said, rising wearily from his chair. "Show me."
He followed the intern through the halls of the Dark Matter Research Lab. "So Dark Matter isn't observable, except for its gravitational effects, right?" the intern chattered.
"Of course, yes." The professor really hoped that this wouldn't be a waste of time. "That should be obvious."
"Well, we just observed it."
"What?"
"A lot of it."
They reached the main computer, and the professor gasped.
The monitor was exploding with color. Where the pale blue dot had once been surrounded by darkness, it was now surrounded by thousands, millions, billions of other dots.
"Zoom out," Jonathan ordered.
The intern followed his directions. The blue dot disappeared, and they could see that the space between the galaxies was washed with stars. "Keep going." The individual lights of the stars blended together, and became a painting.
The two men stared at the monitor, and the grumpy cat stared back. The words **Loading Completed** hung below the cat's face.
"Professor? What's going on?"
The Professor shrugged. "Looks like we're a pixel, son."
|
I woke up after dark to the muted shattering of raindrops against my window. Chaos muffled and street lamps diffused by thick red curtains. It was eerie but strangely calming. It didn't exactly sound like chaos, imagine the sound of a peaceful riot under torrid rain behind a brick wall, a glass window covered by curtains, inside a carpeted room. Everything was turned down but there was this electricity in the air, it was like reading a violent poem written by beautifully thin handwriting. I wrap my blanket around me as i walk to the only source of light in my room, the cold was unbearable but i've grown to prefer it over warmth. I peeked outside my window and saw the sidewalks lined up with people soaked in rain, my neighbors, familiar faces staring at the sky, no one was moving or talking but there was a collective look of panic on their faces. I looked up but saw nothing, at least from where i was standing, so i put on a coat and a pair of jeans and stormed out the room. That's when people started screaming. I was frozen. This was not your typical hollywood-catastrophe-panic-crowd-screaming, these were sounds i've never even heard of before, and knowing that they're coming from people i know made it all more disturbing. I run back to the window to look down at the street below me but as i drew the curtains, almost immediately, i look up... The bloodied streets paled in comparison to what i saw in the sky. A giant internet explorer window trying to access a yahoo mail account.
| 2015-02-09T13:50:50 | 2015-02-09T11:28:17 | 135 | 18 |
[WP] Write a soldier's journal entry on his first day at war. Then write his last journal entry.
|
Day One:
It’s nerve wracking being part of the military. The officers are terrifying. Orders are rapidly given to us. The officers know what they’re doing; they have been in many wars before, so I trust them. I’m scared because they are sending out everyone they can get as soon as possible. I have been training for this moment, but I can’t but feel nervous. I know I have to fight. If I don’t, then what will happen to Mom, Dad, and Julie? I have to be strong for them. I won’t let them face these horrors. I will become the best soldier. I will come home and make them proud of me.
Day Two:
I go into battle today. This is my chance.
|
November 7th
A brand new notebook and I won't even be able to use it. That's what I regret most about joining the army. I had nothing else really going for me, and I thought I would at least be able to do some good in the world out here in the middle of god-knows-where. But, instead I go out and get myself shot on my first fucking mission. I'm one of the lucky ones. They were fucking waiting for us and we were ambushed. At least I was one of the lucky ones. I was found, in pain but still alive. The doctors said there's nothing they can do. The bullet ripped too much of me apart. So I'll just sit here and scribble. And I just bought this fucking notebook, too.
| 2015-03-11T20:19:00 | 2015-03-11T17:58:16 | 52 | 24 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies.
|
Today is the day I become a full person. Today is my 16th birthday.
&nbsp;
Today is the day my parents and I go to the Soul Vault. I've never been inside though I've heard the stories. Mountains and mountains of every object imaginable wrapped in bubble plastic. Automated scanners cataloging every item's resonance to the birth records of the day.
&nbsp;
Inside the vault one object contains part of me. Without it I will never be whole. With it I will be vulnerable. Whatever it is, once someone comes into contact with their Object they can't stand being separated from it again.
&nbsp;
I'm nervous. I put my hand on the glass plate and confirm my identity. The service clerck drones on about machines on the inside of the Vault fetching my Object. I barely listen. All kinds of doom scenarios flash before my eyes. What if it's a light bulb? Or worse, a vial of trinitrotoluene? How would I ever live my life having to carry such a fragile object around?
&nbsp;
I could live with a piece of wood. Ever since that ancient king plenty of people resonated with a piece of wood. Everybody understands why they stay away from bonfires and barbecues. I'd even manage living with a piece of girlish jewelry. While mocked in high school, later in life women usually threw themselves at men with a female Object. All women wanted to be the one trusted enough to wear their partner's Object.
&nbsp;
What if I unwrap the protective plastic and inside there'd be more bubble plastic? Who can resist popping bubble plastic?
&nbsp;
Or an egg? No, don't be silly, living things can't be Objects.
&nbsp;
Or what i- ... I kill my train of thought and draw a deep breath. The hatch in front of me opens and a small box is pushed out. Good. At least I won't have to go through life pushing a boulder around. I like skiing way too much for that.
&nbsp;
I open the box and start unwrapping the plastic. Luckily my parents can't see how badly my hands are shaking. I read the tiny card that comes with the Object and suddenly become very calm.
&nbsp;
"Well, honey?" my mother inquires expectantly with a tinge of worry. I smile broadly and show my Object.
&nbsp;
"Don't worry, mum, my Object is a tungsten D20."
|
Whenever a child is born, an elder divines the object that their soul joins with. It sets you out for life. It must always be with you. For once it is broken, your soul returns to the Wheel to be reborn.
My Father, he had a rock carving of a warrior. Big and strong, like the man he grew into.
My mother, a Diamond pendant. Beautiful with delicate craftsmanship.
For years I have protected mine.
Cared for it.
Preserved it.
Just to keep myself alive.
But its not living. Hiding away from the world. Fearful of the slightest gust of wind, the smallest of nudge from someone in a crowd.
In my youth I wrapped it up, safe and secure. Or so I thought.
I was a beautiful child. Fair of head, bright of eye. Always smiling.
So they told me.
But I was delicate. Brittle. I tripped on a rock in the middle of my village. A small fall for a child.
It left me broken. My arm will never be straight. It hangs, shrivelled and useless.
My soul cage had cracked.
I saw the look in my mothers eyes. Her and Father argued a lot. He was embarrassed of what they had produced. Me. She wanted to protect me from harm.
In the night we left. Just the two of us. Far we travelled. After the first accident, the pace slowed. With my now limp leg dragging behind me as my mother dragged me on, we stopped at the first cave we saw.
This would be our new home. She would always care for me, she said. I was her special boy.
That was years ago. She's gone. Not even the strongest soul cage can defy the reality of the mortal body.
Yet still I go on.
But no more. While I still have use of one hand, I will end it.
It sits on the rock. Glinting. It feels alive.
The small, cracked, delicate glass egg that has been the curse of my life.
My warped body didn't get the job done. It wasn't destroyed.
It rests against the tip of my nose. Taunting me. Almost gone, but just enough intact. Forever out of reach.
Of course that would have been too easy. I should have known.
3 days. It's been 3 days now. I can't so much as twitch. Just stare at the egg.
My only solace remaining is death from dehydration can not be far.
| 2015-04-18T03:19:00 | 2015-04-18T01:19:14 | 67 | 38 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies.
|
My father was a violent man. He hurt many other people before he met my mother. Even after falling in love, he was still a violent man, he just kept it contained much better. When mom found out she was pregnant, both were elated. My father had one request. "If it's a boy, I select his Link. Otherwise, choose whatever you want. But if it's a boy, no matter what I choose, you promise me I get to pick." It was the most intense she had seen dad. Not violent in this moment, intense.
On the day of my birth, when the midwife told them both "It's a BOY!" my mother's face was filled with joy. My father was happy, but he looked at mom and said "I have to go get it. I'll use the money we put aside." Mom was concerned with the look in his eyes, but the man had earned her trust, adoration, and love.
Most parents put aside some money to make sure and select a quality Link. They don't want it to fall apart. Further, most shops give a deal if you want something for a Link. It's good business, a sign of public trust. Dad had saved up more than most.
When dad brought back a sword, mom lost it. "You will NOT make my boy a KILLER!" She nearly screamed.
"Love, I will make sure he understands. Every time he swings this sword, it will hurt. Every time the blade chips, he will cry. Maintaining the blade will be agony. And I'll make sure he knows this. He won't be a killer because every time he thinks to use the blade, he'll feel the pain it might cause, and only choose to use it when it's worth it."
|
I was playing ultimate frisbee when I felt like I'd been punched in the face. A few seconds later, I felt another phantom punch to my gut, and I nearly passed out.
*What did you get yourself into this time, Jeremy?*
---
Let me back up for a moment. When we were born, Jeremy and I each had an avatar just like everyone else, but my mom did a bit of soul magic to combine mine and Jeremy's avatars into one.
Why? I don't know. Maybe she wanted us to be close like her and her sister never were. Or maybe she believed some weird superstition about twins, which is exactly what you'd expect from someone who actually did *soul magic* in this day and age. Ugh.
Either way, now whenever Jeremy goes off and does something stupid, our shared avatar gets damaged, which means **I** get hurt.
---
Ok, back to the present. "Kevin, call – argh! - call 911!"
Kevin had seen this enough times to know exactly what was going on. A few minutes after he dialed 911 an ambulance showed up. I was still getting "pummeled."
"Hi, yeah, my friend over here's in a lot of pain. I think he might have left his avatar in the washing machine again!"
The paramedic said something I couldn't quite make out.
"Oh yeah he has avatar insurance. Blue Cross, I think."
They hooked me up to an IV and I felt my mana starting to return. Now, I felt each "punch" less and less until there was virtually no pain. At this point Jeremy had almost definitely gained the upper hand in whatever idiotic bar fight he'd started.
---
One of these days, I'm going to find one of those soul magic weirdos and get them to decouple our avatars. And then Jeremy's finally gonna have to deal with not having me around to bail him out.
| 2015-04-18T07:25:53 | 2015-04-18T00:21:56 | 30 | 19 |
[WP]: "Don't tap on the glass, dear. It disturbs the humans."
|
"So what if they're disturbed, grandma?" said the boy to his grandmother.
"It's because they provide us with everything we have and they need their rest." Answered the grandmother.
"So what if they don't provide us with what we need, grandma?" said the boy
"I didn't say they provide us with what we need, I said they provide us with what we have. They provide us with who we are, really. But they can only do it if they are not disturbed."
Behind the glass is Lisa in her bedroom, Lisa is a 26 year old accountant who just lost her job. Lisa is sitting on the edge of the bed, silent, she puts her face between her palms..
Suddenly the boy starts yelling "I CAN'T SEE GRANDMA, I CAN'T SEE"
"It's ok dear, you need to calm down and just stay away from the glass, we're all here with you, the whole family" said the grandmother in a shaky voice
Meanwhile, Lisa is trying to collect herself, fighting her tears back, but the memory of the loss is too fresh, it won't stop replaying in head again and again, louder and louder, and just then.. The little boy, unable to see, stumbles and hits the glass and it immediately shatters. Flooding out from behind it come the little boy, the grandmother, and everybody else..
Lisa wipes them away.
|
As the kid loudly tapped on the glass to get the attention from the other side, the humans were so stubborn about giving attention and time to something they didn't respectfully care for. The kid disappointingly looked at his father.
"Father," the kid asked, "why wont they just look over here. I want to get it's attention."
"Well son maybe they don't like being in a cage that they can't interact with the universe in." The father began answering.
"But, I, them to see me." The gloomy kid chirped together.
"Son it's not always that easy." The father saying with inspiring words that brought his son out of darkness. "Let me put it this way: if there were greater beings than us and they had to build a simulational zoo around us to effectively learn how they grew the way they did, do you think we would notice?" Asked the dad.
"I'm not sure..." Pondered the kid.
"Well it may very well be that they have no understanding of what is going on beyond that universal simulating globe. They are creating science and learning technology. They are beginning to use computers and organize their time correctly. Maybe in your life time you will be able to interact with a human on a level that they understand because they have progressed enough to understand us." Replied the father to his own question.
Editors note: Woah..
Edit: fixed some of the grammar on my iPhone. Please let me know if you see anything else.
| 2015-04-21T14:48:46 | 2015-04-21T14:47:21 | 166 | 16 |
[WP] Like in many possession horror films, a demon is attempting to mentally torment the main character. They, however, are a sociopath and are unbothered by all of it.
In every horror movie, the possessed family member does a giant guilt trip at some point. I was thinking, how would the demon respond if the character really just did not care?
|
**"Why did you have to kill both of them?"**
"Well I would have had a witness otherwise, wouldn't I?"
**"Yeah but I'd made a deal with Alec. I could have his immortal soul if he could see all of Caroline's naked selfies from here 'til the day he died. He hadn't even seen one yet, so now his soul is lost to me."**
"Is that really what Alec asked you?"
**"Look Dennis, I don't know whats wrong with your generation, seriously, I'm getting souls promised to me if they can have six-pack abs by the summer. It used to be empires and living to a thousand years, you know?"**
"Sounds like you've been talking to the wrong people."
**"You sure as hell don't lack ambition, I'll give you that."**
"Why are you taking me to the university's archives now, Lucifer?"
**"Oh this is good - you're going to add some pen marks to Deirde's latest tests, her professor thinks she's been copying, and this will prove it to him. If I've done my maths right, she'll get kicked out of university and her parents won't talk to her. She'll get drunk and meet one of my pledged souls who is out to screw as many girls as possible. Next morning she'll feel guilty when she realises the guy is her sister's new boyfriend. He's just the right kind of douchebag. At which point she'll pledge her soul to wipe both their memories."**
"Why don't you make her get chlamydia too?"
**"Fucking hell Dennis, you are messed up."**
"Hey listen, seeing as we're in the archives, how about this, why don't we find a really high-marking test and leave a kiss mark on it with lipstick. Then change the test so it's wrong. Spread the rumour the professor's sleeping with the student in exchange for grades. Loses tenure, exiled from academia, scandal in the papers, pledges his soul to you, all that good stuff. So I can make up for Alec."
**"You know... that's not a bad idea. You're a little sex-mad though. Do you want to pledge your soul to me? I could use your creativity."**
"How about we just collaborate until they send me to an asylum, then I can get everyone in there to pledge -their- souls and we could start a riot."
**"Honestly, Dennis, if I wasn't an immortal fallen angel, I'd be scared of you stealing my job. Let's get on with it then."**
Edit: Quotation marks.
|
The man in red wakes up on the couch and finds that he can't remember the previous night's events. As he gets up he sees a dead woman on the floor in a pool of her own blood.
**KILLED HER. I MADE YOU KILL HER. YOU MURDERER. YOU KILLED HER. I MADE YOU KILL HER. YOU ARE POWERLESS TO-**
"Oh man! That blood will never get out of the rug, and it really tied the room together"
**WHAT?**
"Hey hey! A new voice!"
"*as if it wasn't already crowded in here enough already*"
~Three's company, fours a crowd~
"I liked that show"
**I DON'T UNDERSTAND, WHY IS THE DEAD WOMAN NOT BOTHERING YOU?**
"Wouldn't be the first."
**I'M A DEMON THAT HAS POSSESSED YOU.**
"Wouldn't be the first"
**YOU WELL BEND TO MY WILL, FOR I AM THE GREAT AND EVIL DEMON LUC-**
"I'm gonna call you Lucy"
**NO**
"Awww, why not?"
**BECAUSE I AM THE GREAT AND EVIL DEMON LUC-**
"Or how about Ged. Short for great and evil"
**GOD DAMN IT! WILL YOU STOP INTURUPTING ME!**
"no promises"
"*so what are we going to do about the body and the rug?*"
~Give it to the Punisher. He probably needs an excuse not to be happy~
"Nah, he is in Germany right now and I'm banned from there"
**HOW DO YOU GET BANNED FROM A WHOLE COUNTRY?**
"Flashback time!"
(600 million BC)
Dinosaurs roamed the land.
"Oops, too far back"
"*he got drunk in October fest and started gluing Hitler mustaches on everyone*"
**THAT'S HILARIOUS**
~Germans got no sense of humor~
"*So, what about the body. We can't leave it here*"
"Think Batman could use something to brood over?"
"*Batman isn't part of our universe*"
~I'm Batman!~
**YOU REALLY DON'T CARE THAT I'M HERE, DO YOU?**
"Are you feeling left out?"
**KIND OF**
"Do you want to be Batman?"
**YES**
"Then consider yourself an orphan, because you are now batman!"
~I want pancakes~
"Mmm, pancakes"
"*What of the dead....oh never mind.*"
| 2015-06-04T06:52:27 | 2015-06-04T06:49:42 | 122 | 82 |
[WP] Like in many possession horror films, a demon is attempting to mentally torment the main character. They, however, are a sociopath and are unbothered by all of it.
In every horror movie, the possessed family member does a giant guilt trip at some point. I was thinking, how would the demon respond if the character really just did not care?
|
**"Oh... Look what you did to Marcy... What will your mother think?"**
Rita knelt over her sister's mangled body, ax held loosely in her left hand. The blood splatter managed to coat most of her face and chest, so she had trouble wiping it clean from her eyes. She hesitated a moment before giving her answer.
"Yeah, I've been wondering that for a while."
**"What do you mean 'a while'? I've only been in control of you for 12 hours."**
"In control? Oh Garvas, I've just been using your creative input. Great stuff, by the way, but way too tame for my taste."
Rita stood and tossed the ax next to her sister's body carelessly. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, over the cold stone floor that had always been cruel to her delicate feet, the storage cabinet that their father was always in and out of during his summer projects, the pile of bodies from which she had harvested limbs and organs so carefully.
Ever so carefully. Nothing would ruin a good piece of anatomy like poor craftsmanship. Garvas had had her take four limbs, two eyes, a brain, a heart, a stomach, two lungs, and a spine each from twelve different individuals to complete some ritual to bring him into the physical world. But these were not merely the tools of a demon. To Rita, these were the trophies of an artist. The prizes won by carefully selecting and silencing your prey. Those pieces were all placed carefully in the large cursed chest Garvas's spirit had originally possessed, then used to "take over" her. Those pieces were safe away upstairs.
She walked across the floor to the canisters of lighter fluid in the cabinet and began dousing the room.
**"What are you doing? This basement is the location needed to complete the ritual! We've collected the samples from all 12 bodies and now the final kill!"**
"I know, and it's been a blast. Really enjoyed myself along the way. Learned some things, grew as a person, whatever. But if you want to be respawned into the mortal world with your hell army, you're going to have to find someone else to do that. I have to finish the rest of my own... ritual."
As the words escaped her lips, Rita walked up the basement steps. Garvas's bellows of anger boomed in her mind, deafening any thoughts. As she reached the top, she struck a match and tossed it into the pungent liquid with a smirk. Immediately the room caught and she turned her back on that part of her adventure.
((This is my first WP submission so I'm really nervous. Anxiously awaiting your feedback!))
EDIT: Added some detail and adjusted things to match. I might add more about Rita's "ritual" if I get some time tonight!
|
“A quiet, lonely Young Man in an old creaking house in the dead of a stormy night…”
The Demon takes a moment to consider his good fortune. In this post-Exorcist world, most of his kind end up back in Hell, starved to a second death without sufficient torment to feed on.
“…This will make for an easy meal. I do need this.”
Bounding between the wild shadows of the wind shaken trees, the Demon makes his way to the rotten threshold of the weathered home. The unnatural wail of his movement is sure to wake his prey. As the Demon arrives to his destination he presses a long and sharp claw against the old door, forcing it open with a slow groan. A perplexed expression grows on the Demon’s face. He usually feels some sense of nourishment by this point, but there is nothing.
“My quarry must be in a deep sleep. No bother, graceful is merely a school of thought.”
With a flick of his bony wrist every door and window shutter of the house snap shut in thundering unison. Perplexed gives way to a look mild frustration as the Demon still feels no fear induced satisfaction. Having considered the possibility that he may have been wrong in his sense that there was a soul in the home, the Demon turns to leave. His resolve to exit is broken by the voice of the Young Man behind him.
“So you’re just going to give it up? Just like that? Your hunger has to be getting just about unbearable by now.”
Spinning quickly, the Demon aims his hellish gaze onto the Young Man. The eyes of a Demon are their most powerful weapon. Images of the horrors of Hell are projected into the mind of any human unfortunate enough to meet the stare. The Demon expects fully to see the Young Man drop to his knees, screaming in terror. The Young Man casually scratches his head, as if immune to fear.
“Yeah. Pain and agony for all eternity, watching your loved ones suffer… So, what made you decide to come back to this world? Don’t you remember traffic? Can’t you recall people talking in the theater?”
Truly dumbfounded, the Demon finds himself unable to respond to the Young Man’s question.
“You’re not the first to find this place, Devil. Demon. Whatever. I’m guessing that you all see this place and assume it to be the Holy Grail-see what I did there?-of fear farming.”
Never before has the Demon met a man like this. Seemingly unable to be afraid. The Demon needed this house to provide him with life-sustaining torment. His body slumps to the floor, no longer able to hold up its own weight. The darkness of the room recedes, showing the Demon the familiar sight of a fiery river.
“Wh...What are you?”
A small smirk comes to the empty face of the Young Man as he watches the Demon struggle to take his last breath.
“Kind of hungry.”
| 2015-06-04T08:51:51 | 2015-06-04T07:14:27 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though.
|
The voices of the Arch Angel's heralds sang unto the world,'Praises be to he upon the throne of our Kingdom of Heaven, for he shall rise again, for the battle at the end of days upon the Earth! In three score and ten years, the father of Christ will return with the righteous to lead the final holy war!'
Then they sang the small print... an apocalyptic war between the angels and the denizens of hell, with the righteous fighting at God's side, and the damned at the side of the Devil. It was, of course, assumed that God would win, and so an eternity of heaven-upon-earth would be duly awarded to these victors.
So it came to pass - seventy years later, the blazing light of heaven shone upon the Earth from the sky, and the gaping maws of hell opened in the ground. The shining battalions of the halo brigade swept across the Earth to conscript the godly souls, and the grunting red beasts of Beezelbub scurried forth to draft their own foot soldiers.
And yet.
There was not a single soul to be found. For hours they searched, until they met on the plains of Nazareth. God and Satan face to face.
'Erm. Hi Satan.'
'Yeah, uh, hi.'
'So... Did you find anyone?'
'No... not a soul, how about yourse...'
As he spoke, his voice was drowned out by the heralds of the Arch Angel, whose voices from afar chorused:
'We found a note... it says they all left Earth.'
God looked confused.
'Where to?'
'Give us a second... let's see here... apparently to some other planets they found.'
'So we're, stuck on Earth for eternity without any humans?'
'Seems like it...'
Satan looked at God, and grumbled, 'Seriously... you couldn't have written "Earth, or any other planet you decide to up sticks and head to"? For fucks sake...'
Turning tale, he took his cohorts and ambled back to hell, leaving God to his empty paradise.
|
Mission Report: 2408123
Subsection: Military
Unit: Beta
Officer: Lieutenant Reeves
Dear Mother,
We've moved into what's left of Venus's hell-like atmosphere. My unit was hit hard by the gasses, it took us nearly twice as long to adjust to the pressure difference as Alpha unit. Our losses have been minimal, and I'm in perfectly good health. NASA has been most accommodating, the nurses and medical staff are all over us, preparing us to enter what's left of this hellish planet. My tour is complete in two weeks, so if my rocket leaves on time, I should be home in time for Mother's day. SpaceX has been keeping the transportation slowed, though, due to some kind of interference in the radio waves created by our cellphones. But, with luck, I'll be on time.
I talked to Murph the other day, she says that Mars has been equally challenging. The cold is constantly breaking through the seals and their compounds are having issues with weapons cold welding to each other. Every time a bullet is welded to the barrel of a gun we lose a man.
On a separate note, Alpha squadron found new traces of Elon Musk. He and his neo-nazi crowd have managed to make it all the way to Mercury. SpaceX is especially helpful, leaving no expense spared in the search for their disgraced CEO.
How are things at home? News of the conspiracy theorists has reached even out here, granted the military tries to censor it. But, if what we hear is true, the Nazis have been sending people to Venus and Mercury since the beginning of time. That, and there are rumors they're mixed in with the Illuminati.
As I write, I hear another rain of ammo coming in overhead. Without a doubt it's another barrage of Tiger Tank shells, they don't seem to understand their outdated WWII technology is no match for our new tanks. Oh well, they'll learn the hard way.
Write you again soon!
Love, Reeves
Side note: I kinda had less motivation on this one, I felt like writing something in a letter form and this is what was produced, but I didn't feel that a soldier would be writing a 10,000 character letter home in the middle of a battlefield.
| 2015-09-24T09:22:58 | 2015-09-24T07:05:34 | 52 | 17 |
[WP] You are an innkeeper in an RPG and get yelled at because sleeping there does not heal wounds.
|
"Do you see this??" the Lone Survivor roared, pointing to his left arm which was dangling limply at his side. There were white bones jutting out from the elbow, and trickles of dried blood had marked his forearm with black streaks.
I did my best not to vomit. "It... ugh... looks like you could use a doctor."
"I used to be a doctor! I lived in a vault and studied diseases in mole rats!" His companion chimed in with a cheerful smile full of wonderment. "And also I was a robot!" *Sure, lady. You could probably use a doctor too*. At least she behaved better than that alcoholic ghoul he'd brought in last week. How he got that beast past security and into the city was beyond me.
"It's *not healed*!" the Lone Survivor shouted back. He poked at it with the barrel of his laser pistol as if to emphasize how not healed it was. The broken arm swung like a pendulum, barely managing to cling to his shoulder. The bones inside seemed to have been utterly liquified. Lost an arm wrestling match with a supermutant, maybe. "And I slept the whole night!"
"Look, I can offer you some food, or something..." It was getting harder and harder to hold down my breakfast whenever I looked at his arm. *Shouldn't have had that extra helping of crispy squirrel bits.* "Or maybe some vodka? That would help..." As I struggled to think of how to respond to his absurd demands, the Lone Survivor crouched down in front of me and began going through my pockets. Which was pretty amazing, given that he was also still holding the gun in his one good hand. We made awkward eye contact as he removed the handful of caps in my back pocket and put them into his own bag. *Do I... do I say something?* "Look, I'm sorry you're hurt and all, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"No." He crossed his arms, which took some effort to get the limp, broken one in the right place. "I paid for a whole damn night at your hotel instead of traveling back to Sanctuary Hills, OK? I think I deserve to wake up with my arm healed. I want my caps refunded."
*The caps you just stole???* I wanted to scream. This guy was clearly deranged. He and this Curie girl must have spent too long out in the Glowing Sea. "I told you, buddy. We don't do that. You're going to need to visit the doctor down in the market if you want to do something about that arm."
He shot me in the head in response. Every other patron and security officer in the inn drew their weapons and shot back as I sprawled onto the carpet in front of the cash register. The Sole Survivor moved like a blur, shooting one guest after another in the head until the walls were painted with blood and gore and grenade shrapnel. With the last of my dying sight, I saw him look into his pip boy and heard him mutter. "Stupid shitty bugged game... piece of Bethesda crap... making me reload my save..."
----
I was standing at the bar washing one of my three cups with a dirty rag when the Sole Survivor walked in with a female companion. His arm swung at his side like an empty sock that someone had tacked onto his shoulder. A mininuke-loaded Fat Man was strapped to his back, beeping dangerously.
He slammed ten caps down on the counter: "Give me a room."
|
"Delphine runs the inn. I cook. Ain't much else to tell."
The traveler stands in front of me, Bosmer, his eyes a deep orange. He'd come in late last night, asking for a room. I'd gladly obliged, he'd paid the fare of ten septims, and went straight to his room. There didn't seem to be any problems, and yet now his eyes were ablaze with anger.
"Do you see this?" The traveler pulled open a tear in his fur armor, revealing a deep red slash across his chest. "Snow bear. Tore right through the armor. My stitches kept coming out on the way back to Riverwood, Shadowmere doesn't offer much in the way of comfort."
I waited for him to continue, I sensed this was leading to something, but I wasn't sure what.
"Would you like a potion to help you with that? You should head to the Riverwood Trader, they might have something you could use." I chimed.
"I don't want any of your damned potions! I came here to *recover* from this horseshit! I payed you my damn ten gold, now why is this still here!?" The traveler yelled, pointing to his bleeding slash. "It's going to leave a scar at this rate! Not that I don't have plenty those, but it hurts like hell!"
"I'm sorry to hear that." My voice was now bitter. "But our beds aren't enchanted and won't heal your wounds overnight."
"You...what? Of course they are!" The Bosmer's eyes grew narrow in anger. "I've slept here before, my wounds have always disappeared after a full night's sleep!"
"Perhaps you were hitting skooma the nights previous?"
Alvor chuckled at his table.
"You listen to me you son of a bitch!" The Bosmer's voice rose. "*Every* other inn i've been to has healed me overnight, without fail. Either you're shitting on my day for some bloody reason, or the Daedra have cursed this place. Either way, i'm not leaving here without my ten gold."
"At first I found this amusing, but now you want your coin back?" I leered. "I never said my beds would be enchanted, you're in no right to make such a request. Now get the hell out of here before I call the guards, and get over that bloody bear cut!"
"Really? Have you ever been clawed by a bear before? It's worse than a dragon. I'd rather fight ten dragons than a single snow bear. At least I get the satisfaction of absorbing a dragon's soul after i'm done killing it. Now I have to come home from a tiresome bear fight, to *your* sorry ass, telling me that I should've known your beds wouldn't heal me up anymore!"
I smiled. "Ah, the Dragonborn, I knew I recognised you. Expect me to drop to your feet and kiss them? Wipe the tears from your cheeks? Spend my life savings on a black soul gem so I can enchant my beds to heal your poor, scratched, milk-drinking skin?"
The tavern roared with laughter, the Dragonborn's cheeks growing red.
"You know what? Fuck you! Fuck your tavern! **FUS RO DAH!** Go fuck yourselves!" Upon the utterance of the ancient dragon words, an entire table is lifted from the ground and shatters against the stone wall of the tavern. The Dragonborn storms over to the exit.
"Come on, Serana. Let's get the hell out of here."
The heavy wooden door slams shut, leaving a bunch of laughing nords and an unfortunate mess behind. I sigh and grab my broom. Another hard day in Skyrim.
| 2016-01-05T06:13:47 | 2016-01-05T05:56:17 | 960 | 696 |
[WP] You are an innkeeper in an RPG and get yelled at because sleeping there does not heal wounds.
|
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I smiled cheerfully at the man who stands by the disk. That man must be a true Hero. He has that look about him. Unlike the rest of the rugged travelers.
"No. I already slept here, but my wounds haven't healed. I think there is something wrong with your Inn." The man sounds annoyed.
"Oh. Well, maybe next time." I answer with a disappointed shrug.
"Look, I really need to get my health up if I'm going to complete this mission, so just give me another room, one that will work this time! Or point me in the direction of an items shop or something." The guy insists.
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I chime hopefully. He seems like he could use some rest. It must have been one mighty quest this man was returning from.
"No! Look, I just need to get my health up! What the fuck is wrong with this Inn. Now give me a working room that will do that or I'll swear to god-" The man is growing flustered.
"Oh. Well, maybe next time." I apologies.
"Look, you stupid piece of shit! You give me a fucking room that will heal my fucking wounds or I'll rip your stupid head of!" The guy shouts angrily. This man must be a really important one, few other customers were ever so colorful or varying in their speech.
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I say hopefully. It's always good with travelers as customers.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS FUCKING INN?!" The guy screams. He pulls out his sword and starts chopping widely in the air towards me.
"Ah!" I exclaim and duck, my hands over my head. The guy is going berserker, chopping towards me furiously with his large shining broadsword. Splinters fly away from the counter as he continues chopping.
For a moment I think the man is going to stop and I straighten up. But I realies I was mistaken as he continues. "Ah!" I call again, putting my hands over my head and duck behind the disk.
"YOU STUPID... GOAT!" The man chops for a good while more before he finally calms down. I straighten up and the man turns towards me.
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I greet him cheerfully.
"Fine. Maybe it was just a bug." The man say in a defeated voice and throws a bag of coins on the counter. I pick it up and put it in my pocket.
"Thank you, traveler! Enjoy your stay!" I chime happily. It's always good with some new traveling heroes to add some gold to my stash.
------------------
Edit: details. And disk-> counter. Apparently I'm mixing my languages. Gill-> Gil
|
Title: It Always Worked Before
"I'M STILL BLEEDING OUT."
"I don't know what to tell ya I just have a bunch of beds," said the Innkeeper.
The bleeding man's agonized cries persisted. He writhed on the bed and was wearing some type of light armor. There was blood all over the bedsheets and there was a trail along the floor. The innkeeper was a short, balding, lovable man who might remind you of Danny Devito, and he wasn't too happy about the circumstance.
"Didn't know you were hurt this bad yesterday goodness gracious. Seriously though," said the Innkeeper. He pointed at the ground like it was disgusting and stupid. "Who the hell thinks going to sleep keeps them from needing surgery? You look like you've got some serious damage done to your internal organs."
"Well that's what happens when YOU BATTLE DRAGONS FOR A LIVING, ahhh owww."
It hurt for the man to shout. Too many abrupt movements, made the deep cuts hurt even more.
"Well, there's a witch or something who lives across the street," said the innkeeper. He pushed his glasses up and looked through the window. "I think she's full of shit personally but you've got to try something to get that bleeding under control."
"There was music," said the man. He was huddled up into a ball on the bed and trying to ignore the pain. "I heard a nice playful tune. There's always a nice playful tune when I get healed at an inn. I get hurt real bad, I check my quest map, I locate an inn, I go inside, the screen goes black, and a fucking song plays and A SONG PLAYED YOU MADE A HAPPY HEALING SONG PLAY."
"In your head kid, hey I think that witch lady is coming out of her house," said the Innkeeper.
"I HEARD A SONG, owwwwww," Too much screaming from the fantasy warrior. His spirit was weakening. "I should be healed right now and finishing off the Balrog coming for the town, but no. No, I feel it. I feel it, oh no it's happening."
"What's happening?" said the Innkeeper.
"The Game Over screen is coming *I can feel it*," said the man. His eyes faded out. "I don't know what will happen to you and your universe when I die."
"You're a real egotist," said the Innkeeper.
But then the whole world began to shake. And the warrior breathed his last. Suddenly there was a sad song playing in the room as an earthquake came and caused time to slow still.
"WHOA," said the Innkeeper. A lamp fell off a table and broke. He knelt down and grabbed the bed. But the world just shook and he only pulled the bed sheet down. "This is NUTS."
And a sudden text appeared, in Georgia font. It read:
**GAME OVER**
The Innkeeper and all his universe vanished to the sound of their universe's game over song.
| 2016-01-05T06:43:01 | 2016-01-05T06:08:46 | 113 | 35 |
[WP] Scientists are now able to recreate a person's last sentence before they died, leading to thousands of solved murder cases. However, one victim's last words leave detectives baffled.
|
*"What the hell does that mean?"* demanded the old detective, taking another puff from his cigar. *"I mean, not only is this not a murder investigation, but I don't even see the relevance in that phrase!"*
*"We called you here because once we heard his last words we weren't sure what to think! We thought it might be important."* The old woman said, desperately and almost out of breath.
Granted, the man lying before them was a rather significant figure in society. But the detective had explained, there was nothing suspicious about his death in the least. That is, until his last words were played back.
*"Okay, let's assume this isn't a death by natural causes."* Began the detective. *"Let's assume this is a murder, somehow. If he was being murdered then why not say the culprit's name? Why not make it easy for us? Instead he says this nonsense!"* Exclaimed the detective, hands waving in the air.
The man had died alone in his bed. Had it not been for the ability of the coroner to play back the deceased's last words, none of them would be here arguing about this. And it was only a single solitary word. Not a name, just a word.
The detective paced across the room and then stopped to look at the mess on the floor which a forensic technician was photographing and cataloging in case the incident became a real investigation.
*"I don't even know how that... that... damned snowglobe is even relevant!"* The detective said to the technician. *"Rosebud? What kind of crap is that anyways?... He was probably senile."*
|
All was quiet at 6am in the station. I was the only one there. I stayed here eagerly waiting on Johnson to return. Johnson had gone to Chicago to retrieve the results of the test.
The test was in it's early stages, with a few minor glitches with the system in forms of grammar and spelling.
But today it was finally ready for it's first test.
The public has always been curious about exactly how Michael Jackson had died. So today, with permission from the family, we would finally find out.
Johnson bust through the door at 6:15 sharp just as we planned. "Damian! Damian Damian! It's here it's right here!" he exclaimed as he passed the front desk. I stood up and darted towards him, "What? What does it say Johnson?"
"His whole image in his later life... It's all..."
"Spit it out, damnit!"
"He was faking it! He wasn't an avid drug addict!"
"What? How on Earth did he die then?"
Johnson pulled out the documentation. He slowly unfolded it and turned the paper towards me.
"I knew it would come to this, you sick, psychotic man... Well of course I tried to tell them you were "Bad" but they could not take the hint... So this is it then? Just a needle in my arm and I'm dead... I'll just be another washed up celebrity that got too into their recreation... Well they will find out you did it Georgie... Yeah they always find a way."
The page ends. I flip it over to the back.
"You know I was always an Al Gore fan. I wish you luck when they find out that you did 9/11 Bush!"
The page ends there.
| 2016-02-07T18:59:13 | 2016-02-07T17:28:21 | 136 | 20 |
[WP] Create a story where the characters live in a world where something is fundementally different with reality and leave the reader to guess what it is. For example: entropy is reversed, gravity goes sideways, all people can read minds, etc.
|
Angela looked up to find a familiar face approaching the park bench.
"Mom," said Angela. "How did you find me here?"
Angela's mother ignored her question and reached in for a hug. Angela exhaled slowly and hugged back.
"Are you OK?" her mother asked, taking a seat next to her.
"I'm fine, Mom," she answered, looking away, toward the trees. "How did you find me?"
"Your father hired a private detective," said Angela's mother. "We had no idea where you went. We had to find you."
"Maybe I didn't want to be found, Mom," said Angela, still avoiding her mother's eyes.
"Angela," said her mother, lifting her daughter's face toward her own. "We don't care that you're different. We *love* you, no matter what."
Angela let out a tear.
"I'm flying back home tonight," her mother said. "Please let me take you with me."
"I don't know." Angela looked back at the trees.
"Look," her mom started. "Come back home with me now and if you're still not comfortable after a week, you can run away again."
Angela laughed. "I guess that's fair," she said. The two stood up and left for home.
---
Want to read more stories? Check out all the others ones here and then go to /r/MajorParadox :)
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"Honestly I don't see what the big deal is," Marie said as she drummed her fingers along the side of the table. It had taken forever to put it together, and it was so covered in coasters that the wood on the top was hidden. It was her table though, and very important to her. "Worst comes to worst you and I can just go for a walk, it's always an option."
"Yes but I'm bored now," Roger responded from his position on the couch. He had a pillow sitting on his nose and was trying to balance it. It was his activity for around the noon hours, it let him be beside Marie as she drummed.
"You're always bored."
"Becuase there is nothing to do," he said as the pillow fell to his right. Roger patted around for it before finding it again and putting it back on his nose, "it's the same around this time every day."
"Well then why don't you play with the coasters?"
"I will never get them back into place," he said as the pillow fell again. The cushion dropped off the side of the couch and Roger sighed as he heard the noise. He started to pat around to his left, but his hand was just short of reaching the floor. He would need to roll off to get it and he wasn't up for the challenge.
"That's fair enough."
"Tomorrow then for the walk?" he asked.
"I haven't memorized the street, it's a dangerous walk for me."
"Bring a stick."
"I always bring the stick," Marie hissed. Roger dropped off the side of the couch to fetch his pillow.
| 2016-02-18T10:16:31 | 2016-02-18T08:19:49 | 166 | 91 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.
|
It's weird. As we have evolved as humans, our capacity for empathy continued to increase, until eventually we could feel each other's emotional responses as they were happening. Despite the years of mandatory training, there is still the occasional story of a man or woman dying shortly after feeling the death of their spouse, or the reverberating anguish of hundreds of thousands when a natural disaster hits. With this empathy came a kind of forced world peace, as the horrors of war echoed in hears and souls worldwide. Crime too, plummeted as it was impossible to hide from the emotional turmoil of victims and their families.
And, in an interesting twist, our increased capacity for empathy has also resulted in the near-eradication of pornography. Adult film stars retired by the dozens. It must be difficult and personally embarrassing to feel hundreds of other people climaxing with you on their minds, and further, for that to happen several times a day.
I wouldn't know what it's like. Not personally anyway. No one thinks of me in their most intimate moments. I know that I have the same empathy as anyone else. The tests proved it; I can feel the happiness or sadness or hate of everyone around me. But I've never felt the distinct, tickling sensation of someone reaching climax, and thinking of me.
I'm so fucking lonely.
|
I got a call from a friend who invited me over to her house to talk about something. I've accepted to come, but I have been feeling very awkward about it. I mean, she does look a little good, but I'm not sure if I do like her - talking about it is too awkward and embarrassing, and...nevermind about that.
I arrive, say hello, and we're sitting together, while I'm trying to maintain my composure. She starts off the conversation, saying "Hey...I have been feeling weird lately."
Feeling curious, I respond. "Yeah? Well, do you want to explain it?"
After a few seconds where she was looking away from me, looking shy and reluctant to say anything, she tells me "Well, I have been feeling like some...something's been inside of me, but it shouldn't..."
Even though I could see that she has more to say but is too reluctant to say anything more, I can already imagine what she was going to say. I could guess that she starts making sounds when that 'thing' feels like it's inside of her, and that it makes her all tingly or however the hell it works.
If that is the case...shit. I think I know what is happening.
I later confirmed it when I felt like I was going into someone even if I was only doing something mundane, and I could feel something very familiar after the sensation of being inside someone was over.
| 2016-03-12T07:49:14 | 2016-03-12T07:22:16 | 83 | 14 |
[WP]If you murder someone, your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been.
|
"I plead guilty, Your Honor," I told the courtroom, earning gasps and whispers. "I killed her. Six milligrams of Aconitum directly into her left arm."
"Well, I suppose I should thank your honesty. That saves us some time-"
"What kind of sick bastard murders his own sister?" a voice cut in from the crowd. Several others booed and jeered alongside him.
"It was peaceful, and quiet. She didn't hurt at all," I responded meekly, staring at the floor.
"She was twelve! Come on, judge, sentence him already. Gotta be at least seventy years, right? Lock this psychopath away for good."
I tried to maintain control, but images of that little girl dying before my eyes were burned into my mind. I could feel the warmth on my cheeks, taste the saltiness in my mouth, and knew I was a mess.
"Order! Well, as per law, I hereby sentence you to prison for the amount of time left in the victim's life. Let's see, here..." The judge flipped through several documents, muttering to himself, the paused and took his glasses off.
I was shaking, bawling like a lost child, thinking of my sister and how I'd erased her beautiful smile from the world forever.
With a deep sigh, the judge continued his sentencing. "Three months."
--------
*thanks for reading! if you'd like to see more of my work, check out /r/resonatingfury*
|
I sit in the dock awaiting my sentence. I know I should be afraid, or at least nervous but to be honest I am looking forward to going back to prison. Life was tough on the outside. Work was impossible to find for an ex con with a lingering heroine habit picked up on the inside, so I had found myself on the streets. When my welfare had been cut off for my continued drug use I had gotten desperate.
Coming down from a drug stupor the idea had seemed so straight forward, kill some-one young enough and go back to jail for the rest of my life. No more need to eat from dumpsters or do horrible things to get my next hit. The government would provide me with regular meals and drugs were much easier to obtain inside, all I needed was an appropriate victim. When that young girl, fresh out of high school and probably in the big city for the first time, took a wrong turn down the alley he was currently lying it, he acted without a second thought. Sure he felt bad for the girl, she didn't deserve to die, but life is cruel and have to do what you have to do. So here he was, 3 months later after pleading guilty to the murder as quickly as possible, waiting to hear his sentence.
The judge adjusted his glasses and looked at the paper in front of him. He looked confused for a second before clearing his throat and continuing "The defendant has admited guilt in this case and is to be sentenced for the Murder of Isobelle Frew. The length of sentence has been determined as 2 months, with time already served you are free to go."
| 2016-05-29T08:24:25 | 2016-05-29T07:49:15 | 802 | 83 |
[WP] It's hard to describe the concept of sight to a blind person. An alien with many sensory organs tries to describe one of their extra senses to you.
|
"So you can *sense* time?"
"I believe that is a simple and accurate explanation. Yes."
The assembly of scientists didn't quite know how to react to this. Some slowly nodded their heads as if they understood. One of the younger members of the group couldn't quite swallow this information.
"I have been alive for 26 years, we have been sitting here for about 3 hours, I know how long a second is... Is that not sensing time?" The earnest young scholar looked up at the strange brown being. He knew he hadn't quite grasped the concept like his colleagues had appeared to.
"I have never visited your poles. Yet I can tell you what they look like. Is that using the sense of light?" The alien answered the scientist.
"Steve, please, we mustn't get bogged down with the details." An older man from the group reprimanded the young astro-physicist while shuffling his papers infront of him. "We have alot to learn from ... uh, our guest."
"You can name me Klaun. And this sense is one of our most useful. Understanding it will help understand why we are." The alien's voice had a calm and understanding feeling about it.
"Can you show us this 'time sensing organ' of yours?" A woman in the front asked cautiously, unsure if her question was appropriate.
"Most of our primal sensory organs have been vestigial for millennia. Our Duralum 'organ' you speak of encompasses our brains, intercepting incoming synapses. Similar to how your touch sensing organ surrounds your body."
"But what does it *do*?" Steve asked, clearly uncomfortable with how little he understood.
"I'm afraid you humans are not equipped to grasp its significance. I will try my best, but it appears you have a tenuous grasp of what time actually is. Building on your already weak foundations will lead to even more confusion. Time is not the linear measurement you believe it to be, but a solid dimension of matter that to me is as obvious as height, length and depth. So, I can sense exactly how much time space everything takes up."
A long silence filled the room as everyone tried to digest what Klaun just said.
"So you can see into the future?" Steve broke the silence, it appeared he was the first to figure out the implication of this new information.
Klaun appeared to find this explanation amusing. "I don't see it, young man, I know it, all of it. Past and future are human concepts that don't make alot of sense to me. I believe these terms represent different directions for viewing time in a 3 dimensional capacity. But yes, I know all of your time. Forgive me, I find it difficult to explain this. It's confusing to think of a reality without a time sense. How do you do anything without knowing what will happen? That is fascinating to me!"
|
<Stop> the tinny voice of the alien’s translator crackled. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing that I *could* stop. I tried to stop staring at the point on the far side of the conference room. It didn’t seem to calm the alien at all. I desperately hoped that the ambassador would return soon. He’d know what to do – or more precisely what I was supposed to *not* do.
&nbsp;
<Please stop, I beg you> the alien’s omnitranslator device crackled. I could almost sense the exasperation under the flat, mechanical tone.
&nbsp;
“I’m sorry…I, uh, I have no idea what I’m doing.” I wanted to tell him I was just an intern with the xenodiplomatic corp. What if he hadn’t realised? I prayed that he wasn’t judging all of humanity on whatever cryptic faux pas I was committing just by existing.
&nbsp;
<Halt your burbling!> the mechanical voice ordered. The creature was waving various appendages at me. I assumed they weren’t appendages of friendship. Maybe I should just go get the ambassador before this accidently escalated into an intergalactic war or something.
&nbsp;
“I don’t know what…uh…buzling? Whatever you said, I don’t know what that is. I’m just going to go get my boss now,” I said as I rose slowly from the chair, doing my best not to startle the agitated thing on the other side of the room. I silently cursed myself for skipping the chapter on xenocommunications in the corp’s handbook. Maybe the deep scarlet suffusing its top five sets of mandibles was a sign of forgiveness? I decided not to stick around to find out.
&nbsp;
<You are still burbling! Halt! My Szinacter glands cannot take much more of this.>
&nbsp;
I slowly edged towards the door, trying desperately to remember what stimuli Szinacter glands reacted to so I could stop doing that. I was coming up with nothing.
&nbsp;
<Arggh, now you’re burbling even rollier than before!> the alien cried with disgust apparent even through its translator. I wondered how anyone ever got anywhere diplomatically given this creature’s ability to explain itself.
&nbsp;
“Uh, I’ll…I’ll be right back,” I told the writhing mass of unearthly biomass. I really hoped the ambassador would know what burbling was so I could stop doing it long enough to sit in on the negotiations.
---------------------------
&nbsp;
[As always, if you enjoyed this check out my sub!](https://www.reddit.com/r/herd_of_birds)
| 2016-06-11T22:15:31 | 2016-06-11T19:50:21 | 71 | 19 |
[WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure.
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr
|
It had been months since I'd last seen another human being. Things were getting colder now, the lack of movement and body heat on the earth, coupled with the sudden abundance of plants would do that, I suppose. It was strange, despite the world as we know it having ended, some parts of the internet still functioned. I still played Pokemon Go from time to time as I travelled into the ruins of the larger cities. The Pokestops were often restaurants, so they would help me find some food to eat. As I set up camp for a night, I plugged my mobile phone into its solar battery pack and opened up the application.
Something was off, one of the pokestops was different, outlined by a pink border and spouting flower petals. There was a *lure.* I grabbed my bags and ran towards the stop, knowing I only had a short while before the lure would disappear. It took me a good twenty minutes to come within range of the stop.
I tapped on the icon to see who could possibly have placed this lure, elated at the prospect of seeing another person for the first time in ages.
The name loaded
it read:
User24315
*Fuck,* a bot.
|
I head out at sun rise every morning, today was no different. My bag packed with the usual 6 spare batteries, water, sandwiches and trail nuts. The game was become tiring I'd completed my collection months ago and with no one to contest my gyms Valor was everywhere. all I seemed to do was swap out lower CP pokés for there newer arrivals. But with no one around to talk to my Pokémon are the closest thing I have to a friend. Which is what makes transferring them even harder. I set my eyes on a nice road full of pokestops and press on. My only use for pokéstops was the new balls. I'd maxed out my xp a long time ago. I make it half way down the road and my heart sinks, there's a lure! It can't be true. There hasn't been another human on earth for nearly 3 years. I begin to run not even flipping the stops on the way. As I get closer I see a gym in the back ground it's blue, it's Mystic. I look at my pokémon my Golduck was passed out. I revive him and swear revenge. I get to the park where the lure is and sure enough there's a kid sat on the bench with a Pikachu on his shoulders. "Hey I'm Ash nice to meet you"
| 2016-09-05T09:05:26 | 2016-09-05T06:15:42 | 141 | 58 |
[WP] Your father is an eccentric billionaire who has dedicated his entire fortune to the ultimate prank - convincing you that you are a wizard. All of your friends and family are in on it, but there's just one problem: You actually do have magic powers.
|
Fingers clinking with golden rings, a lion head on the middle one. The cigar in my mouth hot smoking vanilla tobacco like an endless chimney, cuban mixed, worth more than half the ornaments in Daddy's mansion. I kicked his office door shut, it sealed with a shake that vibrated the stone walls. "You're late," he said.
I blew a smoke circle out and slumped into the chair opposite, blue robes folding so the stars looked like half triangles. "That's wizard time for you, father."
He ran nimble fingers down the spine of his information folder. I pursed my lips and snorted vanilla through my nostrils --dragon style. Father snapped up the files and breezed through to about the middle. "Seventeen incidents, David. We've already discussed this magic *thing*. You agreed to stop."
I feigned indifference with a shrug. Father, like so many billionaires, thought his net worth liquidated into intelligence. It gave him this condescending air, in the way he dragged his thumb along the back of his auburn tie, the crisp state of his clothes, and the way he held his nose just a little higher than others. The man would convince a leprachaun his bowel movements contained gold. I knew he was out to get me, to draw me into the most elaborate prank the world had ever seen.
I played along. 'To think nurse Jess had her uniform slashed in half by a possessed needle, she's quite the looker, if only you'd been there to witness it. Then again, I probably won't be getting a present this year."
Father's glare resembled that of a bald eagle before it murders prey. "So you admit it then?"
I could admit to having a narcissistic billionaire father that wished to torment his son for his own entertainment. Who knew the worst kind of man could be the one that brought you into this world. The Christians must feel the same about their Father at times, it's why I stuck to my own made up deity, Merlin as they called him in old times. Of course, a man with a beard that changed men into pigs is about as real as my father's moral compass. "Get on with it father, I don't have time to waste with mortal conversation."
"You're confined to your room for one week. Don't let me catch you using magic again if I do, you're out."
The new rules of the game, right. And school?
"Headmaster Jed will have my head if I don't show up. . ."
"I don't care about your headmaster, you will learn some respect, boy. If he has a problem he can take it up with me."
I stubbed the cigar on father's desk. His arm twitched, half a heart beat away from throwing something at me. I took that as my leave; striding to the door, robes billowing behind.
"David."
I paused in the doorway.
"I'm not joking; I really expect you to stop with this magic thing."
Still with the pretense game. Like I hadn't found the special effects holographs, the 3D motion installments, the speakers buried in bushes throughout the grounds. He expected me to break, to admit that I knew he was fooling me, and that he'd pulled off a prank like no other --to pretend his son was a wizard. Funny how it had all started with a bit of vinegar on his toothbrush, a prank war gone too far. "I wouldn't dream of using magic in your home, father."
"Actions speak louder than words. . ." he muttered as I shut the door behind me.
The trip back down the hallway was a quick one and once I was inside my room I slumped to the floor letting the silence drain away all remnants of tension. The cigar was still tight in my hand, still as unused as ever despite looking lit for close to thirty minutes. If only father knew that the smoke was more powerful than any magic he could ever dream up.
In the end, he believed he was winning and I got what I wanted. It had been near thirty weeks since I last went to school.
|
The funeral started a procession and ended a pageantry. A shame Father missed it, for no doubt it would have amused him greatly. Sadly, though present, he was not alive to witness it. The scenes were lifted straight from a sitcom script: Beckett and Alistair pulling me away from the coffin, Mother shaking her head off to the side, and those few onlookers not in on the joke craning their necks and keening their ears to hear the full story of the crazed child as it whispered its way through the crowd.
"It's not necromancy," I had said, mistaking the source of their protests.
"That's cause it's nothing, nothing at all. None of it's real, goddamnit." Alistair's voice cracked with hysteria, one part grief, the other part shame. He pulled my arm down and wrenched it behind my back. Beckett grabbed the other and dragged me downwards. The two of us fell into the dirt, and Beckett wrapped his arms around me like a straightjacket. He was struggling to stifle his laughter.
"It's okay, bro," he said. "Just calm down." As if I was the one making the ruckus. I allowed him and Alistair to restrain me, their little invented head case. Their ministering would have been better devoted to the more overwrought of the mourners. Our display had done nothing to cheer them up; if anything, it had sent them into even greater fits of hysteria. Their sobs broke through their handkerchiefs, and they teetered as if clutched by stray orbits.
After the procession, Mother headed straight for a date with the bottle, and Alistair was refusing to talk to me, so it was all on Beckett to explain my father and the big joke of my life.
"But the rats—"
"The rats were bioengineered with artificial hearts," he said. "Death and life could be simulated at the press of a button."
"Teddy's hamster. I resurrected it for him without telling Father or any of you guys..." It was beginning to dawn on me the true reason why Father had so adamantly sworn me to secrecy.
"Same thing. Teddy was in on the joke. Everyone you knew was." Beckett laughed and patted me on the back. "Remember when you asked Jenny out? She knew."
My face burned. In the middle of the school parking lot, I'd pulled a bouquet of flowers out of my arse and presented them to her. "Trade secret," I'd said as she fawned over them. Until now, I had thought I'd materialized them out of thin air. But...
"Yeah, there's an implant for summoning flowers somewhere up there." Beckett stooped over and began to snap. "Flowers, to me."
"Just let me go," I said, turning on my heel and walking back into the cemetery. He called out to me only once.
The mourners I encountered looked away before they could make eye contact. I could feel their glances pierce my back as I passed them. Poor kid, they thought, he's a bit fucked up in the head, ain't he? How lucky they were to be so sure of their own realities.
They were right, though. My head was fucked; it was thumbprint-smudged clay set, hardened, and glazed into something unrecognizable, something wrong. There was no starting over without breaking a few things.
I stood in front of my father's plot and let the wind whip my cheeks and the stares judge and pity me until everyone had left. Now, it was just me and him and an entire lifetime's investment of wasted emotion. My father's most cruel trick was not leading me to believe I had magical powers, but leading me to believe that he saw me as anything more than an object for his amusement.
"Fuck you," I said, and I spat in front of his headstone. If I could, I would bring him back just to tell him how much I hated him.
The ground shook then, and from beneath the plot came the sound of faint thumping and muffled cries. "Help me, Casey. I'm not actually dead."
"Good one, Father." I turned away and began to make my leave. "Good one."
| 2016-12-05T12:08:33 | 2016-12-05T11:41:50 | 194 | 121 |
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