prompt
stringlengths 20
5.8k
| chosen_story
stringlengths 226
10k
| rejected_story
stringlengths 227
9.43k
| chosen_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 14:34:19
| rejected_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
| chosen_upvotes
int64 14
23.1k
| rejected_upvotes
int64 10
4.26k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] The gods send their angels and demons down to Earth to fight the alien ghost zombies and robotic vampires being controlled by an AI overlord.
|
The director looked down at the script then up at the author. "I can't believe I agreed to direct this thing without reading it first. I barely know where to begin. I guess I can handle multiple gods and their angels and demons. I can do a robotic vampire controlled by AI. But 'alien ghost zombies' doesn't even make sense. Why are the zombies also ghosts and aliens?"
The author smiled. "This is the genius part. The hero, John, finds a magic lamp and uses his second wish to create a time machine so he can kill Adolf Hitler, who is also his grandfather. The aliens visiting earth think this is a great idea and tell John he can become immortal if he succeeds, also gaining the ability to see stats above people's heads. But when he kills Hitler, he unleashes a grandfather paradox curse that turns him into a zombie, but he's immortal, meaning he's also a ghost. It unleashes a plague of alien ghost zombies led by himself that he must fight in an alternate future."
The director shook his head trying to understand. "On page 24, you refer to Jane instead of John. What happened?"
"Well, you see, sometimes John flips genders and becomes Jane. It's part of how the Seven Deadly Sins persecute him." The author added, "It also lets me include a delightful romantic comedy twist as he/she falls in love with Pat, the genderless Werewolf Mummy."
"Yes, I'll get to the Werewolf Mummy question in a moment." The director paused, then flipped to near the end of the script. "On page 94 you have a unit of US Marines fighting against the combined armies of Voldermort and Magneto. I'm not quite whether they're on the sides of the gods or the AI overlord, but either way, I'm rather certain I can't afford the licenses for either of those characters. Could we perhaps come up with a more generic cast of villains?"
The author looked quite disappointed. "I guess we could just have Satan and Death combined. Or maybe a blind serial killer who is also a 12 year old whose dreams in another dimension become reality in ours. I'm not sure. I need to go back to my favorite subreddit and see what ideas they can help me come up with. I'll get back to you in a week. Anything else?"
|
Once upon a time, in a land far away there was an army of alien ghost zombies and robot vampires. Now usually alien ghost zombies and robot vampires just like to sip tea and pass the day pleasantly, carousing and strolling on the sun dappled promenade, but unfortunately it seemed their innocent lives of quiet leisure were destined to be brutally interrupted.
You see the problem was that some users in /r/writingprompts had unthinkingly insulted the Gods. I know, 'who would be so foolish?' I hear you asking, but yet, someone had done it and the Gods had read the thread.
There was a great congress in Asgard which was absolutely compulsory for all top level Gods to attend, even some second tier Gods and minor deities were advised that their presence was required. It was very serious and no-one was laughing or joking around outside the great hall before the doors were opened. They had gathered to decide what to do to get the mortals interested again.
There were lots of jolly good suggestions from all the gods but Zeus dismissed them. Everyone really tried hard to think of something better than all the rest but it was no good, whatever they came up with wasn't interesting or edgy enough for Zeus and after two weeks of brainstorming no-one had come up with anything.
"it's no good" said Zeus sadly, "the humans don't like us any more" and a big, fat tear rolled down his cheek, fell to earth and caused extensive flooding in northern waziristan.
Lights came to life on the monitor of small, super secret section of Momsbasement Division 3 and General Fedora, whipped around in his office chair. "Get me /u/acidentalmispelling they'll know how to handle this!"
Edit: damnit I forgot the AI overlord. This is exactly what always happens when you're trying to create great literature and the baby is testing the presets on the electronic keyboard next to you and your son is winding up your wife up into killer-mum setting. Now they're calling me to come see something 'cute'. I don't see how I can be expected to work like this.
| 2014-09-06T03:08:47 | 2014-09-06T01:01:44 | 274 | 40 |
[WP] You are an assassin. You don't use explosives, guns, or poison. You are a master of the butterfly effect.
|
It’s a curse, you know.
Being able to see patterns like I do is absolute hell on earth. Tennis ball. Thimble. Tree branch. Thermostat. Tie pin. Figures it’s a Thursday. It’s always ‘t’s on Thursday. I glance at my watch. *13:00*. That’s a good time.
The little girl passes my park bench on her bike. She looks like a Tina. I hear the whack of rackets playing an uneven rhythm to my left. In two minutes, the man is about to put too much effort into his backswing to compensate for the tendonitis that has been bothering him for about… three months. The ball will fly wide right outside the court and hit Tina’s front tire as she makes her next round on the bike path. She just went from tricycle to two wheels and the surprise will be enough to make her crash. Skinned knee. She’ll cry.
In one season of my life, I tried to stop the bad things from happening. I tried to be the gallant white knight. No one understood. Even when I explained, they didn’t understand. They were scared. They were mean. And the bad things still kept happening. So I don’t help anymore. I still have to watch them happen, but I know I can’t truly help. But damn, can I hurt.
I look ahead. Broad meets with 17th at the northeast corner of the park, and with 18th at the southeast corner. Old Man Ellis is making his daily walk along Broad, looking for food that isn’t too rotten and knick-nacks to put in his cart. He has a fondness for shiny metal, and I left a thimble on the grate. He’ll find it soon and dart toward it eagerly.
I look right. An old maple swings in the breeze. I’ve been here every day for two weeks watching it swing. Fifteen feet above the ground, one branch has been dead for a month. It’s resilient, though, like human life. It holds on long after it is dead, long after it escapes the fate it deserves. Today is the day, though. In thirty-two seconds it will break, because the wind will gust at 31 m.p.h. Fortuitous for me, but I don’t rely on fortune.
I look further right. Melvin Bartleby is making his one o’clock delivery run, as usual. He’s sweating a lot. Melvin sweats unnaturally much. I ensured that this would be the case today when I set his thermostat this morning. He was like a convict getting the third degree before he left the house. Not that I know what that feels like. Melvin's **hands will leave the steering wheel to** wipe sweat from his eyes every 4.6 seconds, on average.
I look left again, and there he is. Rupert Everett III. Investment Banker. Fraud. Asshole. He could probably buy the city block he walks every day between his million dollar townhome and penthouse corner office. Of course, it’s all embezzled money, and the partners are none too pleased. It makes a decent paycheck for me, but I get the consolation that everyone he ripped off that can’t pay me can smile, too. He probably used that dirty money to buy that bright new tie pin.
I glane at my watch. *13:01*. Showtime. I look up and realize Everett is too far ahead. Frowning, I start walking toward him. The pattern is off. He’s ten feet in front of where he should be. I rack my brain as I approach.
Aha. He doesn’t have his morning paper. He always takes four seconds to grab the paper from the stand at Broad and 17th, but today he woke up early and read the news online. I smirked, guessing that the guilt was giving him a fitful night of sleep. That or he knew his partners were on to him.
No matter. I planned for this too. We approach. I smile. He frowns.
“Your tie-pin is off by an inch,” I tell him, and walk on.
He’ll take the four seconds he should have spent at the news stand to realize that it is not crooked, angrily yell at me, and continue on, now in his proper place.
Old Man Ellis finds the thimble and darts out to grab it. *13:01:17*
31 m.p.h. is unusual for this time of year. The branch breaks and flies into Everett’s face, causing him to raise his hands and turn away from the road as he begins to cross it. *13:01:18*
Melvin begins to wipe sweat from his eyes, but sees Old Man Ellis leap into his field of view. Melvin swerves hard to the left. *13:01:19*
I hear the sickening crunch behind me, and the thud when the body lands. To my right, a woman screams. To my left, a man curses and starts running to the road. *13:01:20*
I text my client as I walk. *Check the news.*
I reach out and grab a tennis ball as it flies by. Tina rides past and flashes a smile.
Ok, fine, so maybe I haven’t given up also trying to save the world a little.
It’s still a curse, though.
EDIT: words in **bold**
|
Mortimer R. van Haarenburg, Mort for short, was hugely talented and he was a killer. A very good one. An assassin to be exact. There are only two kinds of assassins, he always said. The old ones and the dead ones. When you just started killing you couldn't call yourself an assassin. You were a troublemaker, an urchin. 'Headless' the older ones called them rather knowingly. About one in a hundred survived the first year of training. About one in a thousand finished. And when you do, killing you would be nearly impossible to achieve. Mort finished the training. Most people do so by becoming very good with one particular kind of weapon and being really well prepared. Morts Weapon was everything. Literally. From butterflies to baked beans from Wine to the neighbours cat Whiskers, which is a feat in itself, when you look at that thing.
Morts Weapon was Chaos. The Butterfly Effect, He could fry an egg from half a mile away by blowing on a pond. He didn't know how he got this ability, he was just good at patience and he saw patterns. After all you could just lean back, do a bit of gardening and people died all by themselves. They weren't on a death list for catching up on their reading. Which is exactly what he wanted to do after he killed a leader of some revolutionary cell, who planned a bit of Rumpus next Thursday.
The world could need a bit of Rumpus, he thought. To much Quarrels and Hassles. A Rumpus, now that was something different. But a jobs a job, he thought. A jobs a job. He went up the rooftop and looked at the city carrying his favourite cup filled up with coffee. The sun was just setting and people were running about looking where to put their frustration. It would be a shame, he thought, when this revolutionary leader would die in a Rumpus himself, just before he could plan his own.
Mort leaned himself just on the edge, where you could see the street fussing as clearly as that is possible from a rooftop. And then he waited. And he waited. And some time later, with a flick of his wrist, he sent his coffee on a journey downwards. Mortimer went down to his flat, put his TV on, opened a pack of organic banana chips and started to watch the news channel.
Meanwhile, the coffee fell, and perchance, hit, in a shrapnel of mildly hot drops, Franklin White, who was not in any way important, except that he had an anger problem. Franklin White had just wanted to tweet a Picture of the cute Cat, Mr. Whiskers, he saw a minute ago, but was promptly interrupted by the brown rain. He had worn his new expensive shirt that day, which was now ruined, so he took his phone and threw it on the ground before yelling at people. He would then decide he needed therapy. The phone didn't exactly hit the ground, it went into a gully beginning a journey through the Sewers that ended at Parker Street, where a woman, working for the local water company taking water samples, found it. She took it home.
Turns out it isn't the best idea to come home with a strangers phone. Because her husband, who was called Melon, which Mort had found funny. Mistook it for the phone of his wife and found on it pictures of Franklin Whites remarkably red Penis. Jumping to wrong conclusions he set out for a night drive because that's the thing that Melon does when he is angry. He stopped at the city gardens to beat up a bush. Because, again, thats the thing he does. Some Names come with responsibilities, even when they're just being weird when you're angry. Again by chance, right under this bush there slept a rare beetle, lost by a beetle collector some months ago, which was not only very toxic but also very responsive to the colour purple. Melon didn't wear purple, but he left his wife two weeks later. She was really cheating on him, which, of course, he never found out.
But the beetle needed something to sting, so he flew up to a two story building, through a window, to unleash himself onto a high profile drug dealer, whom the locals called Fizz, and who had a fondness for purples LEDs. His two customers watched open mouthed, as he screamed in anguish and passed. There was shock and trying to phone people. One of the shooters sent a message on his phone. "Will not be meeting you at the hotel tonight". Two stories up his screams were heard by a certain revolutionary leader. Wanting to help he knocked on fizz door. His paranoid customers, mistaking the knock for a policeman being after them, shot at the door killing him. And he just wanted to help.
It was six in the morning when the news anchor reported that some local druggies went on a shooting spree to accidentally kill the only hope for a free world. Mort pulled out his form. He wrote: Target assimilated. Weapons used: A "world's best dad" coffee mug, 0,2l of mildly warm coffee. Collateral: I don't know probably some cocaine and maybe a beetle. He put the form down on his coffee table, killed the TV and put a fully organic banana chip into his mouth. He could read now. What a nice, quiet job he thought munching.
| 2017-03-19T22:06:20 | 2017-03-19T16:36:36 | 154 | 89 |
[WP]The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don't stay dead easily.
|
…
They came in waves. At night, swift, they rolled into the towns and cities first, ready to strike these alien lifeforms down in one fell swoop.
What could go wrong?
These strangers were so soft, so fragile, no danger to the superior strength and build of the Rh'a. They wouldn't know what hit them, and soon, the planet would be theirs.
Finally a place to call home again.
They rushed in, with bombs and gas, and man-to-man combat, slaying these beings left and right. It was fast, the results instant, and the darkness wasn't even over before the commander declared the conquest successful. A glorious win.
The planet was theirs, the future about to begin…
… except…
The slain rose again. First one - and granted, maybe he hadn't actually been completely dead, maybe it was a last effort to survive that made him scramble to his feet and lunge for the Rh'a. Another dose of gas would take care of him, and then the celebrations could begin.
But it wasn't just one. Another presumed dead rose, then another, another, so many more. The Rh'a exchanged glances, confused, their hive mind trying to make sense of it all and failing.
They brought more gas, more bombs. They slashed open the fragile bodies, entrails spilling free, heads coming off, and still the mouths were trying to bite, the eyes listless and blind staring into nothing, hands reaching for something, and the Rh'a began backing away.
There were so many of them. All dead - or, they should have been. Nothing had prepared them for this. They had studied these aliens, had watched them for weeks before deciding to make their move.
A civilization that seemed normal if not as advanced as others they had encountered. Millions of soft creatures living their boring harmless lives, the one oddity maybe being their rather fierce burial rituals. These aliens would impale sharp glistening objects of some form directly in the heads of their dead before burning them. It had seemed so… barbaric, unnecessary. And yet, as the Rh'a suddenly found themselves getting run over by these fearless, undeterred creatures, they began to see that maybe the burial rituals hadn't been so unreasonable after all.
In fact, maybe stabbing these *things* in the head was the only way to make them stay down.
Unfortunately for them, the realization came a little too late and thus the glorious win of the Rh'a was turned into a sad loss after all, as not one but two species were almost completely obliterated that night.
And only death won.
|
Garn saluted smartly, clawed fist slamming into his thickly armored chest.
“Sir, the Terrans have landed under fire, several ships have been downed, but a dozen made it to their LZ.”
Garn paused to gauge his commanders posturing. An angry response was expected so Garn would need to be ready to defend himself. He was relieved that Commander Grath only hissed. Irritated but not angry was the best result he could hope for. Grath’s mane bristled, fierce yellow eyes nearly glowing.
“How many of the soft ones? What weaponry?”
Garn grinned, sharp teeth flashing.
“Several thousand, about two prides of fighter craft, some artillery and perhaps a herd of armored vehicles. Much lighter than we expected. Estimated combat strength of one Savannah’s worth of force.”
Graths eyes narrowed, he sniffed the air with a loud huffing sound. Garn thought he might start pacing the command bunker.
“Are you sure? That cannot be all.”
He paused and continued.
“Those reports can’t be true? Surely outpost 767 was attacked by more?”
Garn shifted to a defensive stance, he once again expected to be pounced on.
“Sir, I cannot say. The dead coming to life? After our claws rend them surely they cannot hunt again?”
He tried to sound sure of himself, he wasn’t sure he was.
Grath’s eyes narrowed, a massive hand reached out, claws retracted. Garn visibly relaxed. Paw on Garns shoulder he stepped closer and spoke in a low rumbling voice.
“Ready the prides, all of them. We launch every avian. I want complete overkill. None of them live, not one. We will avenge our lost kin and mates. Rend the soft ones from gut to throat.”
He patted Garns shoulder and stepped away. Garn nodded once, saluted and marched smartly out of the bunker.
He swallowed nervously and licked his thick lips as he took his commanders orders to the runners. His paws were dry and his tail twitched. He knew what had happened at 767, he’d seen the reports no one believed. But he believed. His people had a saying that the dead don’t hunt. He wondered if the humans had the same saying. Evidence indicated they did not.
| 2019-08-28T11:09:58 | 2019-08-28T11:00:06 | 353 | 168 |
[WP] The apocalypse scenario of your choice has happened and you are the last person alive. Electricity and the internet are still running. As a last ditch effort you take to /r/askreddit, "Is there anybody else out there?" Weeks later, you receive a single upvote, but no reply...
I once read an article that said there is so much automation when it comes to our utilities that we would still have power and running water for months, even if every human just suddenly disappeared.
Also, the idea here is that the internet works, but hasn't been updated at all.
|
Joseph sat down, checking the depths of the internet for any signs of human life. Surely somebody had to be out there, trying to communicate, trying to survive, but despite the enormous amount of data on the internet, it was barren of life. Nothing since 29th November, 2015, the last flash to hit.
He stood up from the computer, but something compelled him to check. The post he made on Reddit seemed to pull at his strings of intuition, and he succumb to them. As he typed the web address in, his heart sank. Nothing, no notifications. He scrolled over his post "IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE", and it hit him, like a million bricks landing on him at once. The pixelated '2 - 100% like this'.
"What the..." he exclaimed aloud. He had to investigate further.
He began to type in the comments 'Who liked this, why didn't you write something?!'. He waited for only the briefest of moments before hitting F5, and to his complete shock, there was more activity, this time a downvote. *Why can't he respond?* he wondered to himself.
'Are you not responding because you can't?' he keyed, before waiting a few seconds to hit refresh.
His shock turned to delight when he saw that the question he had asked had been upvoted. *Ok, upvote for yes, downvote for no* he thought, then typed, the other end of the conversation upvoted the comment.
He typed all the questions he wanted answered. He didn't pause until he was out of questions, then he hit refresh, but all of his questions went unanswered. No upvotes, no downvotes, nothing.
'What the fuck is going on here?' he shrieked. *Maybe he's just tied up*, Joseph thought to himself. He continued to hit refresh but no activity emerged on the screen. It wasn't until he went back to the Reddit home page that his shock turned to terror.
'We can see you :)' was the top post of the day, with over 5000 upvotes.
|
They're here. They're at my doors, my windows, they're everywhere, they're trying to get in, I have all the entrances boarded up, though they won't last long. Oh well, it's not like I have anything left. The only thing keeping me on this world is the human instinct to survive, I came close to just ending it but was always too weak to pull the trigger. I suppose I should tell you who I am. I'm an avid Redditor named Micheal, if I wasn't working or spending time with my wife and daughter, I was on Reddit. In fact I heard about the initial breakout of the infection on Reddit from a /r/worldnews post. After the infection started getting serious everything went to absolute shit, looting, government collapse and all that. Even after all of that though, I still browsed reddit even though nothing new came up any more. A couple bandits shot my family while we were looking for food in our mostly looted grocery store. Needles to say they paid for it. I spent the next few years on my own looking at old Reddit posts fairly certaint at this point that I was alone in this world. The infected started trekking across the world in hordes. I ran into one on a supply run, they followed me and here I am, huddled in the cornor of my bedroom with tears rolling down my face as i shakily type in /r/AskReddit "Please, is anyone else still alive?" I smashed the refresh button in my last few minutes. I heard the smashing of what sounded like my front door. I just kept on clicking, all i wanted was some hope that humanity might make it. I heard moaning and footsteps going up my stairs. Finally I saw it... The little orange 2 by my post. Someone else is out there. My door creaked open and I said "Screw it" and refreshed the page one last time. There was a single comment and it said, "I did nazi this post coming."
EDIT:#BadGrammar
| 2014-10-14T17:32:09 | 2014-10-14T17:30:49 | 78 | 22 |
[WP] The alien invaders were confident. Their personal shield tech had withstood all enemies and types of energy weapons. Then they landed on Earth and found the shield's fatal flaw: Solid Projectiles.
|
Nearly all species follow a similar trajectory in their evolution of warfare: first, you hit something. Then you find a more efficient way of hitting it. Eventually you realize the most efficient way to hit something is by removing the mass from that equation and using pure energy. This was what the Twii had planned for, and their shielding technology was unparalleled.
Unfortunately, humans had a different approach: first, you hit something you don't like. Then you hit it harder. Then you repeat until your enemy is a bloody paste.
The Twii did not know this when they appeared in the skies over Earth and demanded surrender, tribute, and servitude. Humanity was given one hour. Twenty-two minutes later they tendered a response: a six-ton tungsten rod, moving at seventy percent of the speed of light, placed through the flagship's bridge.
It turned out mass was part of the equation after all. More importantly, humans - after centuries of developing nuclear weapons - had developed substantial energy shielding technologies of their own. Human structures shed EMP, plasma, and laser assaults like water as projectiles tore the Twii fleet apart.
Less than a week later the Twii, for the first time in their species' history, offered surrender. The human delegate, unaware of the magnitude of their victory, accepted it with a smirk and the first words spoken by mankind to another species:
"Guess rock beats laser, huh?"
|
It’s … ironic to say the least. Our tools have not advanced in the last 5 thousand years, not really anyway, and yet …. we survived.
All we have ever done was throw pointy stuff at things. It began with rocks, then spears, then arrows, cannons, guns, machine guns, rail guns…
Sure, we learned that it’s possible to use fission to disintegrate stuff, and EMPs to destroy electronics, but surprisingly, all it took was throwing a couple projectiles really fast.
They called it “Project Thor” and “Rods from God”.
When The Empire invaded we were caught off guard, they rained down onto us with energy weapons, they glassed our cities, they suffocated our children.
We exhausted a large portion of our nuclear arsenal and had achieved nothing. In the cities, those that survived had resorted to guerrilla fights trying to escape, and that’s when we found it, their Achilles heel was projectiles. Their shields could not withstand projectiles.
We found our arrow, and like Paris in Troy, we released it, and killed Achilles. All we had to do was release the tungsten rods from military satellites deployed during the Cold War…
Who would have thought that the era that nearly destroyed humanity would have had its own redemption arc.
| 2022-07-23T07:31:27 | 2022-07-23T06:46:21 | 600 | 127 |
[WP] The "grim and gritty" re-boot of a beloved children's television show goes horribly, horribly wrong. Or perhaps horribly right.
|
It's a cold, heavy night on the Street. The kind of night that makes a man feel like the world reached it's hand up inside his guts and started pulling him in every direction. The kind of night that makes you wonder if that filthy Grouch who gets himself piss drunk in the gutter might be onto something.
The wind is hollering and jumping, like a diabetic hopped up on too many cookies. I tune it out. I got two hours left on this shift before I can go home to Maria. I think about her silky Latin hair and the way her tits look all covered in my red fur after I take her from behind.
The call comes in just when I least need it to. "Mo! Get your ass to Shareview Place!" the commissioner shouts at me, "you just caught a body!"
The building is six blocks away and this bucket of rust goes two blocks a minute, so you can probably tell me how long it will take me to get there, can't you? Three minutes, that's right. It feels like I've spent fucking decades outside these same red bricks.
I get upstairs and the body is naked and already cold. Shit, it's one of the queers. The fun one with the hair and dark skin to boot. Guy Smiley is going to have a fucking field day when he gets this on the air. People on the Street will say everyone's the same and special, but ever since that rookie popped twelve hollow points in old Gordon, the race relations ain't been so copacetic.
I'm thinking domestic disturbance. Easy. The bald one caught his beau with another guy, or maybe eating in the bed again, and turned all furious, then split town.
I lean down and look close at the body. I almost puke when I see the shit smeared around his bare ass. No wait. This don't smell like shit and what are all these crumbs? Mother of fucking Jesus, it's a chocolate chip cookie. Shoved up the poor kid's asshole. This wasn't no lover's quarrel gone wrong.
I already know there's nothing I can do to get justice here. This is the Monster's work, a sadistic son of a bitch known to leave this particular calling card on his victims. He's untouchable. Say what you want about the Count, but he takes care of his goons, even if that means calling in some favors from every sleazy judge who owes him one, two, three in return, after so many nights of hookers and coke.
Do I handle this outside the system? Can I risk what he might do to Maria if they see me start playing vigilante?
"Tough break, kid," I say to the body, "you ain't the last this Street's gonna swallow up whole."
|
I found Wheeler in a cheap brothel just outside New York, draped all over a blonde hair blue eyed woman. With his hair buzzed to almost nothing and even more scars running down his arms and face I barely recognized him. Except for the ring, that even after all this time he hadn't gotten rid of.
When we made eye contact he seemed to recognize me immediately and nodded his head to a dark corner booth. He shoved his tongue down the throat of the woman he was with before standing and joining me. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked, immediately hostile.
"It's time." I said simply, running my eyes over one of my best friends. This close I could tell he reeked of alcohol. So many years had passed, for all of us.
He brought his palm flat down on the table with a loud slam. Whatever he was about to say was lost as he noted the gold ring on his finger with its simple fire red jewel. Wheeler stared as if he had forgotten it was there. "You can't ask me to do this again. Not after last time." He finally croaked.
My heart broke at the emotion in his voice. I knew it was unfair, that more than anyone he deserved to spend the rest of his life however he wanted but I didn't have a choice. We all needed to come together once again, it was the only way.
"You know I wouldn't be here if there was another choice. Just like I know you still have **it.**"
Fear etched itself in tight lines across his face but like he was compelled he reached into his jean pocket. When it came back out he deposited a ring almost exactly like the both of ours on the table. Except this one contained a jewel that was sky blue. Tears formed in Wheeler's eyes as he looked down at it and I stayed silent.
Minutes passed before he finally collected himself with several deeps breaths. Each one a bit less shaky than the last. Finally he looked back up at me.
"We still have to find the others. And a..." Wheeler trailed off at a loss for words eyes drawn back to the table and the ring resting on it.
I reached across and put my hand on his shoulder. Noting my own earth green ring in the dim light. "I know, old friend but don't think of it as a replacement. Her memory lives on still in each of us. After we gather the others we will find someone she would be proud of."
A ghost of a smile turned his lips up before disappearing. "I can't believe we're going to summon **him** once again."
I learned back in my seat, thankful he was on board. "Neither can I....but **he** is needed."
| 2015-12-09T15:09:04 | 2015-12-09T14:57:59 | 76 | 18 |
[WP] Create a "Choose Your Own Adventure" with an infinite loop. Bonus points for working as many choices into the outcome as possible.
|
And now everyone, gather around for the home version of everybody's favorite game show:
# INCREMENT THE NUMBER!
Now you, too, can follow the thrilling and chilling thrills and chills of the famous TV game show! Re-live the excitement as you reach unbelievably high numbers like 40 or even 50!
[What are you waiting for? Get started!](http://www.reddit.com/r/increment_the_number/comments/2yqo40/spoilers_increment_the_number/cpc2e9k)
|
1.You awake from sleep lying in a bed, you:
2.Get out of bed
-go to 4
3.Go back to sleep
-go to 1
4.After an exhausting day of doing _____, a nice rest seems ideal.
-go to 1
I would love to see someone add on to this to make possible choices for an entire daily routine; I don't have the time right now :(
| 2015-03-11T11:06:17 | 2015-03-11T08:45:13 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] You’re a ghost who can somehow still touch objects. However, you do not do anything with this. Until one day you accidentally catch a pencil someone throws at their friend, leading everyone to believe that friend has superpowers. Feeling awkward, you decide to hang around and keep up the act.
|
The first one was an accident; The ghost had been floating around an elementary school, with no real purpose in mind, and he crossed into the path of an airborne pencil. It stuck in his ectoplasm, seemingly suspended in mid air to those still living, and the ghost turned to see a small boy with his hand in the air -prepared to catch the incoming projectile.
Those around the boy gasped, and a larger boy on the other side of the room looked stunned and enraged.
"He stopped it with his brain!" A small girl said through her braces.
The ghost examined the children and decided to have some fun; as the boys hand slowly lowered, the ghost descended downward with the pencil -matching his pace.
The children were amazed, a few even clapped, and a broad smile crept over the small, curly haired boy as his hand, and the pencil, dropped completely.
The ghost found all this rather amusing, so throughout the day he followed the curly haired boy and continued the charade. The larger boy who'd thrown the pencil was not pleased by the spectacle, and out at recess he made another attempt. This time throwing a football far across the yard towards the curly haired boy who sat alone on a bench. The ball would have impacted him directly in the back of the head had it not been for the ghost, who stopped it just inches away.
"Whoa, did you see that?!" Another astonished pack of children.
"He did it again!" The kids around the larger boy ran across the yard, in complete astonishment as the curly haired boy snatched the football out of the air. Another faint smile coming over him.
The day proceeded, and the ghost intercepted: Erasers, candy, pennies, and even a shoe, the children were relentless, and the ghost was entertained. By the end of the day, the curly haired boy had a small entourage of adoring fans, all hoping to witness his next amazing feat. As the boy walked home, his posse depleted, until he was alone. There were no projectiles left to catch, but the ghost continued to follow -perhaps hoping to keep the gag running with the boy's family.
The curly haired boy entered his home, modest, but void of family members, except for a howling beagle overjoyed to see him. He went to his kitchen and snatched a note off the refrigerator '*Working late, honey, meatloaf in the fridge. Love, Mom.*'
The boy sighed and retreated to his room. The ghost followed automatically, and hovered around the boys bed. The beagle dove under the bed sheets, and the boy laid flat on his back staring at the ceiling, grinning now from ear to ear.
"Today was so awesome, bud. I don't know how, but everything Rich always throws at me just stopped right before it hit me! It was like I had super powers, and everyone thought it was so cool!"
The beagle groaned a bit under the covers, and the curly haired boy patted the bulk under the blanket lightly.
"I hope my powers don't go away... I hope tomorrow the stuff they throw at me still stops... Today was the best day ever, and I don't wana go back to before..."
The ghost hovered in the room for some time, and finally decided that he'd follow the boy back to school the next day -he now had a real purpose in mind.
r/BeagleTales
|
Lenny sat morosely in the desk at the rear\-right corner of the room. The desk was covered in carvings of anatomy and phone numbers. He rested his head in his hand and stared at Mr. Woodkind at the front of the class.
Lenny slapped a passing fly to the ground.
Mr. Woodkind did the same history lecture, six times a day. Lenny listened to the lecture, six times a day. It was incredibly tedious, almost as tedious as being dead. Lenny had no idea how Mr. Woodkind continued smiling all the way to the end of the day, but he suspected the coffee cup may contain more than it seemed. Lenny wished he had coffee that was more than it seemed.
Lenny slapped the confused fly to the ground again.
Lenny preferred this class because it had this desk, the students liked to joke that it was haunted. So, Lenny haunted it. The extend of his haunting was learning the history of World War I at a high school level extraordinarily well, and slapping flies out of the air. Lenny had been doing this for the past twenty years. During that time, the only thing that had changed was Mr. Woodkind’s smile growing from sincere, to pained, to manic, to slightly confused to borderline demented; every transformation of the smile was accompanied by a slight widening of the eyes. Mr. Woodkind could probably count the stars on the flag across the street at this point.
Lenny stared at the fly, daring it to try again.
A pencil flew past him. Lenny slapped a passing pencil to the ground. Oops.
“What the...” the student to the left of him muttered under his breath.
A pencil flew past him. Lenny slapped a passing pencil to the ground. Shit.
“Dude!” The student jumped out of his seat. The pupils turned to look at him in annoyance. Mr. Woodkind spilled some not\-coffee. “Are you a freaking superhero?!”
The red\-haired student in front of Lenny looked confused. The other student threw a pencil at him. Lenny watched it hit him in the face.
“Man, what the fu\-\-”
“Boys, boys, please sit do\-\-”
“BZZZZZZT” The bell rang signaling the end of the period.
Lenny thought about it for a second, then stood up and followed his ginger quarry. The mischievous student followed behind at a safe distance, muttering something to a pair of confederates.
They lobbed a tennis ball slowly at the boy. Lenny slapped it out of the air and it bounced back to the group. They kept walking. One of the companions snatched the ball and tossed it overhand at the boy. Lenny slapped it out of the air back toward the group.
“Hey, Mark!”
The red\-haired boy turned around just as they tossed the tennis ball again, this time with vigor. It careened off his nose and flew down the hall at a wild trajectory.
“Ow! What the hell!” The red haired boy had a tear coming out of one slightly reddened eye as he slapped a hand to his face. The group of compadres was bent over double laughing and pointing, eyes wide in amazement.
Lenny liked this much more than history class.
| 2018-05-24T19:28:31 | 2018-05-24T19:06:26 | 180 | 63 |
[WP] Aliens: Wow, it’s been a while since we last visited.You seem advanced but not rea-WHOAH, WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO WOLVES!?
|
"That's a long story that we don't really know much about. Wolves just sort of gravitated towards us and now we raise them like family members."
"But no wolf should have a snout like that!"
"Yeah... Some people are dicks who thought it was cool to breed them into weird shapes. Poor things."
"But... Wolves ate people! Now they're a symbiotic lifeform?!"
"Orf!" the pug said, wagging it's tail.
"How long do they live?"
"Only 15 years, but we're planning on testing immortality on them. It's the least we could do."
"But... Why? Why take in vicious wolves and turn them into... whatever they are?"
"Dogs have been our best friends for centuries. We had some rough times, but in the end we're inseparable."
"...I guess they are kind of cute."
"Orf! Bork! Bork! Boof."
|
Oh...
The furry community........ uh...... just ignore them. Yeah this place is a shitshow. People don’t vaccinate, people think climate change is a joke, the permafrost is releasing ancient diseases, Japan is still making tentacle garbage, and the USA has had multiple shootings this year and the Media is blaming it on video games. I’d recommend you not stay. Oh and Area 51 raid.
“W-What?!”
Sucks right? Yea. Oh and Elon Musk is planning on putting humanity into Minecraft. Now unless you’re coming here to fix us or just checking on us as we slowly kill ourselves I’d recommend you go back to your planet, and maybe take a few of the brightest scientists with you too.
| 2019-08-07T20:24:35 | 2019-08-07T19:57:20 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose.
|
Twenty five years.
Twenty five years she laughed. She lived. She was kind. Certainly far from perfect, but she was kind.
Twenty five years. And there were so many more ahead. There should have been.
But he made a decision.
I've been watching him. I watched him that morning. That cool, crisp morning when she'd been on her way to work. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other.
I watched him catch her off guard. Watched him pin her, watched her struggle. Watched her weep and scream when he...
I watched her crumble to the ground. I watched him abandon her battered body.
I watched red trickle into the grass. Watched it drip onto the concrete.
He used to watch her. And now I'm watching him.
It's late. Not beyond midnight, but close.
The bar's door swings open. Music and laughter pours out into the street. Arguments, cigarette smoke.
Three people step out. A woman and two men. She's homely looking with long brown hair. She seems a bit out of sorts. One man is tall, his dark hair speckled with hints of white.
And the third..
The man and woman say goodbye to the third. They leave. The third goes in another direction.
And I'm watching him.
It's quiet. The sounds from the bar are dying out. Aside from the occasional hum of traffic or a distant siren, it's quiet.
He has a little sway to his steps. A little stumble.
I catch the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
He pauses. I halt.
A slow turn and he's facing the wall, gently tugging his zipper down. It's urgent, I'd wager.
He stands there, swaying just a little. Eyes closed and a happy hum rumbling past his lips. It's complimented by a trickling drip.
He zips. He turns.
And I'm there.
He opens his eyes. He screams, a terrible bellow.
I silence him, a hand over his mouth like his had been on hers.
He struggles like she had. He weeps and pleads like she had.
"Twenty five years I watched her."
His red, bleary eyes widen as he stares at me. He trembles.
"And now I've been watching you."
|
Vince stood from his kneeling position, patting his hands off on his coat. Before him was a positively destroyed wall, and another beyond it, and another...
Beyond all of those broken walls was a corpse, laying in the living room of one of the nearby ground-floor apartments. Policemen swarmed the building, as did confused and sometimes irate residents, wondering why there were new holes leading through their apartments.
"What's your prognosis, detective?"
Vince turned his head, glancing toward his female counterpart- a younger woman, whose exemplary performance in the academy and later on the street let her climb the ranks of the local PD almost effortlessly.
"I said-"
"Power-type guardian, that much is for sure," Vince said. "No other type could bust through this many walls. And we're dealing with one that is very, very angry. The confusing thing is..." He slowly kneeled again, looking over some of the debris. "How is it running around when the host is six feet under?"
"It doesn't seem that far-fetched, Vince," Katrina said. She moved to stand next to him, idly looking over the damage. "... They exist, after all. What's to say one couldn't just roam around?" The concept of a 'hidden' guardian didn't last all that long, in modern society. The phenomenon was documented and researched to the point where it was *almost* common knowledge.
"Here's the thing, Katrina. Guardians are supposed to *die* when the host dies. They aren't supposed to just walk around like the hero of some action flick." He stood again, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we've got no idea what our perp looks like."
"'Perp'? You're calling the guardian a 'perp', now?"
"Take a look around, Kat. We've got ten busted up walls, one dead body, and not a whole lotta answers."
---
Something quick because I'm likely gonna be busy all day. Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but the first thing my mind went to was [JJBA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JoJo%27s_Bizarre_Adventure) themes.
| 2016-06-18T07:59:42 | 2016-06-18T07:59:23 | 83 | 30 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
A skinny man stands at a podium in front of hundreds of representatives from different countries. Brushing the long dreaded hair from his face revealing his bloodshot eyes.
"uhhhh Everyone, this is uhhhh Greg Brooks" says President Obama "it seems that he has stopped Daesh from their antics and quelled most of the major issues in the Middle East."
Brooks had just smoked out the entirety of the Middle East with what he called the "danks." How he was able to get over 1,000 pounds of marijuana to the Middle East from New Zealand has been a point of controversy. Many officials are still trying to decide whether to give him a medal or a sentence.
"Give him the death sentence!" bellows the Saudi representative "cut off his legs! Stone him to death!"
"Suh dude, maybe you need a hit of this shit" Brooks giggles as if his comment had any comedic merit.
Everyone seems to be a little less than satisfied about the whole thing. Not only were the best minds in the world unable to stop every issue in the Middle East, it was a douchebag wanna be Jamaican stoner who did it. In the most stoner of fashions no less, he managed to get every single person in a 2,000 mile radius of the epicenter absolutely baked. Hash production in the Middle East went up by %4,000. The (almost) international legalization of the product after this event helped the economy of these countries sky rocket. All because of the monster piles of marijuana he lit on fire.
The problem is over but still, fuck Greg.
|
A man in a white tee-shirt, dust covered jeans, and a hat plops down into a recliner and turns on his television and begins switching through channels until he comes to the news.
The images on screen were like it was straight out of a dream. Or a nightmare depending on where a person was from. It showed members of the Islamic State dead in streets and homes. All of them different in some way. Some had body parts swollen three time their normal size, others foaming at the mouths, most with bloodshot eyes and looks of agony on their faces.
The man yawned and continued to watch.
The news abruptly cut to film of what happened.
A high shot shows dust and sand flying as a large land force approachs a city. The camera zooms in to show a massive force of kangaroos closing in fast. A few dozen military officers riding emus are not to far behind them.
Another abrupt cut shows the kangaroos attacking the Islamic State forces in close combat as blackness begins to flow from their pouches. Spiders and scorpions run out onto the battlefield and begin attacking their targets.
More creatures begin to come out of the roos pouches. Snakes of varying size and color, a couple of dingos, and a few crocodiles.
The man turns off the television and smiles knowing that his nation was the turning factor in the fight against the Islamic State. He chuckles to himself and says quietly, "Well, at least we were kind enough not to send in the dropbears. Them little fucker are savage".
| 2016-01-29T10:11:13 | 2016-01-29T07:13:23 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] A Evil villain runs a tropical resort/business as a cover up on his island. However, he finds that the cover up is more profitable then his evil ventures and so he switches. His arch nemesis doesn't know this and constantly tears apart the place.
|
*^^^ding*
The elevator doors opened up
"There seems to also be a shortage of towels in building E and the toilets in the auditorium are and I quote 'unresponsive'" she said in a flat British accent as she boarded the Elevator with a man in a polo shirt
"How can toilets be unresponsive Sandra? they either work or they don't, there is no in between here" the other elevator passenger said
"I'm not sure what to tell you sir, that is what Michael described the situatio-"
**"Dr. Evil! I know you're here!"** a voice shouted from above
There was a collective sigh in the elevator "Mr. Hall, I think someone is here to see you"
Elijah pressed the top most button, floor 66, the level below the roof.
*Captain Thunderfist, as he calls himself, usually lands on the roof.* Elijah thought to himself
"Mr. Hall, you really do need to let him know you quit" Sandra said in a apathetic tone
"I've tried Sandra, he keeps thinking it's some overarching scheme I'm hatching"
*^^^ding*
The elevator doors opened up
**"A-ha! There you are Dr. Evil!"**
Elijah shot a glare at his assistant as he walked towards the helmeted good-doer
"Captain, what are you doing here?" Elijah asked obviously very annoyed at the entire thing
**"Foiling your plans of course Doctor!"**
"And what is it that I have done then?"
**"Something evil obviously you nefarious criminal!"**
Elijah gives a sigh
"Look, Captain, I don't know what it is you think I've done today, but It's eleven-thirty in the morning. You're gonna wake the guests if you don'-"
**"Wake the guests will I? you must mean the slaves in your army!"**
"Slaves? when have I ever done anything with slaves? it was always robots you caped baboon!"
**"Name calling will do nothing to help you Dr. Evil!"**
Elijah turns around to face Sandra as Captain Thunderfist monologues
"There really is no talking to this guy Sandra"
"Sir-
"No really I have tried"
"Sir"
"Stop interrupting me"
"The Receiver is being bent"
"What?"
Elijah turns back around to find that Captain Thunderfist is bending a receiver
"What the hell are you doing! That thing was 35,000 dollars!" Elijah shouted
"35,000 dollars of Pure evil!"
"Elijah, get him off the roof"
"What happened to 'tell him you quit'?"
"That was before he caused nearly $43,000 in damages"
"43.." he turns back around to find Captain Thunderfist now ripping off a piece of the receiver's base
Getting increasingly angry Elijah takes a deep breath and clears his throat, he knew what he had to do
**"Muhaha-Ha!, it is I! Dr. Evil!"**
**"So you finally revealed yourself fiend!"**
**"Yes, and you have made your final mistake my dear Captain, do you think me to be as incompetent as to leave my evil tools lying around for you to break?"**
Sandra snorts as to hold in her laughter
**"I have underestimated you Dr. Evil"**
**"You have!"**
**"What is your dastardly plot this ti-"**
**"For you see! I have finally built a device to capture the very essence of the sun for... uhm.. Your utter destruction!"**
**"As we speak it is nearing the sun waiting to be powered by it for it to unleash the power to destroy you once and for all Captain Thunderfist!"**
"This will be my biggest challenge yet" Captain Thunderfist said softly as he clenches his fist and shoots off to the sky
"I'm surprised the windows didn't break" Sandra said as she stepped towards her employer
"I'm surprised he's still so gullible" he said as he looked up to the sky
"Do you think he'll be back?"
"I hope not, he's caused enough trouble"
"So have you sir"
Dr. Evil gave a smirk as he patted her on the back "Let's get back to work, Miss Misfortune"
She shriveled her nose "Please don't call me that"
|
*Mr. Nightbringer, the appraiser for the death ray has arrived.*
I pressed the button on the intercom. "Thank you, Stacy. Send him in."
The doors to my new built office opened and a short man dressed all in black walked in. He was wearing sunglasses, which he immediately took off. The man looked me up and down and smiled.
"Pining for dark places, eh Nightbringer?" He tilted his head toward the lowered shades that kept my office from ever reaching above dim.
I returned his smile with one of my own, something I was having to get used to these past few weeks.
"Still not quite used to an office *outside*." I moved to shake the man's hand. "Good morning Mr. Wells, I'm happy you could respond to my request so promptly. And in person, too! I had been told one of your representatives would be sent. "
Wells waved the compliment away. "Not at all, not. at. all. A fully functioning death ray is something to put aside other business for. It's my pleasure."
My smile broadened, naturally this time.
"Please, have a seat," I gestured him to a leather backed chair and moved to my own rolly-throne. "I trust you're finding the resort enjoyable?"
"Yes, yes, quite nice." Wells set his briefcase on the table. He opened it and started sorting papers and folders on the desk in front of him. "You know, it's quite the vacation spot you've built up. Rather more successful than some of the other fronts for villainy I've seen. Seems like you were destined to run a resort rather than try and take over the world the old fashioned way."
He chuckled and I forced out a light laugh.
"Still, losing a dedicated super like yourself will be a big blow to the community."
"No, I'm sure it won't be that bad. I heard the Antagonizer recovered from her fiasco in DC." It had been pretty bad. The Mechanist defeated her pretty thoroughly. But the event had solidified her in the eyes of a lot of supers. She even had an arch-nemesis now.
Wells stopped working with his papers and smiled at me. "Yes, quite the freshman class coming up. Now, before I go and make the inspection, do you have all the documentation?"
I nodded and pulled a large folder from my drawer. I placed it lightly on the desk. "Everything from the original work orders to the component spec sheets."
Wells face lit up. "Excellent. You're probably one of few to be so on top of the paperwork. You sure you're going to miss the life of evil doing?"
"Oh," I laughed. "I'll be quite occupied."
As if on cue, the intercom chimed.
*Mr. Nightbringer. Security reports a disturbance in sector 6. They say it's Lightray again. They estimate most of the sector is destroyed.*
Shit. I pounded the intercom key. "Stacy, you tell them to evacuate the guests to the emergency shelter and send out the henchmen to delay him. I'll be there ASAP."
I turned to Wells. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wells, but I'll need to take care of this."
He bowed his head and opened his palms toward the door.
I pressed the emergency button under my desk, and one of my bookshelves opened to reveal my equipment locker and the black and purple uniform I had only donned a few times in the past year.
I slipped out of my office clothes and into the suit and started to buckle on my belts and webbings. Smoke bombs: check. Micro-Black Hole Generator: Check. Light absorption shield: Check.
"Oh, Nightbringer."
I turned to look at Wells. He was pointing toward the shaded windows, a coy smile on his lips.
"Would it be okay for me to draw your blinds? I haven't seen a brawl in ages."
I beamed, feeling a forgotten pride in my chest. "Please, be my guest."
___
*Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you'd like to read more of my work, check out /r/chrisbryant.*
| 2016-08-10T20:09:17 | 2016-08-10T20:07:02 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.
|
"OUCH!" I yell as I fly about a mile through the forest I had baited DooDoo the Clown, Lord of Death and Disease into fighting me in. I wipe some blood from my lip and look at the trail of broken trees charting my path through the forest.
Yea it's pissed, I think to myself. Granted calling it DooDoo the Clown didn't help but I mean come on. Dude smells like crap and all those diseases it is so proud of color its face like makeup. What else am I supposed to call it?
Putting that aside I was in serious trouble. That guy was strong with a capital S. It was unfazed by anything I threw at it and kept coming. Death Metal made it stronger, Rock, Rap and all the others I tried barely put a dent in it. I was on Pop now and it had just broke through my defense combo of [Can't touch this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otCpCn0l4Wo) and [Bulletproof](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk8eJh4i8Lo). Not only did it touch this it made me bleed.
I watched as it walked toward me through the cleared path it's leaking eyes brimming with hatred. As it passed tree stumps bubbled with ooze and plants wilted. Time was up. Its diseases were spreading and I had to take it out before it killed me and everything else.
"Oh god, no" I thought as the realization of what I had to do hit me. The forbidden playlist must be used. It was a 100% guaranteed win if I used it, but at a steep price. The list was locked away after I first used it in the Princess Big Hands fight and learned the horrifying effects. Effects that should never be used. Except now there was no choice.
Keeping my eyes on DooDoo Slayer of Noses I put in the override code and selected the playlist.
Love Songs.
As [Unchained Melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24NbHUHw_jM) starts playing The Lord of Death and Disease stops in its tracks, the hate fading from its eyes. A burning warmth fills them as a smile spreads on its lips.
"Yea, this is about to get awkward." I say.
|
I'm gasping for breath, knees, palms and iPod shuffle on the floor. Somehow, I find the energy to look up.
There stands Suc Kon, a delinquent who dropped out of Spawt Eefy, school for the auditarily attenuated. He now wants to eat all the music in the world.
Me - I didn't realize you'd gotten this powerful...
Suc - How does it feel? Cant look down on Suc from your lofty peak anymore eh? Well, today you can SUC MY -
Me - I swore that I'd never use it again... but it looks like I have no choice!!!
I reach out for the iPod and press the "Next" button four times.
Suc - When are you going to learn that music is USELESS against me?
He opens his mouth wide and inhales. The sound starts getting fainter and fainter, until it fades completely. From deep in his stomach, you can hear echoes the song.
Then, he gags. He dry retches once, then twice. Suddenly, he pukes out... a well-seasoned piece of spicy chicken.
Me - This is the most dangerous artist in the world. Only two people have access to their songs - the President of India, and the President of the student council. I'm sure you've heard it's name whispered in hushed tones, deep in dark alleyways... The band "Eiffel 65".
Suc's eyes go wide.
Me - Anyone who hears it is cursed to forever spew out food garnished with 65 spices. Chicken 65, Mutton 65, Paneer 65... It was how world hunger was eradicated. One man stepped up to bear the burden. Unfortunately, it also lead to a heart cholesterol epidemic, which led to that man becoming the most hated human in existence. And Suc, you don't know this but... that man, Mai Dik, was your father.
Suc falls to his knees, assuming my old posture.
Suc - How is this poss-
He spits out a piece of cottage cheese.
Me - Someday, maybe you'll be able to break the curse. For now, though... I am the victor.
| 2022-05-17T10:18:44 | 2022-05-17T10:01:07 | 66 | 15 |
[WP] You live in an uber-religious society in 3543, and the biggest historical discovery has just been made. It is a video, and will be broadcast across the world. No one knows it's contents, and no one can stop the broadcast once it begins. "history of the entire world, i guess" by bill wurtz.
|
"He said that we lived on a rock floating in space" my close friend Derek breathed into the phone, aghast. "Yes, but he also said the sun used to be a deadly laser. Clearly it is fake, the work of evil. His Holiness would never turn the life giving sun into such an item". I heard my friend press the tape recorder again, he had recorded the entire broadcast.
"It's the Cambrian explosion! - wow, that's animals and stuff"
"That's us! We are animals, we came from this Cambridge explosion or whatever it is" he shouted into the phone. I was confused.
"Explosion, like the big bang? Whatever he said it was that created the universe? That's crazy!"
"Is it though" Derek was clearly excited "what if all we have been told is fake, and that our ancestors learned to use an egg, on land. That there was water in the egg. That originally, our baby is in the egg, in the water, in the egg. I know this is crazy but it is such an old document, it could be true!" At that moment, I heard a bang come from the phone, and a muffled voice, one I didn't recognise, spoke.
"He believes the ancient hidden video. Dispose of him."
I was silent, if they knew he had been speaking to me, I was done for.
"Damn disloyal cleric, leaking our hidden past. Wait a minute..." I heard the phone being picked up "what's this?"
I hung up, hoping this nightmare could end, that we could once again be hit by another ball of flaming rocks.
(Edit: Formatting)
|
It was Satan, of course. Only the eternal trickster could ever conceive of such madness, such insanity. The High Priest was quick to express his disappointment that the expedition had resulted in failure. Like last year, with the bones of animals too big for this blessed Earth. Satan was always there, making up his stories about what he wanted to pretend the world used to be like. There was no doubt as to its origin.
For one, the video stopped in the early 21st century, which was more than convenient. A millennium and a half had passed since then, plenty long enough for any blatant contradictions with the truth to be reconciled. Why had we never heard of this "France"? Well, the long gap might lead you to believe that the country had simply been taken over at some point between the end of the "past" and the start of now. St Michael's land would have something to say about that, though. They'd occupied the area that Satan claimed was once called France since just after the coming of Christ, and *they'd* never heard of it.
It's always interesting to know what Satan wants us to think. He always lies, so even if we aren't entirely sure what happened, we can know for certain what didn't. A plethora of long-debunked lies and fallacies, like evolution and the Big Bang. It was pretty blatant, to be perfectly honest.
If Satan wanted us to fall for his lies, he could at least have put some effort into making them believable.
^^^^^.
r/asmo
| 2018-10-08T02:25:28 | 2018-10-08T00:38:56 | 767 | 481 |
[WP]God returns to earth, but is shocked and baffled to discover humanity's existence. Turns out we're an unexpected side effect to the real reason earth was created.
|
"I- I don't know, Lucifer. I don't know what happened."
"You did the best you could. Another round?"
"Yeah, sure, I like this stuff. What is it?"
"Whisky. Fermented grain mash."
"I don't remember creating it. I don't think I would make something like this."
"Well, you didn't, not really. The humans were the ones to figure out the fermentation process."
God spat out the whiskey and in a sweep of his hand the Celestial Dive Bar was vanished. Lucifer sighed in longing as the bottle in front of him disappeared with a divine poof. He could summon up some of the stock he had back in hell, but that wouldn't be polite.
"It's not so bad. I mean, the humans are pretty interesting when you get to know them. They're pretty good at trickery, you've got to give them that."
"I thought I killed those two. Where did they all come from?"
"The normal means. You gave them the functioning parts, you know."
"But, I mean, they changed everything so much. They're creating stuff now."
"They're not really creating anything," Lucifer said. "They're just changing up the stuff that you gave them. It's not too impressive."
"More than you can fucking do," God mumbled. "And what's this I hear about me sending my son down there? You've been watching them, what's that all about?"
"Might have been a practical joke that got a little out control."
What's all that about the Promised Land? They think only one part of that stupid planet is their Promised Land? That doesn't even make sense. Is this your doing? Are you behind all of this?"
"No. And I don't know how they could consider that a Promised Land, there were people already living there. In their stories, they had to actually conquer the Promised Land."
"That's stupid!" God thundered. "The whole point of the Promised Land is that it's promised to you! So that there's no one there to ruin it for you!"
"We could flood the whole thing again," Lucifer suggested.
"Why bother. All the cool animals are already extinct. Might as well just start the entire thing over."
"Shame."
"It is a shame. This screws up the whole prophecy. The Zarglaxians from Alpha-Centauri are going to show up here, right where the sacred scrolls I gave them say to go, and they're not going to find a damn Promised Land! That's makes me look like a jerk."
"Stupid humans."
"You said it, Luce."
"Still, that whiskey is pretty nice."
God sighed, and with a wave of his hand the Celestial Dive Bar was back. Lucifer smiled.
"It's just, it's just," God said as he poured another glass. "I wanted it to go perfectly this time."
"Yeah," Lucifer said. "Dad's going to be pissed when he finds out you messed up again."
|
"Oh you did not" huffed Joel. Joel was being incredulous.
"Joel, you're being incredulous."
"You've been looking for an excuse to use that word all day."
I had been looking for an excuse.
"Doesn't mean you're not."
"Fine, fine. So. You honestly left the oven on while you were on holiday? And your house is still there?"
I sighed. "Of course its still there. I would have started the conversation with 'My whole house is a smoldering ash!' if it weren't. Wouldn't I?"
Joel cleared his throat incredulously.
"Well get this. I left a roast in there too. Whole time. Even a few bits of potato. Just cooking away in the oven all while I'm on Holiday."
"I fail to see what this could possibly have to do with the pot on my desk. You didn't bring me the roast, did you? I really don't want a charcoal entree."
I gave up trying to explain to Joel the dynamics of the situation. I opened up the pot to reveal my roast.
There she was. Floating! Maybe it was the fact that I bought name brand aluminum foil to line the pot or because I used a lot of garlic salt on the potatos, but the roast floats! And spins! Just sitting there, floating and spinning. But then. Then you lean in close and thats when notice the little bits moving around on the roast. Little specs small as could be. Moving about as if their movements mattered in the slightest.
Thats when Joel finally got it.
"Oh by God, Mel. You cooked up life! With a normal pot roast!? What are you going to do with it?"
"Eat it, of course." I replied.
"Whys it all wet?" Joel never could be happy.
"I covered it in water before I left the house this morning. Makes it warm up better in the microwave. I'm not going to let this go to waste. You know what it takes to get a reservation at the Evolution Eatery? I managed to figure out their recipe by chance, I'm sure as heck not going to waste it by making it rubbery in the microwave."
Joel just sat there watching it spin. Thats when a slightly larger spec left the roast and landed on the potato chunk that didn't completely shrivel away over the long weekend.
"Better eat it soon." He pointed at the potato. "Looks like it's just about to go bad."
"Well, Joel, do you wish to join me?"
Joel's face lit up like I had never seen.
I smiled. *Someone's* gonna get to third base tonight.
| 2014-11-09T14:59:12 | 2014-11-09T13:53:08 | 367 | 82 |
[WP] You're immortal and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small corner shop one day to find it is owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really need milk though.
|
"Fucking splendid" - I said, having poured the cereal into the bowl before realizing the carton of milk in my fridge was more sour than everything I've tasted over the couple of years I've lived.
It's been almost a month since the last time I walked outside. My housekeeper usually does all the grocery but she's on an extended vacation that I begrudgingly allowed. Figured the poor spectre needs it, after 498 years cleaning the toilet for a dude who won't die.
The sun was out. Lots of people walking, running, driving, and going on with their lives. The street seems busy and lively. I fucking hated it. I had the immense urge to just walk back inside and eat a dry cereal bowl but I couldn't. Not a single living soul should have to commit that distasteful act, not even the supervillain who tried to put the world under his dictatorship and was halfway successful if he hadn't just disappeared suddenly. As disturbing as it can be, I kinda missed the bloke. Might even try grabbing a drink with him if I meet him again. And I did.
Fucking jinxed myself if I was being honest. The man was there, flesh and blood. The cybernetically-enhanced psychopath who believed in mechanical supremacy is fucking organizing bottles of tomato sauce in a corner store. The robotic arm that was once a nuclear weapon is now just, well, an arm. Funny to think retirement can be so mediocre.
"Where can I get two cartons of wholemilk mate?" - I called out.
"In the cooler on your left. Just put them on the counter I'll be right with you in a minute" - Guy didn't even looked at me. Seems like the tomato sauce categorization was an important process to his business now.
"Last time you said that you were gone for a century mate" - Now he looked at me. There was surprise, nolstagia, and probably comfort that went through his eyes in a 3 second long silent gaze.
And then he smiled. The bastard still has the evil smile that I've always find fucking uneasy. But now it just seems like he never knew another way to smile.
"Well, I figured local retail requires less effort than global restructure"
|
"Morning Nomostro" I say to him, not entirely cheerful, but lacking any animosity.
'Mornin' Timanus' he replies, with a mirthful grin. He knows I hate being called that now.
"C'mon Norm, we've been over this like 200 years now, I go by Thomas"
'Well that's convenient, because I have a tab for a Timanus that still owes quite the sum'
"Ohho no. We are even after the volcano thing. And then some I'd say"
'Well wait just a Us-Damned second...' once again the mirthful grin. Norm is clever to be fair but he kinda ruins it by taking this much pleasure in his own witticisms.
'...Have you any idea the insurance premiums I got stuck with after that?! Not to mention MIT putting me on their shit mit list for not returning their lazer'
"Are you really still blaming me for that, c'mon, how could I have known the volcano was that close to eruption, plus it was YOUR lazer that set it off in the first place" I just wanted milk. How does he rope me into these conversations?
"and I had to spend four years regrowing my liver!"
'That is a long time to be sober...for you. But how was I supposed to know the lazer would actually go right through you? I mean I've tried every type of projectile to that point and none of them actually pierced your skin'
"Yeah well, I guess our dad didn't exactly know about lazers when he made me"
'Genuinely, I'm sorry for that one'
He wasn't sorry for the right reasons. After that confrontation we agreed to call it quits. Our game of immortals was actually dangerous to us now. Human ingenuity had advanced enough to kill gods.
"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you agreed to mediation. I couldn't keep doing that. I just know you'd aim for my fucking liver again"
'Hahaha, Oh my dad, I totally would, and you'd be all "now I can't drink alcohol" for like years again, HAHAHA'
"Shut the hel-er your place-up" nailed it.
| 2021-07-18T20:53:08 | 2021-07-18T20:35:51 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
It was 11:56am, on the 6th of November, 2018. The family had gathered around, Uncle Leon and his boyfriend David, my Mum and most importantly; my sister.
My Uncle had been given ***COLLECTOR*** and spent the majority of his life as a Tax Collector, in and out of offices and working with Trackers for the New Earth Government. My Grandfather was given ***SOLDIER*** and he fought during the Vietnam War and served his entire career in the Army while my mother was given ***INSPIRE***, through the hardships she experienced in life she would one day go on to become a world-renown philanthropist and built a successful business to help others in need.
11:57...
"I can't wait to see what you'll get! I hope it'll be Hero or Protector, imagine that, having a big brother as a hero!" Exclaimed my sister,
I chuckled, "Don't get too ahead of yourself."
11:58...
I looked up to see people I'd known and loved during my 18-year tenure on this world and I was only two minutes from discovering my future.
11:59...
My Uncle came over and shook my hand, "Whatever happens mate, we'll love you no matter what."
I smiled in return and closed my eyes, ready for the big moment.
12:00...
I gritted my teeth, feeling the burning sensation as the word was etched into my arm. I opened my eyes to see my family, standing there, terrified. I slowly tilted my head downwards and saw five letters sitting there;
***DEATH***
My mum broke down, years of working hard to give us, her kids a better life gone to waste. My Uncle started to walk over as I felt yet another sensation in my arm...
"Oh my God... Look!"
Afraid to see what awaited me, I looked down at my arm once more and what I saw... I will never forget.
***DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS***
EDIT: This is my first WP so go nice please :)
|
Tick tock
I had hoped, at one time, that my number would be big. After all who would want to be one of those poor kids, they who turn 18 and find their actual age written between beneath their thumb. Can you imagine the parents as they count down the days, not knowing when it will come, just that it will hang over their heads for the whole year.
Tick tock
I once told my mother that if my number was 18, I would drink bleach; who could take the anticipation?
Tick tock
Mother sent me to my room without desert. She said it was a horrible thing to say. "kill myself because I can't take the anticipation".
Tick tock
'Anticipation', such a remarkable world: it implies things that have yet to come.
Tick tock
But long after the sun collapsed, after the last flame of the last star had died out, after the heat death of the universe, when entropy finally won, there was only one sound in all of creation:
Tick tock: *it's not a clock but the beating of my heart*.
At first I thought my number said 8. I thought this was odd. And then it clicked, it only took a second, and fror some reason I felt delight. I would live forever.
Tick tock,
I forgot though that the thing about forever is that it never stops, even when the universe goes kaploot. So I now float in space. As I will always. Sometimes I think about the forever I have lived and then I remember, forever is always yet to come. The empty world that I've so far visited is exactly like the 100 other forever yet to come. As I said, that's the thing about forever, who would want to live forever, when forever doesn't stop? But that's all I want. More than anything, is for forever to finally stop, for this 'me' that will never die to stop experiencing and fucking die. A consciousness must devour something other than itself.
| 2017-03-16T02:18:58 | 2017-03-16T00:57:55 | 212 | 63 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Michael,
We were both graduating. I understand, and it was easier for us to just go our own separate ways. I wanted to say something, but rejection hurts more than leaving questions unasked. It wouldn't have worked anyway.
I loved how you call me Katherine instead of Katie. Everyone else called me Katie, even though I introduced myself as Katherine.
I loved that you made a game of making me laugh when I wasn't supposed to.
I loved that I would wake up tangled in you, like you couldn't get close enough while we were asleep.
I loved crawling in bed with you after getting back from an early class.
I'm sorry that I hid things from you. I was afraid. Afraid of pushing you away and losing the little time we had left. I told you we had a little scare, no big deal. I told you that I took care of it, I was fine, don't worry about it. That wasn't a total lie, but I definitely fudged some things.
I'm sorry I was short with you, cold to you by the end. It wasn't logical, I just didn't know how to deal.
It was more than a little scare. I was more than a few days late. It took more than just a pill. I would have been due last month. I was terrified, and I didn't want to put that on you. I'm still not okay.
I imagine a parallel universe where it had gone differently. I Know I made the right decision for me at the time, but there's always the *what-if*. Where would we be? Would we be happy? Would you resent me?
Do you resent me now?
I miss you.
Katherine
|
Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M
| 2017-11-05T19:14:02 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 236 | 55 |
[WP] Your father told you to never open the music box in the attic. Your mother used her last words to beg you to open it.
|
My father divorced my mother when I was very young, and for most of my life, he was the only parent I had known. It wasn't until I was eighteen that I found out my mother was still alive-- she sent a nice card and $20 bucks in the mail when I graduated high school. When I confronted my father about it, all he could do was try to explain how her disdain for children must have ended now that I was an adult. I could tell there was something he wasn't telling me, but I just assumed it meant that their breakup was more serious than I'd previously thought. We arranged a week where I'd visit her cabin in the Northeast, but you'd have thought he was planning a funeral. He pulled me aside at the airport, and gave me a warm hug. "Never open the ivory music box, Emily. I love you too much."
I never really thought much about it, to be honest. My mother picked me up at the airport, and we had a pretty normal week. I did eventually find the music box he had mentioned-- my mother kept it stashed away in the attic, along with the rest of the family heirlooms. A few silver candlesticks, a dagger that great-great-somebody-or-another made from bronze, and a lot of faded leather books that reeked of dust. When I asked her about it, she informed me it would be all mine one day. What she expected me to do with it, I'm not sure. She refused to tell me any of the family history that went along with it.
Father seemed unusually happy to see me when I returned, though I'm not sure how much of that was my imagination, and how much of that was just me travelling out of state for the first time. I went a few hours away for college, and then further away to the West Coast once I graduated. My father never failed to call every week. My mother, on the other hand... I was lucky to get a Christmas card.
I was in my late twenties when my father was diagnosed with cancer, and by the time I was able to travel back home, he was on his death bed. "Emily, you know I love you," he said. "Promise me you'll never open the ivory music box." I did, of course. I would have promised him anything at that point. But whenever I asked him to explain, he would shake his head and change the topic, or close his eyes and fall asleep. He passed away a week later, and I never did get an answer from him.
I tried asking my mother, but she couldn't even be bothered to reply to my letters. Honestly, I think the only reason I found out she was dying is because the lawyer in charge of her estate found the yearly Christmas cards. The Massachusetts winter had not been kind this year, and she was simply too old to survive complications from pneumonia.
"I know I haven't been a major part of your life," she said, her breath rasping with every syllable. "But you're still my daughter. The family cabin is yours to do with as you please. Read the books. Light the candles. Open the music box."
I couldn't help but laugh. "You know that was the one thing father told me never to do, right?"
She shook her head angrily, and lifted up a frail hand to for emphasis. She probably wanted to jab it at me, if it hadn't been restricted by the IV drip in her hands. "You are your own woman. That box belongs to you now, and the least you can do is hear it play one time."
And she was right. My father never could explain why he wanted me to keep the music box closed. Was he really that afraid of my mother's heritage? My heritage, I realized. It was my heritage, too. It was all I could think about as I travelled back to her cabin, estate paperwork in hand. I didn't want anything to do with it, mind you, but I at least owed it to her to face it one last time before I put it all up for auction. The cabin looked as bare as I remembered-- my mother was never one for decoration, which made the music box all the more unusual. It was waiting for me in the attic, where I had first discovered it all those years ago. My hands shook with anticipation when I opened the lid.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I certainly wasn't expecting a gust of air to hit the back of my throat. The candles around me burst into flame with a loud *pfumpf*, illuminating the carving of a pentagram I had never seen before. It wasn't until the etched lines started to pulse blood red that I realized I was no longer in control of my body. My legs refused to run for my life, and my hands resisted all attempts to drop the ivory music box I still held between my hands.
"What a naive brat," said my voice, as my body started to move of its own will. "The ritual gets harder every generation. My God, this body is already in its thirties. Such a waste. And to think that stubborn mule of a man almost ruined everything. I'll have to be more careful this time around." My body carefully set the music box down in the center of the room, and walked downstairs to the bathroom vanity.
"Welcome to the family secret, Emily," said my body, making direct eye contact with my own reflection. "I've been alive on and off since 1674. You, however, will soon be dead. A small price to pay for immortality. Nonetheless, I appreciate your donation to my cause."
No amount of mental screaming seemed to have any effect-- could she even hear my thoughts? My thoughts and my senses were all I had left. My own body had betrayed me, seized by my mother, and bending to her will instead of my own. Even now, I could feel my alertness fading into darkness. I can only hope I'll pass on into the afterlife once I stop fighting to stay awake. I just want to see my father one last time... to apologize... and to let him know he was right...
|
"Open the window a crack, first," she had instructed, her voice weak with illness, "then the music box."
​
The soft words had haunted Dana's thoughts since the night of his mother's final breath. He had heard only vaguely of the music box in the attic prior. A few weeks before his mother's passing, he and his father had been rummaging through the attic looking for some old memories she had requested to see for the final time. Some dusty photo albums. A tiny pair of shoes that Dana once wore when he was barely a year old. A box of letters.
​
He had happened upon the music box by mistake. It was silver and engraved with lavish designs. Dana had run his fingers over the embossed symbols and unclasped its tiny clip. The tune of Amazing Grace erupted from the small box, much louder than anticipated. Within an instant, Dana's father had snatched the little trinket from his hands and slammed it closed.
​
"Don't you EVER open this again, you hear me?" His eyes were piercing. Dana felt as if he could hear his father's heart beating furiously. His glare softened. "Son, this music box is very special to me, alright? I just don't want it to be damaged. It means a lot." He stepped over to a hand carved wooden box and slipped the music box inside, sealing it shut with a small key.
​
"I-- Sorry, Dad, I didn't know..." Dana mumbled, still shocked from the suddenness.
​
And now here he lay. His mother was no longer of this world and in her parting words, she begged him to open the box. His mind swirled with uncertainty. He rolled over onto his side and peered toward the digital alarm clock at his bedside. The time read 0300.
​
"The witching hour." Dana whispered to himself, before guffawing at his own dramatization. His father would never even find out, Dana reasoned. After all, the old man was simply worried Dana would break it -- and he would not. He would be careful. Quietly, Dana slipped out of his sheets and his bare feet plunked upon the shag rug below. The squeak of the hinges on his bedroom door seemed deafening in the darkness. With each step, the floor lurched and creaked. He could hear his father's snores from a neighboring room.
​
The hallway seemed to stretch into infinity as Dana plodded along. Two more doors. He slowly opened the door to a walk-in closet and ducked inside. The final door was within the closet and housed a dropdown stairwell to the attic. Dana unclasped the lock and pulled a small rope, balancing his hand on the port so it would not slam down. Slowly, he lowered the stairs and clambered up.
​
The attic was pitch black. He felt around helplessly for the single bulb that hung from the rafters. A box caught his foot and slid loudly a few inches as he barely caught himself from tumbling. At last, he felt the metal links of the bulb. Click-clack. The attic could now be seen under a yellow haze.
​
Dana tip-toed his way over to the wooden box he had seen his father hide the music box in. He tried the clasp. Locked. But he was prepared. He had brought with him a pair of metal shears to slice the thin clasp with and with one crack, the box was open. He reached in and pulled out the little music box, turning it in his hands, curiously. He could feel the grooves and twists of its engraved designs. His eyes fell upon the wooden box it had been housed. There were a handful of oddities within-- papers with strange symbols, a small plastic baggie with hair, a strange vial.
​
"The window." he recalled just before forcing the music box open. Quietly, he ambled over toward the one small dusty window in the attic and unlocked it. With some effort, he forced it up, the pane sliding with a deafening crash. He froze a moment, his hair standing on end, awaiting the inevitable shuffling and footsteps. Seconds passed. Nothing. He sighed, relieved.
​
The crisp winter air crept in through the open window, swiftly filling the attic with a ghostly chill. Dana shivered before crouching by the window. His heart was thumping. He was both anticipating the reason his mother had requested this, and the potential wrath of his father. He breathed deeply, attempting to calm himself.
​
He unclasped the little music box, slowly bringing it open.
​
The blaring tune of Amazing Grace startled Dana and he dropped the box to the floor, jumping to his feet. He could feel his pulse on his throat.
​
A smokey white puff streamed from the music box, dancing into the cold air. Dana watched it, the sound of the song still resonating. The white cloud slowly twisted and floated through the air, toward the window. Just before it exited, Dana saw his mother's face.
​
"Thank you." he thought he heard a whisper. The cloud disappeared into the night. Dana quickly shut the music box, ceasing the blaring sounds as he began to hear creaking and shuffling below. Panicked, he scooped it up and threw it back into the wooden box, but not before his eyes fell upon a small booklet within.
​
"Impermanence" the title read. He sifted through. The vial was not any fluid. It was blood. The hair-- his mothers. The booklet read step-by-step instructions on conserving a spirit in death. Dana fell to his knees and glanced out the window than back toward the materials. Tears welled in his eyes as he heard the stomping of his father's footsteps up the stairs to the attic. He turned over his shoulder to meet a pair of glassy, desperate eyes.
| 2019-06-07T22:55:35 | 2019-06-07T20:26:33 | 51 | 32 |
[WP] Turns out mom and dad used to be the top agents of the KGB and CIA respectively. Big brother now is top gun at MI6 and little sister is the best of Mossad. You've just figured this out and now you have to explain who you work for.
|
Well, Mom, Dad, I got my new job today!
What? No, no, no. I don’t work for either of them.
No, not the NSA either. I got a job at Bestbuy!
Look; I know John and Jane are doing great at their new “Consulting” Jobs. You can’t see me, but I put that in air quotes. They seem to travel a lot for “Consulting”. Also seem to have a lot of guns and muscle tone
Yeah, mom, I know. M16 and Mossad. How is this even allowed? Don’t they want ACTUAL citizen’s to work for them?
We were born in Burbank mom, that makes us American.
Just-Just put dad on the phone.
No, dad, BestBuy is not a cover job. I actually want a life.
Yes I’m happy.
Yes, I know I tested very well. I just need something to unwind for a bit.
Of course, JOHN couldn’t ever do any wrong. He always was the favorite.
*sigh* no, I don’t want to fight. Look, I love you. I will call you back later, ok?
Yeah ill call John and Jane later whenever they’re done “Consulting”.
Love you. Bye.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Family right? Anyway, it’s so nice to finally get started Mr. Carmichael, I can’t wait to get started!
-Audiolog of Jack Doe, Burbank Bestbuy, Formally BuyMore, Carmichael Industries Consultant
|
I came from a family with a proud history in the craft of espionage, though, naturally, we could never boast of it to outsiders. Mom was retired KGB, she'd been the best, but defected when she fell in love with my dad, who was one of the CIA's brightest. Over the years we'd moved from country to country as a family, staying one step ahead of those that hunted us. Eventually, as myself and my siblings grew older, we were each recruited by top agencies of nations around the world. My brother knew who he wanted to work for. He'd loved the time we'd spent in London, and MI6 was very persuasive in their pitch to him. He was one of their top agents in no time. Sis had blended in when we were in the Middle East, and had converted to Judaism, so she was naturally a priority for Mossad. Soon she was changing the political climate of the world from the shadows and sands of the Middle East.
Then there's me. I'm the youngest. I'm also the best. What nobody knows is, I've been working for the Chinese for years. I've been undercover as a Hollywood actor, starringin major blockbusters then disappearing for months on "vacations" overseas, or filming movies "on location" in foreign countries as cover for my mission there. Older brother better watch out, I start filming in London next week.
| 2015-11-08T19:56:42 | 2015-11-08T19:21:26 | 407 | 126 |
[WP] Humanity is the only species that treat "unrealistic" stories like sci-fi and fantasy as a legitimate genre, instead of just something to amuse children that adults no longer need. Because of this, humanity cracks FTL while species much older than us are still stuck in their home system.
|
Who knew that Xenoanthropology could be so boring?
Growing up, I imagined what it would be like to travel the stars. To sail, from one system to another, discovering new life, new civilizations. Hearing their histories, sharing their food, reading their stories.
A life like that would be everything a girl like me could have dreamed of.
But alas, compared to humans, aliens proved themselves dreadfully boring.
Philosophers and scientists of all sorts have discussed this topic to death. Why was humanity the first species, of so many, to achieve faster than light travel? Why were other species so advanced in other matters? Was the reason biological? Environmental? Cultural?
Well, I'd say it's a bit of everything.
Humans are narrative creatures by nature. Our biology, our brains, are designed to naturally build relational, cause and effect frameworks as we experience reality. This in turn results in a basic narrative structure: I push button, I get food pellet.
Our biology drives our narrative nature, and our narrative nature drives our culture. We built our civilizations around the stories and histories we passed down. Sometimes to our detriment, like when old stories caused the agricultural dust bowl catastrophe before scientists had to step in and show farmers a better, more sustainable way of doing things beyond their traditions. Or the slightly more recent climate wars, where we told ourselves everything would work out, despite all the data suggesting otherwise.
But ultimately, it was our human ability to ignore apparent reality, in favor of imagination, which let us even dare to break the laws which science insisted were absolute.
Humans are strange, wonderful, contradictory creatures. It's simultaneously our greatest weakness and our greatest strength.
But to every other species humans encountered since breaking the lightspeed barrier, *we* were the real aliens.
They all saw their world, and the universe, only as it appeared to be. They had no strict concept of self, of identity beyond their place in the whole. All their stories were merely simple recountings of natural events, spoken of in the blandest, most accurate terms. When exposed to the concept of fiction, of imagination, they reacted with a mix of horror and disdain.
Their food followed this pattern. Bland nutrients void of cultural flavor, but full of everything their biology needed to thrive.
This, apparently, was the norm that all life followed.
All life, save for us Earthen lunatics.
I dwell on these thoughts as I scroll through the histories of this latest world--if you could call them that--searching desperately for anything that could be even vaguely construed as narrative, something different or out of place.
Anything beyond scientific jargon, really.
But as always, I find nothing, and my jealousy for the Xenogeologists grows even greater.
|
The Kaz were far from a simple species. In their preferred form, they resembled crystal jellyfish. Against my orders, I'd shown them a photo of what a jellyfish from Earth looked like and they were anxious for days.
They'd lay their tendrils on any exposed skin they could find, sending me rapid flashes of feelings, memories, images. The picture I showed them, their little ones, a mixture of anxiety and hope.
"Are there others like you out there?" I guessed to myself.
It took time to converse with the Kaz, they were naturally gifted talkers. There were no mixed signals or misunderstandings when talking to a Kaz. It made talking back to them tricky, our core scientists developed a pen that could disperse electrical shocks that we could use to reply back yes or no. I asked if they could implement more flexible language and they said had no response. I used the pens twice to teach them what it meant when I shook or nodded my head. Some of the Kaz adapted to my language, my mix of sign language and words.
Not only were they excellent communicators, they were also graceful. They could change the size and shape of their bodies, even the hardness. They lived long lives, shrinking themselves as they aged to use up less energy.
Nugget, the name I gave to the Kaz leader, was the smallest of them all. Nugget was barely the size of a chicken nugget, thus the name. His messages were the easiest of any to understand, his tendrils would wrap around my fingers and he'd ask me many questions.
He showed me their sun, referred to on earth as Trappist 1. Our own sun was nearly ten times as large as theirs and twice as hot. Nugget also showed me pictures of his family. He tried to show me pictures of my sun (or at least what he thought our sun looked like). He showed me a memory of when I yelled, anger. Lastly he showed me one of his war brothers, Lancer. I named him Lancer because war brothers were quite literally tools. They turned themselves into spears that other Kaz could use in fights over territory.
He looked at me after flashing the images and I waited.
There was no reason to tell him why I was here. There were no rules about what I was allowed to do here or what I couldn't tell the Kaz.
I shook my head. It wasn't the first time he'd asked the question, perhaps he was asking for an update.
"I'm sorry, Nugget." I said. "Your people won't be fighting alongside us. We'll be fighting yours."
| 2022-09-30T10:16:56 | 2022-09-30T08:56:49 | 195 | 81 |
[WP] You hear a knock at your door. When you open it, you find your archnemesis sprawled out just past the threshold, battered, bruised, and very clearly only hanging onto life by a thread. "Sorry. It's just ... I didn't know where else to go" they mutter as you look down at them.
|
“Sorry. I just…. I didn’t know where else to go.” I stared at the man, who was so much more than a man. A god in flesh. Near invulnerable. So righteous. His costume, in tatters, blood slowly seeping from wounds. His breathing is heavy, heartbeat is rapid. Not dying, but his healing, which was always prodigious, had slowed. Something new, or something very, very old. I’ve not seen or heard of anything that could do something like this. It was a sight I’d always hoped to see, but at my hand, not… someone else’s.
Helios. The hero with the power of the Sun. Broken like a shattered lamp.
I step out the door, looking around, then pick the man up by his ridiculous cape and drag him in. He grunts in pain, but no other sound escapes. Well, he’s still tough, I’ll give him that. A bit more gently I set him on the Lazy Boy in the corner, and turn the TV down.
I could snap his neck, tear off his head with a flick of my wrist. It would be easy, I’ve never seen him so tired, so out of sorts. Not even after our week long battle in the volcano.
No, he came here. To my home. Homes were… well, not sacred, not for monsters like me, but for heroes? You just didn’t go after one in their house. It broke the rules that no one ever read, but always knew to follow. That he risked this, here, meant something bad.
“Beer?” Helios blinks at me, then nods. There’s a little less fear in his eyes, now. He knew the risk he was taking. As much as I called him a stupid moron, he wasn’t. Just the shit talk of the game. I guess I should come up with some better invectives next time we fight.
I set one cheap can of beer down next to him on the stand, and crouch to get a good look at him.Yeah, already healing. The cut on his head is scabbing over already, though the sheeting of blood across his face isn’t going anywhere. His breathing is better, his heart isn’t racing anymore. He opens it, and clinks it to mine when I offer. We drink. He drinks his fast, like a man dying of thirst… or someone needing some alcoholic lubrication to comprehend what he’d been through.
He takes a deep breath, then says, “Desolation, I-“
I thump my tail on the hardwood and raise one set of claws to interrupt him. “Drink. Get cleaned up. Talk later. Unless you can guarantee this won’t end in us trying to kick the shit out of each other.”
He fell silent, the perfect teeth clicking shut. See? Smarter than he looked.
“Shower’s down the hall, to the left. Don’t hit the yellow button, that’s the acid wash.”
It’s about thirty minutes later when he comes out of the bathroom, back in costume. Costume has been scrubbed a bit, and he looks more like his old self. Looks more like the god I fight every few weeks, and not the weak human I saw on my porch.
I offer another beer, which he takes, and opens it. I open mine, and he takes a slower sip, this time. Considering, weighing. I can’t help but lash my tail in excitement. The monster in me, maybe. I want to tear this man apart, but there’s the other thing. Something managed to do what I was supposed to do. What I’ve been wanting to do for so long. Break Helios. There’s a new Apex Hero or Villain out there, which means I’ve got a new target. I can’t help but grin, showing my fangs to Helios.
“Now, tell me all about who kicked the shit out of you. Because that’s my job.”
|
(WP) An Unexpected Visitor
The rain pounds the pavement outside, and just before a clap of thunder booms, I hear a knock on the door.
When I open the door, I see my archnemsis, leaning against the doorjamb, shivering violently, her hair sticking to her skull, teeth chattering.
Before I can ask what’s she’s going here, she says, over the roar of the rain, “I’m sorry. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, you see.”
I pull her inside and close the door.
“Why don’t you go take a shower?” I ask. “I can get you some clothes.” Never have I been so thankful for the fact that I live alone before now. “Here, let me show you where it is.”
She follows me up the stairs, and I try not to pay any mind that she’s dripping all over the carpet.
“Do you need help getting your clothes off?” She shakes her head and I close the door; I don’t dare leave until I hear the slurp of clothes disattaching from skin, until I hear the water beginning to run.
I go to my room and pick out a thick pair of dark leggings, lined with sherpa, and a gray sweater. All the while, my mind races. What brought her here, to my house? We’ve been rivals our entire lives, but I couldn’t just leave her there, out in the rain.
Once I get the clothes gathered, I put them in the bathroom, making sure to keep my eyes lowered.
“I can make us some dinner, if you’d like. But no rush, take your time.”
Before she can answer, I leave, heading down to the kitchen. I start making onion soup, the menial task of chopping doing nothing to quiet my anxious mind. My new companion doesn’t come downstairs until I set some cheese toasts in the oven, the soup bubbling away on the stove.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” I ask, watching as she sits at the island, hands folded. Her face is flushed from the shower, and I notice bruises around her neck, violet and finger-shaped.
“My partner and I got into a fight and I didn’t know where else to go,” She says, still refusing to look at me. “She… She was cheating on me. We tried to talk about it, but it didn’t go well.”
I nod, despite the questions that form in my mind. I don’t want to push her any more.
“Would you like something to eat? French onion soup and some cheese toast. It’s not much, but I imagine after being in the rain so long, you could use something hot.”
She nods mutely, and I quickly ladle some of the soup in a bowl, topping it with the toast. I hand her a spoon, and her voice is so quiet, I almost miss it.
“Thank you.”
“If you need to stay for a couple of days, I could make up the couch for you.”
“Really? You don’t need to do that.”
“If your fight was as heated as you say it was, both you and your partner need a break.”
“I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“For God’s sake, Emma, just let me help you!”
The words fly out of me, unbidden, and her eyes grow wide, but she nods, dipping her spoon in her soup.
“Thank you, Heather.”
\*\*
| 2022-06-29T09:55:57 | 2022-06-29T09:22:19 | 484 | 29 |
[WP] The alien invasion is going unbelievably poorly for the technologically advanced aggressors, to the surprise of many. You, a retired military tactician, are trying to explain how this is actually pretty logical all things considered.
|
"Deception."
"What?" Arnold looked up from the alien assault rifle he was taking apart.
"They don't understand deception. At all. It's not that they don't lie to each other. They literally can't." I was working on a power system pulled out of one of their wormhole generators. The generator it came from was the size of a small roundabout. The power system was backpack sized. It generated enough power to supply California with surplus.
"Oh, because of the mind reading?"
"Yeah. Remember when they showed up? Just stared at our people for a minute. Looked confused as hell even when we spoke to them? They can hear, but that doesn't seem to connect to the language center of their brains. Instead they have Telepathy, but it only works on their brains. And the wildlife on their homeworld. Doesn't work on us."
"Yeah I remember all that."
"They only responded once we gave them documents. They understand documents well enough, and certainly understand every written language on Earth."
"But they absolutely demolished us at first."
"Sure. They showed up. Established communication, and an hour later they give us a written declaration of war. See, they have wars enough in their history. But the wars are all orderly, honorable, if violent, affairs. They have a whole subspecies, like ant castes, bred specifically for war. But no deception. So each side knows what's going to happen. Hell they even offered us ceremonial suicide methods, thinking we would just kill ourselves rather than put them through a war."
"Huh. Must've been surprised as hell when we all hid, then." I saw the smirk on Arnold's face.
"Yep. Assumed we'd all suicided. Hell, they even had their warrior caste commit suicide. No longer needed as a display of force, and no use for them back home. That's how any lopsided conflict happens on their worlds. So when the warriors were all dead, and just the civilians were left, we all came out and captured every single last one of them. Oddly enough, they completely understand the idea of hostages and negotiation. They even congratulated us for our military success. They are pretty keen to practice this 'deception' tactic though."
"Ah. Good thing we're reverse engineering their tech."
"By the time they figure out how to play hide and seek, we'll be ready to fight them if they try us again. But it's also good their engineers consider us to be their new leaders. It's a caste or subspecies thing or something. Ask Juma, she's the biologist."
|
"Well its obvious. They overestimated us, they shot too high, hit too hard!" I throw my hands in the air, laughing. "We launched a single missile in their direction, and they blasted it to pieces before it even reached them. Our top scanners noticed 417 thousand shots fired at the missile. Mathematically, they can't carry more than 100 million shots and still hold enough men to run the ship. We sent them a ship with one man holding a basic rifle, and they shot an energy cannon that could have powered the entire planet for months, and some of our solar panels ended up with so much energy that they overheated."
"Well, can't they just bring more supplies?" The reporter held the microphone to my face again.
"Space is infinite. By the time they get anything over here we will all be dead, and our great great grandchildren will be doing the same thing as us. Its that simple, the fools are so far away that our observation of their planet doesn't have civilisation. While that means they travel faster than light, it also means that they are billions of lightyears away. They can't call backup, it would take millenia."
"Well what about the ship? Can't they just crash land into the planet and eradicate us all?"
"Another of their problems is that they have been so reliant on technology that they have forgotten manual methods. That one man ship I was talking about? He was part of a fleet, and a few of the ships crashed into theirs. The last recording I had from one man was that they had shot his gun away, but they weren't firing at him any more, so that brave bastard sent his ship straight into the hull of the DISCIPLE ship. They have been leaking ammunition for days, and they don't even know why!"
They stop recording, and the reporter shakesmy hand. "Wow, how do you know all of this information sir? You seem to have a lot of knowledge about their internal structure!"
"Because every word I just spoke was a bunch of shite, and now the whole world thinks we are fools" I pull out my solar powered blaster, and incinerate the woman's head, sprinting to the biggest building I can find, in an attempt to assassinate the leader. "Woah" I say, freezing in shock. "Why are all the buildings so tall here? How am I meant to find a leader now!?"
| 2022-04-04T12:58:55 | 2022-04-04T12:55:01 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP...
|
My Master was one of the most powerful. Usually, hunters would live in seclusion and kill their victims immediately or quickly sell them to someone else. Everyone with enough EXP feared that they would get killed the moment they lower their guard. This one didn't. He lived in a palace, surrounded by his slaves. There were many attempts but noone seems to be a match for him.
From all his servants, he trusted me the most. I was nothing, certainly not a threat.
There were many people in the dining hall that night. Some kind of ball. It was a great prestige to be invited to one of those. Every hunter from across the land came here to see the great lord. One of them was just talking to my Master.
"I tell you, best wine in the entire Amarrokk."
The lord just gestured to me, visibly trying to hide his drunkenness. As I approached, a flash of panic flashed across the other man's face.
"There's no need to bother that servant, your highness. I can pour us the wine myself" he uttered.
"My master likes his slaves useful, not just uselessly standing aside." I responded with the sentence I heard so many times and grabbed the bottle.
"But..." There was a mixture of confusion, panic and a silent threat in strangers look. My master watched the whole scene with a smile. He loved it.
I poured both men a glass of the reddish drink and assumed my previous position. There's the lord and those lesser. He makes no further differences.
The rest of the evening went normally. Nothing interesting happened anymore.
As usual, the ball ended late at night. The guests were slowly dispersing when a scream of agony pierced the chatter and everything stoped. Everyone was procesing the act that was playing out before their eyes. Everything went silent. My master writhed in pain.
I stood paralyzed. No, it can't be happening!
The high lord, slayer of thousands was dying. He let out his last gasp and fell to the floor.
The hall remained motionless for a while, but then it began. Chaos, slaughter. There was someone amidst the crowd who wielded the lords power and you could have it all for yourself, if you could find and kill the man.
My EXP bar went crazy.
Edit: Grammar fixes
Edit: More grammar fixes
|
The rain outside is tapping on the window. You're sitting on the couch watching a movie on the TV. It's an action movie about an arms dealer in the Middle East. Its depiction of the war was fairly accurate but the main characters are unconvincing.
The movie reminds you of the war you've fought five years ago--has it really been that long? You remember your combat buddies. The faces of the ones that fell are coming back quite vividly. Many bad memories, but it did good things for your EXP rank. Life is comfortable because of your sacrifices.
The army has been good for you. Taught you some discipline. You weren't always such a stand up citizen. As a matter of fact.. You were a pretty bad bully when you were younger. There was this one kid. He was so helpless and every time he felt bad he just kept munching away at his candy bars. Thinking back at that time makes you angry. That kid was so annoying but the things you did to him were inexcusable. The army managed to set you straight, and war was a good way to get EXP.
You try to shake the images of war out of your mind by focusing on the film as you feel a hot tingling in the back of your head. It's been five years since you've felt this synthetic endorphin rush. The army implant has been dormant for so long. The unforgettable feeling takes hold of your body. You're strong, competent. You've done something great and remarkable and your peers are celebrating your existence. You chug your beer and let out a euphoric roar.
It's only when the rush subsided that you wonder what just happened. That was the rush of a kill. The combat terminal! You need to know who died and how. You throw the junk that has gathered on your army trunk on the floor. The tablet starts up with a ~plink~.. Thank God there's still some power in it. You navigate to your kill feed as you see a name you haven't seen in 20 years.
+1.500 Jeffrey Nickelson, suicide
It's that loser from high school: Fat Jeff. Shit..
| 2017-05-15T09:43:00 | 2017-05-15T09:06:47 | 426 | 143 |
[WP] Two astronauts admire the view of Earth from the moon. After being given a nod of approval, one astronaut presses a button and the planet explodes.
|
The craft they sat in was dark, covered in shadows and blackness as they waited. The two astronauts sung a tune together, a duet, as the planet they circled turned in its orbit. Shadows slowly dispersed, rays of light radiating in through dirty, dusted windows.
The sun crested the pale blue planet below, a beautiful array of yellows and oranges bathing the starless void that was space. The starcraft, its two passengers, reveled in the sight as light gave way to beauty. The cosmos was revealed.
The planet below seemingly shimmered and glowed, colors seeping across the clouds and surface. Every valley, every peak, every creature, was bathed in light, uniting them. The sun revealed a picturesque world of vast oceans, ranging forests, and stunning deserts. Where the sun did not touch, auroras formed, dancing above the clouds, filling another piece of lightless space.
"Sure is lovely." The first astronaut spoke dryly.
"Yep." His companion responded, equally monotonous.
A green bulb flashed above them, alerting them to an incoming transmission. Their attention turned to the video panel sealed into their flight console. It shuttered open with a hiss, static resounding through the small cockpit. Their captain, back on a planet some seven or eight lightyears away, appeared.
"Evening, gentleman." The pair nodded with respect. "You have the go ahead."
Grins spread across their faces. They looked to each other, playing a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would press the big red button. The second astronaut won out, glee written upon his face.
His hand came up and mightily smacked down, a resounding thud as the button pressed. The planet exploded just as quickly as they blinked. A wave of debris and energy traveled through the solar system, shaking their ship within moments of the explosion. Debris knocked against their shields, harmlessly teetering off into space.
"Congratulations, gentlemen! With the removal of STE-129, we can begin with the trans-galactic highway! You've made history."
The pair blinked.
"Uh, sir, STE-129 is five lightyears away at forty degrees. You gave us the coordinates to..." The first astronaut, the one who lost, spoke up. He looked to another panel, scrolling through a list of names and coordinates till he found the right one. "uh, Earth, sir. Odd name."
The captain paled. "Congratulations, gentlemen! You blew up a galactic national park! We'll be handing in our resignation forms later today, it seems."
|
There was a certain sense of wonder that came innately from looking upon the Earth from this high up. The birthplace of all Humanity, countless wars have been fought over scraps of land on its surface, endless tales of love, tragedy and growth danced upon its surface for untold ages. It was the cradle of life, the most important thing in human history bar none...
It was a dead world cursed beyond recognition.
Even from here the horrible purple scars dancing across the continents were visible, each a mighty chasm leading towards an abyss beyond comprehension. Across the oceans movement could be seen through even the most basic of telescopes, leviathans the size of nations swimming in unknown depths beneath the tainted seas. The ultimate product of Mankind's hubris, the price for untold amounts of reckless sins, the world was a lost cause.
The first man, Hal Armstrong, looked towards his partner and then looked towards an unassuming grey device he held in his hand. The other man, Lucas, looked back towards him and gave a silent, solemn, nod. Words were not said but they both knew the meaning of that small nod. Centuries ago a man bearing his surname walked upon the surface of the moon, the first man to set foot on this rock, now he was to become the last. The button felt heavy, despite the fact it did not even weigh all that much even under higher gravity the thing was a terrible thing to hold. The press of the button took but an instant, but an eternity passed during that time.
The Earth lit aflame, consumed with nuclear fire. Purple veins lit into incandescent flames and leviathans writhed in the boiling seas undoubtably each movement creating earthquakes and tsunamis on magnitudes unimaginable in the days before the Fall. For a brief moment the Earth lit like a second sun and the two watching the scene could almost hear a scream, an unimaginable piercing ring that somehow traversed the vaccuum between the burning world and its satellite, before silence returned. Tears were shed, the remnants of Humanity mourned the loss of their homeworld, the most important thing in all of Human history, and then they moved on. This place was dead, there was no point in remaining any longer, nothing of value remained here except a reminder of the mistakes of the past.
If only they had stayed...
Maybe then they would have seen a purple vein emerge on the charred surface and spit out a swarm of city sized monsters into the void of deep space...
| 2021-11-05T15:37:20 | 2021-11-05T15:28:12 | 55 | 13 |
[WP] As a person goes through his life, he is given three options at the end of each day, continue, restart day, or restart life. He has just lived through the worst day of his life.
|
What if you could restart your life, restart your day, or continue?
While his tears never surfaced, the utter despair melted away his soul. Time stopped. Fractured and broken, his heart burned. Everything he knew and everything he thought he knew had disappeared in a heartbeat. Words from others fell deafly on him. He fell to his knees, pushing his head into the ground, hiding himself from the world.
What do you do when everything suddenly disappears? How do you move forward, knowing that nothing beyond soul-crushing defeat and vast emptiness waits?
As he considered ending his own existence, those three options appeared before hallowed and empty eyes. Restart life, restart day, or continue.
Really?
To even consider for a moment that any day could merely be erased denies existence.
Some experience far more than others, have their character and core fully exposed to all elements. They are challenged beyond their calling, tempt fate, or succumb to methods and chemicals to overcome. To merely restart the day would bring such amazing joy – yet, denies existence. Such cold reality tears apart the thin weaves of human fabric.
The second option, restarting life, would rob him of all he’s experienced. While the worst day one could ever experience may have just occurred – he realized that life wasn’t worth losing everything he could have gained.
What was lost – it was his everything.
He thought about it.
But he already decided.
There is no restarting. Not now, not ever. Most never experienced the utter joy and amazing love that was shared with others, becoming so intertwined into others lives to completely lose sense of self. Most would never have to live through the sorrow.
While he lost everything else, he found one single ounce of strength to open his eyes and continue.
|
Inevitable. We all knew it was. My wife, our doctor, and our in-laws crowded around the hospital bed and we gazed silently at my newborn daughter.
A smear of dark brown hair swirled around her tiny head, cradled in Lucille's arms. Our baby's warm chocolate eyes would never see us. Her unisex, hospital-issued beanie crowned her head delicately.
Slowly smoothing the bib we bought her months ago, my wife's tears stained Dawn's colorless cheek, tinier than the palm of my hand. The bib held the words, "I love my mommy" in a pale pink. I glanced over at Dawn's birth and death certificates, waiting to be signed in a shaky scrawl of handwriting.
Choking back a sob, I walked over to the bathroom and looked at the clock along the wall. Twelve o'clock. Midnight has come.
In the reflection of the mirror, bright glowing words appeared above me.
"CONTINUE, RESTART DAY, RESTART LIFE."
In a cracking whisper I couldn't help but ask. "Restart life?"
In the top corner, a question glowed.
"CANCEL OR CONFIRM?"
I closed my eyes. "Restart hers. Anything to restart hers."
"ACCESS DENIED" glared out at me in a stark red.
As my tears escaped, as my heart filled with stones, I cast my hand along "CONTINUE."
I hesitated. Instead, I selected "RESTART DAY." The confirm box appeared once again, but this time I was sure.
"Anything for another day to see Dawn." I told the glowing letters.
| 2014-07-17T19:17:02 | 2014-07-17T19:07:35 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] Start and finish your story with the exact same line but, by the time you reach the end of the story, the line has a drastically different tone.
|
"Come on," he said. "Who doesn't like bacon?"
Sam looked up at him and grinned. "C'mon Dad... you know I'm usually the first one down when I smell one of your fry ups... I'm just not- I dunno... I'm just- you get it Dad, right?"
Jonathan Dubrowski smiled at his son, his eyes crinkling like they always did whenever he was amused. Like they always did whenever they spoke. Sam was special. His favourite. Oh, they disappeared as quickly as they came, but not Sam. No. Sam had stuck by him, through thick and thin. Hell and high water. Sam, Sam was special...
Sam knew he wasn't the first. Probably wasn't the last either. But he felt a connection. It was real. All his life, in and out of foster homes. Like he was stuck on some hellish carousel. Like he was the piece of sushi that was forever doomed to a life on the conveyor belt, toyed around with and gently returned for the next picky customer. But Jonathan was the first one he'd ever loved, and felt loved by. The first one he'd ever called "Dad."
Alas, adolescence reared its ugly head, and adulthood hit him like a freight train. His cherubic face became lean, his dimples replaced with the early stages of stubble. Jonathan was enraged. Sam was supposed to be special. Sam was supposed to be... to stay... young. He grimaced, his face twisting into a sneer. They were all the same. They always grew up. Forgot him. The love he gave them.
Early one wintry morning, Sam woke up to a feeling of immense agony and the smell of frying. He tried to move, but his legs would not allow him. He tried to scream, but his voice failed him. The hulking figure of his father, gripping a scalpel, filled his vision, and then, he could no longer see...
Jonathan Dubrowski smiled at his son, his eyes crinkling like they always did whenever he was amused. Like they always did whenever they spoke. Alex was special. His favourite. Oh, they disappeared as quickly as they came, but not Alex. No. Alex had stuck by him, through thick and thin. Hell and high water. Alex, Alex was special...
*"Come on," he said. "Who doesn't like bacon?"*
(Feedback always appreciated!)
Feel free to check out my sub for more meh stories!
r/samfoxstories
|
When I was fifteen, my dog died. It was a sad day. There was a funeral and everything. My parents called the school and they got me the day off. I was a mess. I didn’t know what to do.
That dog had been given to me when I first got home from the hospital. My first birthday present, I guess. My parents just called him dog, because they wanted his real name to be my choice. So when I was three, I named him Mr. Stuff. He seemed like my guardian angel. He kept me from falling over when I first learned to walk, nipped at my ankles when I tried to touch a hot stove once.
He kept that behavior up for his whole life. Always protecting. My parents told me most of what he prevented in my younger days, since I couldn’t remember.
“One time, your mother dropped a glass, and you picked up a piece of it and started waddling around, but Mr. Stuff wrangled you back into safe territory and knocked the glass from your hand,” my dad said.
“Once, rats chewed through the cord of the toaster oven, and Mr. Stuff kept you from touching it.”
“One time,” my mother chimed in, “Mr. Stuff had a bone that he’d chewed until it broke, and you picked up a shard to show it to me. He took it right back from you and buried it.” She chuckled. “That might’ve been a regular dog thing, though.”
Well, it wasn’t. Mr. Stuff was never protecting me. I remember my real parents. At least, enough to know that these people weren’t them. As a child, I’d tried to get away. Tried to slit the woman’s Achilles’ tendons, tried to electrocute my father. I was willing to do anything to get out of that house. But that damn dog always sidelined me. He sniffed out the gun I’d stolen, dropped it at my captors’ feet. He swallowed my lockpicks, hid my knife, and barked like crazy every time I tried to sneak out through the window in the middle of the night.
My captors thought I was just a troubled kid. They thought I was too young when they took me, that I couldn’t possibly know who they were—or weren’t, I should say.
That fucking dog ruined every attempt I ever made to get away. Alas, all bad things must come to an end.
When I was fifteen, my dog died.
| 2018-02-10T14:51:47 | 2018-02-10T14:39:18 | 59 | 41 |
[WP] As someone is time travelling and changing the past, you have to live in a constantly changing present.
Someone is time travelling and changing past events. You, a completely normal person living in the present, have to deal with constant alterations of your life.
|
As a black man in America life is hard for me. What makes it harder is when some time travelling motherfucker decides to change the outcome of the civil war.
One day I'm minding my own business staring at the chemicals in lab at the science class on the third floor of Georgia State University and all of the sudden I realize I am outside wearing a pair of overalls and a straw hat. Thankful I had the kronus implant that kept my mental state since time travel was discovered three years ago. I knew that if I just waited someone would fix things.
Oh shit, that drone is coming my way.
"You have not brought in the horses, Moses." A raspy electronic voice crackled through the tiny speaker, it's words chopped as they came through the quadracopter's blades.
The most frustrating thing about the time travellers was dealing with the name changes, wait I take that back, the most frustrating thing was the languages. This time I was lucky enough to have an English speaking timeline.
"Ouch!"
"If you fail to comply the voltage will increase."
I began walking towards the barn as I did I could feel the ground disappear and I was back looking at the Bunsen burner. Everyone in the class looked at me and I realized they were speaking French. One of the side effects of my device is that my memories stayed intact which was helpful when I found myself in the new CSA but not when the French became the dominant power in America. I never bothered to learn the language and the people here don't know English.
I check for a phone. It is there and this time it is an Android. I find my way to the appropriate search engine and begin typing " I am a time travelling refuge. I do not speak French."
The phone translates and as I am about to attempt to pronounce it, I realize I am looking up at the night sky. I am dressed in almost nothing. I recognize this place. I guess I'm back at "my" village. You learn to adjust to having multiple lives. It is somewhat chaotic. On the timelines when you don't exist you simply ... What was I saying?
I look around and I am inside a cell. Correction I am guarding a cell. I know this timeline. I look at the inmates. As I pick out one of the prisoners I ask him what he thinks of the name "Moses" he looks dumbfounded, but I know better. He fades away and I am looking at the stars again.
I feel weightless. This is one of my favorite timelines. I'm an astronaut here. I look down at the planet and... Motherfucking overalls again.
|
I feel the ripples of him moving, two steps behind me, and I close my eyes and hope that this time it doesn't hurt.
Eddie's always lived in the past. He likes it there, he says. It suits him. The past is his mother's apple pies and her gushing over the photos he'd taken. The past is his dad grinning as he comes through the door. The past is me and him, he says, the two of us against the world, and I want to bash my head against the walls and scream that I'm still here with him.
I live in the present. It's like being a fish between four glass walls. There was some intricate journey that led to you being here, but none of that matters anymore, because this is your entire world now. It's Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, his ribs showing, an afterimage of his past self. The bitch passed me over for the promotion, he says, and he has the moment trapped between his teeth, gnawing it down until there's nothing left of it but gristle. Just shouldn't've made that joke, he says, figured she doesn't have a sense of humor.
I try to touch him, try to put my lips against his ear, but the moment shifts and he's gone. I've lived this out a hundred times, the moment fracturing and multiply through glass. There's always something he's done wrong, some moment he needs to fix. Something that he could get right this time, he swears, if only he just got one more chance. The moment multiplies, weigh me down. I lie down next to him and that one night lasts forever.
The past is malleable, he tells me, grabs my hands and pulls them to his chest. We all do it, he says, selective memories, a little editing here and there. Those were the best times of our lives, because of everything we've forgotten.
There are gaps in my memory now, open bleeding abscesses. There's a moment when we were dating that doesn't exist anymore, of the money in his pockets coming up short and his face going red. I think that was the first time that the pull in my heart made me realize that I loved him. I try to scream, I try to make him look at me, but there's a part missing from my brain and I can't find the words to say.
I feel the ripples of him moving, two steps behind me, and I close my eyes and hope that this time it doesn't hurt.
| 2016-05-18T07:21:23 | 2016-05-18T06:20:18 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
A skinny man stands at a podium in front of hundreds of representatives from different countries. Brushing the long dreaded hair from his face revealing his bloodshot eyes.
"uhhhh Everyone, this is uhhhh Greg Brooks" says President Obama "it seems that he has stopped Daesh from their antics and quelled most of the major issues in the Middle East."
Brooks had just smoked out the entirety of the Middle East with what he called the "danks." How he was able to get over 1,000 pounds of marijuana to the Middle East from New Zealand has been a point of controversy. Many officials are still trying to decide whether to give him a medal or a sentence.
"Give him the death sentence!" bellows the Saudi representative "cut off his legs! Stone him to death!"
"Suh dude, maybe you need a hit of this shit" Brooks giggles as if his comment had any comedic merit.
Everyone seems to be a little less than satisfied about the whole thing. Not only were the best minds in the world unable to stop every issue in the Middle East, it was a douchebag wanna be Jamaican stoner who did it. In the most stoner of fashions no less, he managed to get every single person in a 2,000 mile radius of the epicenter absolutely baked. Hash production in the Middle East went up by %4,000. The (almost) international legalization of the product after this event helped the economy of these countries sky rocket. All because of the monster piles of marijuana he lit on fire.
The problem is over but still, fuck Greg.
|
"Sirs," said the man who burst into the room,
"What, can't you see we are doing important work," said the representative of the USA as he and his colleagues took another shot. They were watching something on the television.
"Well, sir, ISIS has surrendered, unconditionally."
Everyone in the room said, unanimously, "What?"
"ISIS-"
"We heard you the first time, why?" said the representative of Great Britain.
"My strategy of bombing them must have worked." said the representative of the USA.
"Ya, zat vil be zhe day," said the representative of Germany.
"Shut up,"
"Actually, sir, it was Sealand."
"Sea what?"
"Sealand, it is close to my country. Some nut went on an abandoned platform and declared himself king."
"Ya, but what could zeeland do?"
"Well, they dropped an atomic bomb on Syria."
"They what!" was the unanimous response.
"How did they get a nuke?" asked the representative of the USA. "I didn't sell them one," he muttered under his breath.
"Well, it seems like North Korea sold them. Remember last week when they announced, and I quote: 'We have produced so many nuclear weapons for our glorious country, anyone can come and buy them.' Intelligence reports that Sealand bought this in exchange for, a hairclip and a rake. By the way, Sealand wants a reward for what they have 'accomplished.'"
"What do zhey want?"
"They want to be recognised as a country."
| 2016-01-29T10:11:13 | 2016-01-29T09:04:29 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Tell me a horror story in five sentences.
|
I forced myself to take shallow breaths, staying as still as I could under the bed. There were creatures in the bedroom, stalking around, checking in the cupboard, making low growls and high screeches and gutteral noises. As the feet approached the bed and one of the creatures climbed onto it, the pounding of my heart and the rumbling of my stomach seemed so loud that I feared they might give me away. Finally, after an agonisingly long time, I heard steps leaving the room, the lights being switched off, the door closing, and silence... I emerged from beneath the bed, hungry for my meal laying upon it.
|
[Example, though it isn't good.]
He woke with a start, the baby screaming again.
He walked sluggishly towards her crib, where he found her, unhappy.
He picked her up, rocking her gently to calm her as he walked towards his back yard.
As her crying settled, he set her down carefully and reached for a shovel.
It had been a year since she passed, and he was getting tired of having to bury her each night.
| 2018-06-30T05:45:36 | 2018-06-30T05:18:18 | 253 | 85 |
[WP] Humans are the least intelligent species on Earth. The entire animal kingdom plays along out of pity for our idiocy.
|
"Awwww, what a good pupper you are!!!" Alex cooed to Rosey. "Aren't you the sweetest thing I've ever seen? What a good girl! Who's a good girl?"
When Alex had first picked Rosey from her litter, she had already heard from Mother at how unintelligent humans were. Always praising dogs and cats for doing very little and operating under the delusion that humans had domesticated dogs. While humans were correct in the assumption that cats domesticated themselves, humans were oh so incorrect thinking that they had domesticated dogs. No. According to Mother, their earliest ancestors had domesticated themselves following the same logic as cats - humans' opposable thumbs were a glorious product of evolution that made life so much easier for their ancestors.
But, it was also nice getting re-affirmation that she was a good girl. Praise always did feel better coming from an external source, even if it was from one of the least intelligent species.
Rosie barked obligingly before pawing at her human's legs. Really, humans were useful for so many things, praise, and ohhh... That head scratch sure hit the spot. Man, opposable thumbs sure were handy.
|
The clock finally struck 10am and the massive archway gates were slowly pulled open with the sound of a grinding mechanism. Flocks of people that were standing in line flooded through the gates, maps in hand, snacks ready and cameras around their necks. Humans laughed and cheered as they aimlessly moved throughout the enclosure.
They moved with no particular pattern as sounds of shutters echoed throughout the area. They moved from checkpoint to checkpoint and gazed at what they thought to be wondrous sights.
As the crowds eventually reached section D of the enclosure, the scientists looked up from their workplaces and prepared themselves.
"Ready for yet another day of research?" Said Professor Monica Key to her associate.
"Yes of course Professor Monica Key" replied the associate.
"Hmm I hope we can finally try and make sense of these primitive creatures. Be on the lookout for anything interesting and don't give our disguise away. Oh and one more thing, call me Mon. Mon Key. "
The humans genuinely thought they were visiting what they call a "zoo".
| 2017-10-22T02:51:15 | 2017-10-22T01:58:00 | 595 | 95 |
[WP] You seem to really be hitting off with a new friend. In the course of casual conversation, a sense of unease begins to creep in as you slowly realized that the two of you share all the same opinions. Every. Single. One.
|
I remember how we met casually, on the train. I walked in a nearly empty car and saw you sitting by a corner, reading a book. I smiled and sat beside you, nudging you to show how I had the exact same book in my own bag.
You took a good look at me, then laughed. For the next 15 minutes, we talked about punishment, redemption, dreams, aspirations. I enjoyed your company, and immediately thought of you as my best friend.
I was too shy to ask for your number. A little sad, I was about to say goodbye when the train got to my stop, but we stood up at the same time. You grinned at me, motioned for me to follow, and walked out. So I did.
We ended up in a coffee shop just outside the train station. We talked some more. You agreed with everything I said. I agreed with everything you said. It was amazing to have that kind of connection with someone.
It was getting late. We didn't want to go, but the baristas were starting to close the bar. I looked at you and you winked. You lived just 2 blocks down, you said. I lived 2 blocks up, I whispered.
We ended up at your place. Something felt odd. It looked just like my apartment, even the front door. We walked up the stairs to Room 204, a number familiar to me, familiar to me.
You opened the door and led me inside. You closed the door on my thoughts and held me close. I placed my arms around you, and you gently pressed your lips to mine. I closed my eyes.
When I open them again, I am back in the center. You are nowhere to be found and only the white walls stare back at me. I look down to see a book on my lap.
Then I remember. I remember you. The book. The train. The coffee shop. Room 204. You.
The door opens, and my eyes widen as I see you walk in. Two men in black suits come in after you. You look tired, and you have cuts and bruises all over. I stand up to greet you, and the book falls from my lap. You shake your head. I sit back down.
One of the men speaks. "Z-204, for falling in love with your Reference, you have broken rule 8-67. The sentence is immediate death."
You try to go to me, but the other man holds on to your shoulder. You start sobbing.
The one who spoke takes out a small silver gun and aims it at my head. I do not resist, and merely look at you sadly. You cry louder.
He pulls the trigger and mutters, "Stupid clone."
And I remember no more.
EDIT: Thank you for reading, kind stranger! If you want more, [part 2 is over here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6hxep2/comment/dj2jhi4?st=J42XPA2E&sh=821bd5cd)
|
He put his hand on my knee, before his rough palm slowly crawled up my thigh.
The cold from his skin sent a shock through my body, and I reflexively jerked it away. With a quick glance to the clock on the wall, I noticed two hours had passed since we started talking, but it was only now that I felt supremely uncomfortable.
"Hey, I think I better get going, actually," I said quickly, pulling my skirt down to cover my knees. "It's nice to meet you...uh..."
"It's Chris," he said, quickly finishing my sentence before standing up too. "Where are you going? I thought we were having a good time!"
I shot another quick glance to the barista.
I must have worn a certain look on my face, because she immediately stopped wiping the counter, her smile immediately falling from her face and her gaze focused sternly on me like a hawk. "Y-yeah," I stammered, trying to put myself together, while looking at the floor. "I just realized...I had something to do..."
"Wait, hold on," he interrupted, stepping into my path. "Don't I get at least get a kiss before you leave?"
"Look," I said, trying to side step him the other way as I brought up one hand to push him aside "I don't feel comfor--"
His hand shot up to grabbed my wrist and pulled me in front of him. "Now, hold on, little lady," he said in an angry whisper, speaking intensely through his teeth. "Where are you going?"
"Hey! **Hey!**" the barista shouted from behind the counter, slamming her cloth down on the counter with one hand and pointing a pistol at him with the other. Her voice was filled with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub. "Is there a problem?"
Without a look back, he stood there for what felt like minutes, just staring me down, before finally tossing my hand aside like a cigarette. "No, there's no problem. Have a good day," he said, stepping aside, but I could tell he didn't mean it.
I never took my eyes off him once (as he didn't me), always making sure to never turn my back on him. Once I reached the door, I bolted for my bike, unlocked it, and rode as quickly as I could back home.
*Of course it was too good to be true,* I found myself thinking. *He just wanted to...*
Just the thought of him made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and a chill down my spine.
I didn't even bother locking up my bike -- I unlocked my door and slammed it shut behind me. Pressing my back up against it, I slid all the way down, my heart pounding and my breaths shallow and rapid, but it came from more than from just biking.
*Of course it was too good to be true...*
| 2017-06-18T01:56:35 | 2017-06-17T21:34:05 | 1,173 | 255 |
[WP] As it turns out, aliens all have aphantasia. This makes Humans the only species capable of imagining images in their heads. This greatly confuses alien telepaths, who report seeing “constantly shifting landscapes of alternate realities” when peering into human minds
|
"Remarkable," Zh'rf whispered inwardly, as they studied their instruments. "Come. Notice this, Grh'll."
Zh'rf sensed movement and a rising interest from their shipmate, as Grh'll settled their mass beside Zh'rf.
A few moments of focus passed silently between the xenobiologists as Grh'll parsed the live data feed streaming from the water-covered planet below.
"Remarkable." Grh'll concluded. "This species has evolved functional quantum processors from *protein*. They can shift their perspective between spatial dimensions without the need of an external processor."
Zh'rf silently acknowledged the assessment.
The two continued studying the data stream in silence.
"Odd," Grh'll mulled. "The information they have encoded in their electromagnetic emanations suggests they believe their lives to be entirely linear in nature."
Zh'rf bristled, "Do they not understand the physical nature of reality? How is it possible that creatures who can selectively move their perceptions fluidly between 5th dimensional space are unaware of their ability to do so?"
"They *are* low-band sensory animals," Grh'll proposed.
Zh'rf considered for a moment. It was logical. Creatures who perceived the universe primarily through a small subset of vibrations would necessarily have a limited scope of perception. "Fair," they concluded.
"Regardless." Grh'll stated. "We should report this. Cross-discipline study seems warranted."
"Agreed," Zh'rf affirmed. "Shall we take a sample as evidence?"
"Yes. That would be prudent." Grh'll approved.
Grh'll moved their mass back towards the research vessel's command interface and quickly targeted a particularly active quantum signature for temporary extract protocol.
At Grh'll's command, the research vessel folded 3rd dimensional space, warping the targeted specimen into the containment facility.
With the specimen secured the two Xenobiologists returned home.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Zh'rf's people learned much in the intervening passage of time. Zh'rf's prediction--based on the quantum wavelength collapse patterns Zh'rf and Grh'll had perceived above the water-covered planet--proved true. The subject's "brain", as the specimen itself had termed it, was indeed a remarkably efficient quantum processing unit, albeit unorthodox in construction. Those of more technically focused disciplines had found--through admittedly embarrassing trial and error--how to best interface with the specimen's "brain". What they found was nothing short of perplexing.
This species, "homo sapien" they termed themselves, was not as unperceptive as Zh'rf and Grh'll had first postulated. They merely did not understand their perception of space outside of the 3rd dimension. Their "brain", very strangely, contained a thin module they termed a "claustrum" which worked to filter all sensory information--including input received from 4th, 5th, and higher dimensional space--in a way optimized for navigating the 3rd dimension.
As a result, to them, as to Zh'rf's species, life seemed a straight line. But unlike Zh'rf's species "homo sapiens" possessed the unique ability to not only view multi-dimensional information--through modeling processes they term "inspiration" and "imagination" which displayed information internally as a 3rd dimensional projection--but to literally shift their attention and perception between timelines, *without* using an external interface. Naturally, the "claustrum" selected for timelines that on immediate observation did not disagree with existing protein markers--which the specimen internally refers to as "memory".
These findings suggested that the primary perception of this species would inherently opt for a timeline in which their lives continued entirely as expected. What this meant, was that--theoretically--as far as the specimen was concerned, they had never been collected at all. Of course, some physicists proposed that a handful of specimens may perceive the collection process and pursuant experiments as a "dream" or "hallucination" and that there may not be a reasonable point along the 4th dimension that allows for continuity of perception, which would obviously result in perceived loss of time. But this was just theory, no one knew for certain.
Not yet, anyways.
Other research vessels had already begun returning to the planet to collect more samples to verify findings and to perform further experiments. Zh'rf themselves had just received an assignment indicating they and Grh'll, alongside a pair of Xenoanthropologists, were to return for continued observation of the planet.
But something bothered Zh'rf.
Zh'rf knew, as all their kind did, that the universe existed within a self-simulating strange loop. Every moment perceived was itself the totality of existence. Zh'rf existed because perception itself demanded it to be so.
But this species. They perceived, within their minds, entire timelines, entire universes unto themselves.
Zh'rf wondered: "What happens to these universes when these marvelous creatures stop paying attention? When they forget the worlds and the individuals they created through their collective focus?"
Zh'rf pondered this for a long time.
And then the model reached its end.
|
This is gonna be a long read. Sit back and enjoy.
​
*Translated to Language #2554 (Human Language form - American English) per your request.*
**-- Classification --**
Alien Species Report #1751
Supervised by Junior Researcher Xipt'an Xi'ta. *Supervisor note - My first time writing an alien species report, and I think I nailed it!*
Perceptibility: Class XIV - Visible, Tangible
Sentience: Variant 3 - Sapient
Information about alien life: Class 2B - Unaware about aliens, but aware that their existence is possible
\[UNTRANSLATABLE\] - Plausible, but \[UNTRANSLATABLE\]. *Supervisor note - You wouldn't get it anyways. I don't get it too. Why would you need to \[UNTRANSLATABLE\]?*
Residence: System #11890 (Sol), Planet #25276 (Earth).
Refer to document "Species #1751 full classification" for a more detailed approach.
**-- Description --**
Species #1751, also known as humans, are a humanoid, almost fully perceptible alien species. They live on Planet #25276 "Earth". For more information on Earth or system #11890 "Sol", refer to document "System #11890 Sol, Full Classification and Description".
Humans are known for their ethnical diversity: at the time of writing, Earth is housing 195 factions each ruled by a different government. Humans are also unusually aggressive toward each other, to the point of using Type-3 Nuclear Explosives. *Supervisor note - Yeah, I know. They don't have proper spaceships or intelligence on us, "aliens", but they have Type-3 Nuclear Explosives and have proven to be not afraid to use them, Scary!*
Species #1751 are sapient, capable of thinking, conversing and \[UNTRANSLATABLE\]. *Supervisor note - They don't know that they can \[UNTRANSLATABLE\], though. That's a little funny. I don't know why. just imagining something that can't \[UNTRANSLATABLE\] is hilarious to me.*
Alpha-Xarxay Mind Tests have proven ineffective with humans, and Bohx-Delta Mind Tests have given inconsistent results. Testing with telepathy has ~~worked~~ ~~not worked~~ ~~given inconsistent results~~ ~~resulted in the tester's \[REDACTED\]~~ See Telepathy Test Log #1751-3 (Requires Level Gamma-1751 clearance).
*Opening Telepathy Test Log #1751-3 per your request.*
Supervisor: Xi'x Xor
Telepathy Provider: Xant'i Xixsa
Test Subject: Species #1751 specimen.
<The test begins.>
Xant'i Xixsa: *starting up an universal translator.*
Subject: Where am I? Help- *notices Xant'i Xixsa* Oh my goodness! Get away from me you-
Xant'i Xixsa: Do not worry. My intention is not to harm you. *Note - the universal translators don't always understand the language they were fed, that may cause confusion. Contact Xufac's Universal Translators support line if emergency help is needed.*
Subject: *calms down* Why are you, uh, speaking like that?
Xant'i Xixsa: I have not noticed any strange patterns with my American English speech. Anyway, I am here to perform a test on you.
Subject: Oh god. Will you torture me, like last time? *Note - subject may or may not have knowledge of alien species, based on their recalling of being "abducted by some creepy \[REDACTED\]".*
Xant'i Xixsa: No. I am not here to perform torturous acts, I am here to perform a test on you.
Subject: What test?
Xant'i Xixsa: I am not here to explain the test to you. I will now proceed to the test.
*Telepathy provider's eyes start glowing. After approximately 8.36 seconds, the subject's eyes start glowing as well.*
*Testing proceeds as usual. Both Xant'i Xixsa and the subject are silent. Xant'i Xixsa starts to look surprised and scared.*
*Xant'i Xixsa's eyes start \[UNTRANSLATABLE\]. The test is abruptly ended, with medical robots rushing in to apply first aid to the telepathy provider.*
No new telepathy tests are to be performed with Species #1751.
*Supervisor's note: I was there as well. I've heard Xant'i Xixsa's last words... This is the first time I;ve witnessed a death. I'm still very, uh, traumatised because of that unfortunate event.*
*Poor Xant'i's last words were "How can he see a picture without actually seeing it! Truly phenomenal, I should tell my son.". Poor Xant'i. Rest in peace, buddy.*
| 2022-03-03T11:19:30 | 2022-03-03T07:30:43 | 145 | 74 |
[WP]After a few minutes at a stoplight your partner turns to you, "Feels like this light is taking forever". "It does seem to be taking a while" you reply. A quick look at your phone and you notice the calendar says several years has past.
|
"Feels like this light is taking forever." Betty's emerald eyes broke from the stoplight and, with a turn in my direction, I could detect the slight annoyance on her expression.
"Yeah." I sighed, making sure to keep my hands on the steering wheel. "It does seem to be taking a while.
"This highway's pretty creepy." she giggled, her eyes seemed to focus on every tiny detail from the fog obscuring the outside view to the empty light we were sat in front of.
"Yeah." I said awkwardly, I was never good at small talk.
"It'll be good to get home though, right Rodger?" She asked, saving me from having to talk about the weather.
"Yeah." I sighed. "I mean the beach is nice and all, but I just wanna see Eda. Do you think she's okay?"
"Why wouldn't she be okay." Betty laughed. "She's with my mom."
"Well, yeah." I knew I'd have to tread lightly. "Your mom is just, you know, I don't think she can say no to Eda. $10 dollars says they got ice cream every day she was there"
"You're on." Betty pulled her phone out of her pocket. "I'm sure Eda hasn't had anything more then 12 pounds of-"
The smile dropped off her face.
"That's odd."
"What?" I asked.
"Look." She turned her phone in my direction.
"I've gotta keep my eyes on the road Betty." I sighed. "What if we crash?"
"Into what?!" Betty rolled her eyes. "The traffic light? The street's empty just look at my phone."
"Fine." I glanced towards her phone and now it was my turn for the smile to melt off my face.
All the time dials on her phone were flipping through numbers so fast it was impossible to read the specific numbers.
All except the years.
Every 15 or so seconds her phone claimed we were one year into the future.
I laughed. "I guess that's what happens when you drop your phone in wet sand."
Her face shifted to a pouty expression. "First of all, the sand was damp. Second of all, let's check your phone."
"I can't check my phone." I shot back. "The light'll become green any second now."
"Just give me your phone." She rolled her eyes.
"No."
"Please?"
"Fine. Reach into my pocket."
While grumbling something about men having decently sized pockets she reached in and, seconds later, her hand emerged with the phone.
She clicked the power button and, in the span of seconds, her expression shifted from confusion to genuine fear.
"Rodger." She slowly grabbed her phone out of her pocket and put them side by side. "They match."
"It's fine." I responded. "It's just a mistake at the company. Let's just get past this light and- speak of the devil."
At long last the light turned green and we were able to leave.
Fog is a strange thing. If you've ever walked through the street on a slightly foggy day then you know that the area around you will look completely normal, like nothing is amiss. You don't notice the fog until you try to look at something far away. That's when you realize that the fog is there, but it's never something you can touch. It'll always be just out of reach.
This fog was different. As we got towards the grey cloud that I had assumed was simply fog I realized that what I was seeing was more akin to smoke. It didn't move and, as we got closer, we were engulfed in it.
I tried to remain brave for Betty's sake but the truth was that I was scared and I couldn't see two feet in front of me.
"It's fine." I rationalized. "It's a straight highway, we'll just keep going forward until we get out."
"I'm scared Rodger." She murmured. "I'm really scared."
"Don't be." I tried to laugh but it came out more like a grunt. "We'll be fine."
Slowly but surely a light became visible, then a slight reflection of the outside, and then, finally, we emerged from the weird fog.
"What'd I tell you?" My eyes were focused on her. "There was never any danger to begin wi-"
I turned my eyes to see the roads were cracked and barely put together. Overgrown with roots, grass, and even trees.
The only living thing, unless you count the plants, was a hispanic malnourished boy that appeared to be sleeping by the road.
"Excuse me." Becky asked, her voice echoing through the empty abyss of our surroundings. "Do you know what's going on."
The boys eyes shot open and he glanced at us for what seemed like years. "High weh me." He muttered.
"What?" Becky asked
"Highway men." He stared at us with aw and fear.
"I'm sorry." I yelled back. "I don't know what you mean."
"HIGHWAY MEN!" He yelled, running down the street. "Everyone! Wake up! Highway men!"
from the dip of the hill rose a crowd of people led by an old lady who couldn't have been less then a hundred years old
"Who are you?" I asked, surrendering myself to confusion. "What's going on?"
"You have been through a great ordeal." The old lady said. "Fear is a natural response."
"Who are you people?!" Becky screamed, on the edge of hysterics.
"What day does your phone say it is?" The old lady asked.
Becky limply grabbed her phone and stared at the date. It had paused but it now read January 3rd, 2117.
"Then it's been 34,476 days you've been trapped behind that traffic light." Her voice was calm and polite. "You are not the first to come out of that highway."
"What?" My voice cracked. "How is that possible?!"
"Do not despair." She continued. "That highway saved you. You would've blown up had this not come to pass."
"Blown up?" Becky mouthed.
The old lady sighed and gestured towards the ruined roads. "On August 13, 2022 a nuclear war was started. It lasted, oh, a good three hours before the world became the hellscape it is today."
"There were no survivors."
"But, what about you?" Becky asked, gesturing towards the entire group that flanked her. "You survived."
"Not in a traditional sense." The old lady shrugged. "We didn't survive because of underground bunkers or resilience. Every last one of us went along that path that highway that you just left."
"That doesn't make any sense." I responded. "How did the highway protect us?"
"Hell if I know!" The old lady laughed mirthlessly. "All I know is that everyone you care about is dead."
Becky covered her mouth in horror.
"Trust me, everyone of us had looked. There's no humans, no technology, and very few animals. There's just us. The highway men."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
That was pretty fun. Feel free to tell me how to improve my writing in the comments. I'm aware it's kinda shit but I wanna make it, you know, not that. Please tell me how.
|
** Seven Years **
We had stayed out later than we had planned. The evening just slipped away from us. We had left our sleepy little town to escape for one evening out in the big city, something neither of us had been able to do since Charlie was born, but our seven anniversary was a good enough excuse escape to our old stomping grounds. Dressed in our nicest clothes we hit up the urban nightlife filled with music, drinks, and some of the finest sushi either of us had ever had. A night much overdue.
When we returned to our quite little town, still not captured by the suburban sprawl that had consumed the towns closer to the city, the night out felt like it had been a mere dream. Perhaps it was the alcohol or our exhaustion but my mind had a hard time comprehending that the town we now called home existed in the same universe as the bustling city.
We were both city people but when Charlie was born we moved out of town, mostly because we needed the grandparents to watch over her while Wren and I maintained out busy professional lives. Wren didn’t mind being back home, but for me I never really felt like I fit in. The slow pace of life here didn’t suit me.
The car slowed down as I pulled up to the first light off the interstate. Wren rolled down her window and took a breath of the country air.
“Smells like home,” she said. I looked over at her and smiled. I still couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. Wren wasn’t the kind of woman who dressed up much, but tonight in her blue dress and earrings she looked stunning. I’m sure she felt the same way about me.
“Yeah,” I said. I looked over at her,
“Let’s do another night out soon. Mom loves watching Charlie, it’ll be a good excuse for her to spend more time with her.” Her words a bit slurred.
“I agree, I miss the city.”
“Same. But it’s nice out here, nice and quite. Plus my parents are great to have around,” she looked at me. Even after seven years of marriage and four years of dating before that, I still found myself lost in her beautiful green eyes. “Remember,” she said with a hiccup, “remember when you used to find excuses to not see them. Some of them were so elaborate.”
I wish she didn’t bring that up. I was naive and we didn’t have a child. I’ve since come around to liking her parents. But she kept talking, and I let her. She was having a moment.
“My favorite excuse was when you said you hit that woman and split her in half. And then you proceeded to search for her legs while she talked non-stop with me on the phone. What a trip,” she laughed. “You never did tell me who you got to play her.”
Five years had passed since that incident and Wren still didn’t believe me. I couldn’t blame her, the whole thing felt like a dream to me. What she didn’t mention was how pissed off she was that day, how we were a hairpin trigger away a divorce. Luckily we stuck together and built a stronger relationship since then. I like to think that if something like that happened again, something out of the ordinary that once it’s over you aren’t sure if whether you had dreamt it or not, that we’d be able to stick through it. Instead of trying to convince her it was all true I said. “Yeah, I was a bit ridiculous back then.”
“I love you Todd,” she said to me with a smile.
“I love you too,” I smiled back.
Wren looked out the window again taking another breath. I looked at the light, still red. She turned to me.
“I feel like this is taking forever,” she said.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “it does seem longer than usual at this hour.” I picked up my phone to check the time, what I saw confused me. “Huh.” I said.
“What is it?”
“I-I think my phone’s glitched,” I showed her the notification on my lock screen. A notification from Credit Karma with an update on my credit score. That wasn’t anything surprising, the app sent me updates once a week on the weekends. What took me back was the time stamp on it: *7 yrs*.
“I told you that you need to get a new phone,” Wren said.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” I sighed. The light turned green and we entered the town.
***
Wanting to get home as quickly as possible I took the route laid out by Google. It took us down streets I hardly drove on, winding through the city like a snake through a maze.
“Had that always been there?” Wren said, I looked over and saw she was pointing a 7-Eleven. I shrugged. Despite the low density of this town I didn’t know what sat on ever street corner.
I didn’t notice the changes until we turned on Main. Sure the same historic buildings lined the street, the same grain lifts that had been there since the railroads carved their way through the city center back in the 1800s remained, and the same county courthouse stood proud in the middle of the square, but what made me do a double take were the businesses that inhabited the buildings. Where the old time ice cream shop once called home a burger joint sat. Where the old funeral home used to lie a bar with patrons mingling around the outside stood. Nobody stayed out past ten in this town and it was well past midnight now. And where my favorite cafe used to be a Starbucks logo hung over the storefront.
“Did you get off at the right exit?” Wren asked.
“Exit 225, as always.”
“You sure?”
Honestly, I wasn’t. Driving past the buildings I felt as if I had been gaslighted by my own town. It was as if the city were a masquerade party and everybody decided to swap masks while I took a step out to get fresh air. But I knew that was the court house, our court house was the only one in the whole region to have lions on its staircases, back when it used to double as a library way back when.
“I’m sure,” I said.
“Weird,” Wren said.
As we continued our winding trip through town I felt my fingers grip on the steering wheel out of instinct. Where pastures full of cows had been there now laid fully developed neighborhoods. Strip malls and gas stations sat at every street corner as if they had always been there. And the streets. The streets were freshly paved, no longer full of cracks and potholes that had been neglected for decades. All the streets here felt fresh and new. Not a crack on them.
“You sure we aren’t in Carlsonville?” She asked.
I nodded.
Wren checked my GPS. “I don’t recognize any of these streets.”
Hearing her words both gave me comfort and terrified me at the same time. Like hiding in a storm shelter during a tornado outbreak. I had felt momentary comfort while I knew the world I’d emerge into would no longer be the same as the one I left.
“Wait, is that Burlson Ranch?” She pointed out the window towards the one undeveloped piece of land that we had passed. In white text on a blue background the sign proudly displayed *Burlson Ranch, Est. 1923*.
“Todd, just what the hell’s going on?” Wren turned to me.
“I have no idea,” I said griping the steering wheel. I dreaded the thought of what we’d see when we got home. Would our baby be the same or would we arrive to a young girl who had spent seven years without knowing her own parents? I shuttered.
| 2022-08-13T14:50:14 | 2022-08-13T13:54:32 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] "Too bad, Fairy Queen. I never had a kid, so no firstborn for you to take" you say on your deathbed. "Oh I love it when they don't read the fine print" she responds with a wicked smile.
|
"What do you mean?" I asked my eyes growing wide as I watched her inch even closer to my bed until she could wrap an ivory hand around the railing of my bed.
Leaning over she whispered. "You cannot break a deal with the fae even in the face of death, child. Besides, we never stipulated that the child had to be YOUR firstborn." Her grey eyes twinkled with a malice I had never seen before in any creature.
"No...you cannot mean?!" I replied aghast, as I suddenly realized who she had picked, panic began to set in as I tried in vain to struggle against the cords holding me down but I could feel the strength waning from my body with every movement.
A wicked smile began to form across her dark lips. "You lead me straight to her. You picked her out, spent so much time with her family, that I couldn't help but feel as if they needed a little miracle. Be content in the knowledge she will make a fine queen in time. You needed not worry about that."
|
[poem] Last sermon of the fairy queen to the people of "Fayed"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tis too bad dear people, for now ye shall,
shed tears for being ruled by a queen,
known once as the fair princess of Fayed,
now so pale and frail on death's old bed,
for our deal would have concluded,
if just the fine print she had read,
and given up her first born as decided,
but ran instead, she wild with life,
mind alive and conspiracies rife,
and knowingly remained unbred,
and now as her sands end their trickle,
and the hooded scythe cometh nigh,
I exercise that print, fine and unread,
and take possession, of all first born,
of the populace, in her young un's stead!
may she now die in grief,
that deceptive beauty,
that once green, fair queen of Fayed!
•°•°•°•°•° A. Z. Dada •°•°•°•°•
| 2021-10-19T03:21:25 | 2021-10-19T03:09:50 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] Your best friend shows up in your door at midnight. "We have to leave. Now."
|
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
"Hold on a minute."
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
"Damnit fine." I tossed my PS3 controller on the couch next to me. I stood up and stretched for a second. I could smell the affects of not showering for 4 days coming from under my pits. I shrugged and rubbed my dorito-laden fingers across my chest. It's been 3, maybe 4, months now since I lost my job and I really didn't care.
I slouched over to the door and opened it.
"James, we have to leave. Now."
I let out a scream and slammed the door close. What the fuck? I can't.
"James- we have to leave."
My mind couldn't comprehend it. We buried him 6 months ago. With his favorite ball and chew toy. Why the fuck was my dead dog standing- on two legs- outside my door?
I went to speak but couldn't. This was impossible.
"James- it is time to go."
I finally stood up and mustered up the courage to open the door. Shadow and I locked eyes. Chocolate labs typically have brown eyes- but Shadow's were bright blue.
"W-where are we going? What is going?"
"The moon, James. The moon has exploded."
I turned and ran from him. I ended up on my knees and crawled over to the window. I pulled back the curtains and looked into the night sky. The moon was split into 3 larger pieces, with thousands of smaller pieces radiating out.
I wept. My mind couldn't handle it. What was going on? A paw touched me on my shoulder and gave me a nudge.
"James, we don't have much time."
I nodded and just kept sobbing. "How are you here? What are you doing?"
"Just trust me, James. We need to get to an evacuation point. We need you to fly us out of here."
Something inside of me clicked. This felt right. It made complete sense. I felt comfort.
Shadow extend his other paw and helped me to my feet. He pulled me to the door and we both stepped through. I was instantly blasted with the sound of roaring engines and bright lights. I fell to one knee.
"Sir? Are you okay sir?"
I was suddenly wearing a helmet. I reached to touch my face and was blocked by a visor. My hands were covered by thick white gloves.
"Commander, get into the ship. We need you to fly these people off of this planet. You are our only hope."
The voice crackled through the headset inside of the helmet. I looked past my hand and through the grate of the floor. A catwalk. I was hundreds of feet off the ground. The door to the shuttle was infront of me. Shadow was standing inside the door.
"Come on, James."
I could hear Shadow also coming over the radio. He too was in a NASA space suit and had a helmet fastened on him. I climbed to my feet and gripped the railing as tight as I could.
I forced myself down the catwalk and into the shuttle. Shadow motioned a paw to the left seat at the front of the cock pit.
"We need to go, James."
I sat down into the seat and Shadow, who has human gloves and can operate each finger because it makes complete sense at this point, fastened me in and nods. We lock eyes again.
"You were my best friend, James."
"You were mine too, Shadow."
I watched Shadow fasten himself into the co-pilot seat. He hit a few buttons and just nodded.
I called out to the voice from earlier, "I'm ready."
"Roger that, Commander. Take off in 10......9........8..."
I grib the throttle and flight stick as hard as I can.
"7.... 6..... 5..... 4...."
I close my eyes.
"3.....2.....1....."
I push as hard as I can on the throttle and the sudden acceleration of the rocket forces me back in my seat.
A boy who always dreamed of being an astronaut became one. He saved the human race. And he did it with his best friend.
A man who lost all hope remained lifeless and alone on his couch.
|
"I'm gonna grab coffee." I yawned, rubbing crust from my eyes.
"Yea?" Alex said, walking inside even though I hadn't invited him in. My rule with Alex was "Don't ask Questions."
"I say 'Now' and you say, 'hold on wait for coffee', does that seem logical?" He said, walking into the kitchen.
I had an old pot of coffee, cold, sitting out. I poured it into a mug and, somewhat begrudgingly, drank it. "Yea, it's midnight. I'm tired and you want me to do something."
Alex, jumped up onto my counter, sitting across from me. "Something? Not just something my dear little Nicky. An amazing thing, a thing that will blow your mind."
"I'm gonna grab my shoes." I walked away as he tailed behind me. I throw on some grungy work cloths and running shoes.
"Yes! That's my boy, let's do this." Off we went, hoping into Alex's car, driving down the road faster than I would have liked.
"So, this girl was at my place last night and she tells me about this abandoned warehouse."
"Cool." I mumbled, trying to stay awake.
"Dude, Cool indeed! Supposedly she over heard some drug lords. They hide 50 mill in that place."
"ohh... kay." I still wasn't awake. Alex was a notorious liar. I had another rule, never say No to Alex; mostly cause it doesn't work.
"Not that we're gonna take it. We are just gonna look for it." Alex laughed.
"Sounds like a plan."
As we weaved in and out of neighborhoods till we came about a street of half finished houses. Alex pulled over. We got out of the car. He said something about walking through woods to the warehouses down and around the way. I tuned him out, breathing the calm cool night air.
We reach woods, a smell of fresh pine filled in around us. The trees seemed to move, perhaps with the wind. I snapped on twigs, listening to them crunch.
Reaching the end of the woods, there was building complexes; among them, a boarded up warehouse. It seemed almost out of place.
I felt uneasy. Alex always had fun ideas but this was a bit... I didn't feel well.
"Alex. Let's go home." I said turning the other way.
"Yea." Alex sighed, "This is probably a bad idea."
I walked back to the car, my head feeling heavy. It wasn't till I was on the other side of the woods that I smelt smoke.
I was carrying an empty container of gasoline. Strange, I don't remember bring this.
"This is an empty container of gasoline." I stated staring at it. Alex stood behind me.
"Yes and that is a fire." He motioned toward the building we had turned away from.
"Fuck. That is a fire." I stated.
"Nick. We came here last week, remember?" Alex said. My head hurt.
"No."
"Yes, we thought this was a great idea. We'd see the money, call the cops, be famous. Remember?"
"No."
"And we showed up, to this place. We wondered around, broke in. We did all that. You said I was a crazy fucker. It was a labyrinth of asbestos in that place. We found the money though. It wasn't any 50 mil but it was a nice nest egg. Probably a years worth for drug smuggling money. We made breaking bad jokes."
"No." I whispered. I could feel the heat from the building even though I was a good distance away.
"Dude, we ran into some trouble. We got shot at. It was cool, right?"
"No."
"Yea, you're right. It wasn't cool. I'm not here am I."
"No, You're not." Tears ran down my face. I felt sick. I dropped the empty container, shaking.
"And you thought you show those assholes, right?"
"No." My voice cracked.
"But you needed my help." Alex smirked.
"Yes, Alex I need you." I cried, falling to the ground.
| 2015-03-24T16:38:20 | 2015-03-24T16:28:37 | 39 | 16 |
[WP] you fell asleep in a classroom, you dreamt of a whole life you even died at 80, your teacher just woke you up and no one believes how you understand so much at 6 years old
|
The phone rang gently as she tapped the long nails of her fingers onto the desk top. The receiver picked up. "Hello?"
"Hello, Mrs McLeod? Yes, this is Ms. Hackett from St. Enochs. Do you have time to speak?" Asked the teacher with a voice so stern and cold that it could freeze the fires of hell.
"What's this all about?" Asked Mrs McLeod on the other side of the phone. "Is it about Harry?"
"I'm afraid it is, Mrs McLeod." Said the teacher.
"Oh God," she replied. "What's happened to him? Is he alright?" The panic on the other end of the phone was palpable.
"Harry has had an incident in the classroom." Said Ms. Hackett, "Where he decided to have a funny turn. Obviously your son wants to be a clown when he's older, judging from what he's told the class."
"What did he say?" Said Mrs McLeod more worried than ever.
"He had the indeceny to start screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of class." Said Ms Hackett, not amused.
"That sounds normal for a six year old." Said Mrs McLeod.
"Normal six year olds don't start screaming 'we're all going to go extinct by the year 2031,' Mrs McLeod." Said the teacher.
The phone was silent for a few seconds.
"I beg your pardon?" Asked Mrs McLeod.
"Yes. He began to talk about the future, Mrs McLeod. How the Russians were going to drop the Soviet Banner. How there was to be a war in the middle east and how the world would be ruined in the 80s by an actor and a -" she stopped to read the notes, "Blood thirsty Cow, the term was. And also that a gameshow host would be president and an American would be prime minister." Ms. Hackett stopped to take her reading glasses off. "Now, I don't mean to give you a rating for you as a parent, Mrs McLeod, but the boys over reactive imagination is going to be a problem if we don't deal him some discipline. We've already given him the lashings but he won't stop his delusional fantasies."
Mrs. McLeod sat quietly. "My Harry said all of that?" She asked.
"All of that and more. He now won't sit still and refuses to co-operate within the class room. We've already given him twenty lashings of the belt, but he simply refuses to calm down." Said Ms. Hackett. "May I ask is there any insanity in your family?"
"Not.... That I'm aware of?" She said with slight uncertainty.
"Well, I strongly advise you to come at once so that we can discuss what's to be done with Harry. 5 o'clock, Mrs McLeod." Ms. Hackett placed the phone down and looked across at Harry who stood staring at the calendar.
"What is it you're looking at, Mr McLeod?" Asked the teacher with a deep disdain.
"The calendar." Said Harry. "It can't be 1957."
"It's 1957 for everyone on earth, Mr McLeod." She leaned onto the desk. "That was your mother on the phone. She's coming to discuss your recent class room activities."
Harry said nothing. They waited for his mother to arrive. When she did, they had a long discussion that was lengthy and, in Harrys mind, a complete waste of time. They both came to the agreement that if Harry wouldn't disrupt the class and would stay in line, there wouldn't be any further issues. Harry was given no say in the matter, despite his hands being the ones that were blood red raw.
Before they left the office, his mother dragging him by the scruff, Harry asked if he could say one last thing to Ms. Hackett. "It'll be October of this year. Sputnik, Miss." Said Harry. "Good evening, Miss."
They left and all Ms. Hackett could think of when she looked into that boys eyes was the man who was staring back at her. She opened her desk, pulled out the bottle and began to drink.
|
The mountain stood motionless, majestic in its immensity, meditative in its stillness.
The legion swarming over the mountain, however, was none of these things. Having been sent on this horrifying death charge by a cabal of Drek politicians hoping desperately to buy time for backlogged logistical shipping companies to mail their valuables off-world, they charged with the enthusiasm of the scrawny kid in gym class who knows he has to run, but really doesn't see the point.
In jagged chaotic lines they advanced, each trying to run just a little bit slower than the soldier next to them in hopes that the Drek cabal would have a sudden change of heart and call the whole nasty business off.
When the charge became inevitable, failing to receive the phone call to retreat from the cabal, who at this point were bemoaning the indignity of being forced to travel coach on the last outbound ships, Vane looked around at his troops, then toward the human outpost bristling with enough cannons to host a pretty decent new years firework show, then back to his troops. There had been stories that the top Drek neuromancers had been working on a secret strategy, a final hail-mary to infiltrate the humans and destroy them from within, but seemingly that hadn't panned out and they were also fighting for flights in coach off world.
"Well lads, for king and planet I suppose," Vane said as he buckled his helmet on.
"I'm feeling a bit ill Captain, I think I might need to sit this one out," a young Drek infantryman said.
"Yeah, I think I got a stomach bug or something," his companion said as he rubbed his head for emphasis and a sudden epidemic of the stomach bug infected the whole troop.
"Now lads, now lads! I know this isn't what you want or expected, but if you think real hard, I think you'll find that this really just isn't what you expected that you'd want!"
The infantrymen looked back at him, confusion in their purple eyes.
"Think of the honor! The songs they'll sing! The heroes who braved certain death to protect the people they love!" A nearby infantryman spontaneously transformed into a cloud of mist for no reason as a nearby shell spontaneously acted on a lifelong urge to set up a cozy hillside home where the infantryman once stood.
"No," the Drek subordinate rubbing his head looked around sheepishly, "I think I like the sick idea."
Vane sighed, then, raising his arm to the sky, led the charge into the fray. Two steps in, he was rudely interrupted by yet another shell with a sudden intense desire to homestead the mountain.
"There must be a better way..." Vane thought as he died.
---
"Vane? Vane! Wake up Vane!" Mrs. Spetolli slapped the desk with a ruler and the students laughed as Vane's body jerked up and his eyes looked blearily around the class.
"As I was saying," Mrs. Spetolli resumed her armed patrol of the classroom, a small bailiff in a small dungeon, "Drek government is a..."
"Absolute oligarchic monarchy," Vane said sleepily.
"Correct," Mrs. Spetolli gave Vane, who had never shown any aptitude before, a strange look.
"And the Drek system consists of..." She trailed off, pacing around the room.
"Seven planets and fourteen lunar colonies," Drek recited, "the grand capital Anantes, and the seven planetary capitals, Voltes, Riges, Alt..."
He trailed off, looking at Mrs. Spetolli, who was looking at him with the intensity one usually reserves for food or crossword puzzles.
"Altes, Denee, Sires, Portuna, and Klendathu." A small girl finished for him.
Mrs. Spetolli gave a harumph and continued her walk around the classroom. Vane turned toward the girl who gave him a wink. A cat-eyed [wink](https://www.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/) with purple eyes. Vane smiled to himself.
| 2020-05-12T04:16:36 | 2020-05-12T04:01:02 | 69 | 37 |
[WP] The strength of a god is proportional to how many people are aware of it. After seeing the Norse gods become popular due to the Avengers movies, lesser known Gods from other cultures pay Hollywood a visit...
|
"So...what do you do, exactly?"
Holda continued to work at her distaff, her practiced hands moving automatically as she looked at the agent. She carried herself with the dignity of a queen.
"I preside over the domain of spinning. It was I who taught mankind to make linen from flax." Her voice was steady and serious as she informed the agent of her great importance.
"You do realize we've had an industrial revolution and it's all done by machines these days, right?"
Holda blinked.
"Wait, what?"
"People don't spin fabric using a distaff anymore. The textile industry uses machines. Also, there's another textile called cotton that is used far more than linen."
Holda trudged out of the office. She no longer carried herself like a queen.
She turned and addressed the other textile goddesses.
"I've got good news and bad news."
All the other textile goddesses (save Athena, who had other domains to fall back on) were as crushed as Holda, but they perked up a bit upon learning about the thing called "Etsy."
|
What does it mean to be a God? Are we all the same? Are we even real? Nobody knows for sure, not even we do, but the one thing all us Gods do know is that the more people know of us the more strength and influence we have in the mortal world.
Some Gods have been cheating recently. These Norse types have been in Hollywood blockbusters. I mean just look how good these Scandinavian guys have it at the moment. Iceland qualified for a World Cup for crying out loud. Coincidence? I think not.
Luckily for me I have a bit of a head start in Hollywood over the other pretenders who wish to cash in on the hype. You see, the rich and famous have a fondness for me and this fondness can be exploited.
My name will soon make headlines around the world with the films I will be in and mankind will soon remember my name.
My name is Xenu and I will soon be made real.
| 2018-08-26T14:47:47 | 2018-08-26T14:10:34 | 67 | 14 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here.
|
"So, you're an alien?" Said the Human
the one with two circles attached to it's eyes. With one peek, Aleri could tell it was a made of a silicon compund.
"Yes, Greetings Earthlings. I am what you'd call an alien. I am not from this planet. I am a Mercurian." Aleri said to the humans.
"You are from Mercury? But how? We thought we are the only life in this solar system" One of the Humans asked.
"No, there is life on all the nine planets. So why didn't you, the prime species of the Earth, The humans respond to the invitation?"
He asked.
"What invitation?" Another Human inquired. This one was wearing a suit
"The one to join the Sun Federation ofcourse, all other eight planets of the solar system have accepted. So what stopped you?" He asked. He remembered the General telling him to be nice to them and mentioning about their hormones.
"We didn't get any Invitation" the same suited Human replied.
Aleri thought that the humans are saying that they didn't receive the invitation because they couldn't decrypt the message and were too embarassed to ask for help. The humans have multiple hormones that affect their emotions, he remembered.
"Take me to your core, I'll decrypt the gravitational message" he said.
"Core? But that's impossible. It's too hot that it melts and burns everything" said one of the Humans.
"Melt and Burn everything? What about Dranium?" He asked
"What is that?" The human replied.
A planet without Dranium?
The most abundant of the solar metals. Every other planet in the Solar System had it.
"Do you atleast have Siliod?"
"No"
"What's the melting point of you most heat resistant element?" He asked in shock.
"Tungsten, 3422°C" the same human in suit replied.
"Only 3422?"
Was this planet really from the sun?
Not even having Siliod or the more common Dranium.
How did these humans get the technology to develop their atmosphere without one of the basic sun metals?.
|
Zorniffous was unsure. Zorniffous was also 100% certain.
That is to say that Zorn, as his friends knew him, was feeling very uncertain about his very accurate understanding of the situation.
The fact was, this world was puttering along just nicely in some key respects. In others, they were magnificently failing.
The report to the homeworld might get him klubooked from the University. No one in any position of authority would believe a word of it.
Zorn stroked his ruddington with his favorite clawdorf and pondered the next move.
Philosophers had wondered for centuries what alternative technological pathways could exist, and here was a wonderful example of it, ripe for study. It seemed this world developed on the basis of accidental discovery rather than rigorous testing. Happy accidents provided them with antibiotics prior to the development of hormonal manipulation and something consistently impeded their willingness to experiment on others of their own species.
If they were only sufficiently committed, aging, dementia, and mental and physical illnesses would be over.
Why wouldn't they want to change? Isn't life suffering? Isn't the purpose of science to improve the conditions of being?
Zorn sighed from a little over half of his gumbles and puzzled about this strange species' commitment to their current form.
If he told others, they would come here to gawk at these narcissists; at least those who weren't too busy laughing at Zorn.
"Oh well," thought Zorn after a few hours of mulling whether to share his discovery, "I already have tenure anyways."
The ovular cruiser orbiting the planet turned, speeding far, far away from the strange and backward planet, populated with a species wholly uncommitted to exploring the wonders of the universe.
_________________________________________________
EDIT: Removed some made up pronouns intended to convey alienness of Zorniffous. However, on switching the pronouns, it became clear I had been writing in part to incorporate as many as I could and that even after swapping the pronouns it was still a bit disjointed as a result.
| 2017-03-09T23:19:38 | 2017-03-09T16:38:02 | 132 | 29 |
[WP] Your roommate has the annoying habit of summoning demons for mundane tasks. They vent their frustrations with you.
|
"Mortal! What is the meaning of this?"
I look over the top of my book at a grotesque monster, and sigh.
"I'm not the one who summoned you. What's your name, demon?"
"I am the infamous Lord Axaris the Bloody! I have killed-"
"Okay, Axaris, what's the issue. You know why you were summoned, don't you?"
I put my book aside. Axaris really is ugly. Par for the course, I suppose.
"That's LORD Axaris to you, mortal!"
"Sorry, I'm not in the mood. I can call you Ax or Axaris, whichever you prefer. Now, what's the issue?"
"Doing your dishes is beneath me! I demand that you let me go at once!"
"Fat chance."
"HOW DARE YOU!! I shall curse you for all eternity!"
"Look, I'm not happy either. But I have no knowledge of the occult. I don't know how to send you back."
"Then erase my summoning circle!"
I roll my eyes at him.
"Yeah, no. That's the one thing I know not to do, buddy."
"WHERE IS HE?"
"Shit, I don't know. Don't shout at me when I'm right here. There's nothing wrong with my ears."
"I shall wait for him here!"
Lord Axaris sits down in the middle of the room and crosses his four arms.
"Fine with me. Although it'll probably be hours before he's back."
I grab my book again.
"What are you reading, mortal?"
"Huh? This book is called the Two Towers. It's the second part of a fantasy epic."
"Can I see it?"
"How about I hand you part one instead? Catch."
I reach over to a nearby shelf and pull off the Fellowship of the Ring. Then I toss it.
"Does this summoner often call demons to this house, mortal?" Axaris demands to know.
"Oh yeah, almost every day. I try to stay out of the way, but I'm always the one being complained to in the end."
"If it bothers you, why don't you do the dishes instead?"
"I do, when it's my turn. Today, it's not. If he wants to summon demons to do his chores, well, that's his soul at stake, not mine."
"Bah, what scum."
"Yep... I wish he'd stop. Even so, I kind of got used to it."
We stop talking for a while. I can only hear Axaris flip the pages of the book now and again.
"This ring in the story is a peculiar object. How does it work?" he asks.
"Ah. Well, it was forged by an evil sorcerer in a volcano, and if you wear it for too long, it turns you into a spirit that serves him."
"Hmm... That is interesting."
He puts the book down and walks towards the kitchen.
"I have a proposal, mortal," he says.
"What is it, Axaris?"
"Tell him I did the dishes without complaining, and that he should summon me again. When he does, I'll have something for you to give him."
"Ah. Sure, whatever. I don't mind if he becomes your slave."
"Also... Could I have that book?"
I look at the book on the table, and then at him.
"They're his to begin with, so I don't see why not. They'll become yours automatically, won't they?"
"I'd like to take it with me today."
"Do your thing."
I turn towards my book again and continue reading. Even fiction seems to have its uses now and again.
|
Marius opened the door to the small flat and within the blink of an eye his right hand wandered to his back, wrapping around the hilt of his sword. The smell coming from the room ran several alarm bells at once. But it was not only the smells. Sure, the hints of sulfur and earth were already a pretty obvious sign, but the slight feeling of despair and fear that was banging against the inside of his head made it more than obvious. Something was in here, something supernatural. With fast steps Marius stormed to the door leading into the kitchen-livingroom part of the flat and opened it quickly before jumping back. It took a short moment before his mind was able to comprehend what he was seeing.
The livingroom part of the room on Mariuses left side sported a big TV, a couch and an armchair in which his roommate Nathan sat, just now looking up from the giant book sitting in his lap. That alone would not have been such a problem, no, the problem was on the right side, in the kitchen part.
Next to a mountain of dirty plates, pans and pots, in front of a small soap water filled kitchen sink, stood a demon. The creature was 9 foot tall, muscular arms and a head with long horns. The complete thing was covered in some sort of chitin chitinous exoskeleton and was bright red. It had to kneel in front of the sink to actually be able to reach it, and the clouds of lather sprinkled all over the creature made it obvious that even this way it had a hard time.
“What the shit?” Marius shouted into the room and stepped through the door frame, the sword pointed at the beast which was currently struggling to get up on the wet slippery floor. The six eyes in its skull fixed on Marius’s blade.
“Good evening Marius, how did the sword lessons go?” Nathan asked and closed the book.
“What is that?” Marius pointed the sword at the now standing monster.
Before Nathan could even speak the demon answered in a deep voice that reminded Marius of thunder in the distance: “I am Banthal, Prince of the flaming forest. Lord of the red pack and destroyer of Ul’am Ahar”
The impressive title was slightly undermined by both the lather stains as well as the brushes the he was holding in two of the four hands.
“Shut it Ban, get back to cleaning” Nathan said and with a short whimper the demon dropped back on his knees and slowly turned to the sink again.
“Why is this thing cleaning the stuff you should be cleaning?” Marius shouted.
“I didn't feel like doing it, besides I wanted to try summoning a level nine being anyway.”
“You put the whole block at risk just so that you don't have to do the dishes?”
“Relax, I know what I am doing.”
“And what about the time you decided it would be faster to summon a hellfrog than make a fire for the barbecue? You set the building on fire!”
“Only a small fire.”
“And the time you summoned a demon to walk a dog? Has it even been found?”
“Well, no, but I am sure ….”
“Let's not forget that you once summoned a Siren to fill the pool!”
“Which she did!”
“With acid!”
“Yeah, I should have been more specific. But here I am super careful and old Ban here is restricted by 11 bindings.”
“I command Armies of flaming servants, if you let me go now I will spare your pity....” The demon suddenly started but one angry scream from Marius silenced him quickly.
“Shut it!”
| 2018-05-06T09:40:23 | 2018-05-06T08:52:26 | 169 | 21 |
[WP] Galactic wars are always won by whoever finds the other first – there is simply no way to retaliate fast enough to a carpet bombing from a high orbit. Other civilizations are absolutely terrified of Terrans who are cocky enough to broadcast their presence loud and clear.
|
“We should initiate Operation Overlord, Admiral. It’s time,” Major Tvotsky said, rubbing the sense organs on his face. “Look,” he said, unrolling a stellar map of the Terran’s home planets. “The Terrans are spreading quicker than anticipated, sir. They are like a virus. They are sending interstellar arcs as we speak to more than ten solar systems.”
The Major pointed to the stars on the map surrounding Sol—the human’s home solar system.
“We’ve found The Terrans before they've found us, Admiral,” He said, tapping hard on the star indicating Sol. “We must conduct a first strike. We all know that is the rules of the game, sir. Simple survival. We must hit them before they find us. We have the advantage now.”
“But why do they broadcast themselves so loudly, Major? Surely, they must know the perils of doing so,” the Admiral said, looking at the map.
“Does it matter? We cannot hesitate, Admiral. They are stronger every day. At their current rate of progression, our researchers say the technological gap between us will be closed by the end of the century, if not sooner.”
“Zoey, pull up current Terran broadcasts,” the Admiral said.
*Pulling up Terran broadcasts, Admiral,* the ship’s artificial intelligence said.
Flowing around the two officers were hundreds, thousands, then hundreds of thousands of videos of Terrans laughing, crying, making love, playing with their animals, dancing, fighting…
The admiral enjoyed pulling up these broadcasts in the evening as he drank a hot cup of Nysin tea, watching this peculiar species in their peculiar acts. They seemed to have an energy for existence that he wasn’t used to. And they broadcasted that zest for life throughout the whole galaxy and beyond. *We are here,* they said, their myriad voices sliding immortal through the infinite black expanse.
Naïve? yes, the Admiral thought. But there was something exceptional… and a little terrifying in a species that would be so brazenly arrogant—as though they assumed they were the only intelligent species.
“No, Major. I do not authorize Operation Overlord at this time. I think there is a lot to learn from these Terran, and I will not be the harbinger of annihilation to such a peculiar species.”
“Admiral, I must inform you that I will be reporting my concerns to the Politburo.”
“I understand, Major. You are dismissed.”
Major Tvotsky nodded curtly, turned then stormed out of the room.
The Admiral paid no attention, looking at one particular video of a mother Terran tossing a Terran baby in the air, their smiling faces touching nose to nose as the baby fell into its mother's arms.
What a peculiar species, he said to himself.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
|
The universe stood still, each planet doing its best to avoid being detected by its neighbors, listening to their satellites with a constantly encroaching fear. Being detected was a death sentence. As soon as someone caught your location, missiles would follow, leaving your planet a mess of rubble and debris.
Yet, one species didn’t allow itself to be consumed by the fear. The Terrans cockily sending their coordinates out to the galaxy, challenging anyone to come and find them, a move so bold that many species now feared these powerful beings.
“A machine, they sent a machine into space?”
Those were the hushed words that caused the destruction of Ligus 9. The three eyed alien staring in amazement as a car flew past his planet. Watching the latest declaration of confidence that the humans had sent out. The car floating past their planet, while his finger sat on the broadcast button. Before the car had even finished passing, the planet vanished into a mess of broken rock and rubble.
A bold move and they kept getting bolder, various devices and signals being sent into the open space. The Terrans challenging anyone to match their might, a challenge that no one accepted. Many lived in fear, scared of the day when the humans left their planet, worried about what mass destruction they might cause.
One planet intended to go to Earth, wanting to put an end to their threats, confident in their ability to do so without revealing their location. Corin 5 sent their best operatives to earth. Kidnapping humans to gain intel, only to find the truth about Terrans, was more horrifying than the fiction they had created.
Not only were humans arrogant and violent, but they also waged war on themselves. Something so barbaric that it made the leaders of Corin 5 sick to their many stomachs. A race that fought with themselves. A hive mind couldn’t wrap their united brain around such a concept. It would be like fighting with a sibling.
With this intel gained, they were quick to retreat, pulling their troops out, fearing a retaliation attack by the humans. Oddly enough, the humans never responded to the acts of kidnapping, something that the council of Corin 5 attributed to the human’s superiority. Not wishing to concern themselves with weaker aliens.
For now, the universe watches, refusing to make any moves that may cause their downfall, fearing their neighbors but more than that, fearing the Terrans. Frightened about the eventual conquest that would occur when the Terrans left earth.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-04-09T09:10:09 | 2021-04-09T05:44:58 | 584 | 150 |
[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days.
|
The Shadow stood awkwardly, unable to sit, while Fluffy the Bear sat on the bed and the Thing plopped down at the desk, shoving all his appendages under the table.
"I never thought we'd all be out here, like this," Fluffy said, with a tired smile. The Shadow and the Thing saw that the bear had lost a lot of his fur, and that his golden sheen had dulled a bit. "I don't know why, but I'm happy to see you."
"So how's the battle? Who took our spots?" The Shadow said.
"No one. It's been boring."
"No one?" The Thing stood up, and banged his head on the ceiling. Fluffy and the Shadow laughed. "What are you talking about? There's always monsters coming for little boys and girls."
"Not Anna," Fluffy said with a faraway look in his eye. "She just uses her magic brick, the one with the pictures and the sounds. I don't know how, but I think she can talk to her friends on it. Why would...never mind."
"What is it, Fluffy?"
"It's just...why would she need me? When she has a magic brick?"
The Shadow and the Thing looked at each other, and back at their defeated friend.
"You know..."
\-
"Fluffy told us not to," the Shadow said. He had always had respect for the Teddy Bear, especially how it was never afraid of the light, of being touched.
"But that's because he's him," the Thing said, pacing back and forth on the roof. "Come on. Just one last time."
"Anna's thirteen now. She stopped being scared of monsters a long time ago."
"That's true. But that doesn't mean she won't need her teddy bear."
"So what's your idea?"
\-
Fluffy laid prone, his side to the pillow. He was warm, and comfortable, but his heart was empty. He looked out the window, and the swaying trees, the lights in the house across, the crescent moon, which used to be so comforting, merely reminded him that Anna would soon disappear into that world.
Anna was giggling, and Fluffy closed his eyes. He barely had any hope left, any hope that Anna would put down her magic brick and hug him...
Suddenly, there was a bang. Fluffy looked outside.
The lights had turned off.
Those rascals, he thought.
The door opened. Anna's mother came in.
"Anna, honey? Are you okay?"
"What happened, mommy?"
"The power went out. We just got an email that a transformer exploded."
"What does that mean?"
"It'll be dark till morning, at least."
"And the WiFi?"
"It's out too."
"What am I supposed to do then, until I fall asleep?"
Anna's mother shrugged, and left.
Fluffy laid there, in the cool silence, and told himself to keep his heart still.
Then Anna's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, back to her warm, beating heart.
"Thanks for always being there for me, Fluffy."
And Fluffy looked out the window, and even in the darkness, he could see the outline of his two friends. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
"Bogeyman, it's good to see you again," said the 2 foot tall teddy bear who sipped at his imaginary tea.
"I can't say the same, forever is too long to go without you," said the bogeyman who was obviously too large for the plastic children's chair he sat in.
"Now don't be like that, we were just doing our jobs, we were on the clock so to speak. I have no issue with you for I know not anything of you or your kin."
The bogeyman grimaced, "I hate the way you talk."
"Well, we are having a tea party. Go on, have a sip of your tea." The teddy bear motioned at the teacup in front of the bogeyman.
"There's nothing in it..."
"So there's no harm in trying it!"
The bogeyman sighed and took a sip. His eyes widened to a taste as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug.
"Yes, there's nothing in it, but we're spirits. So in a sense, we more so don't exist than do. And you'd be surprised what a spirit can make from nothing."
"No I wouldn't be. I just do things different."
"Steal kid's souls, you mean?"
The bogeyman sighed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Five years! For five years I held you at bay as you tried to lure Timmy under the bed or in the closet during the dead of night, when you're most powerful!"
"And you won! So why did you call me here!? To gloat!?"
This time the teddy bear sighed. "No, things have changed since you left. It used to be the darkness versus the light. Things were easier. But now a new monster has shown, and I just don't know what to do."
The bogeyman laughed, a hearty, long laugh. "Hahahaha! So you did call me here to gloat?!"
"I'm asking for help!" declared the teddy bear.
The bogeyman was shocked silent. The idea never occurred to him. For all his existence no one ever asked him for help, and he in turn never expected help from anyone else.
"Not everything has to be so evil, you know." The teddy bear took a grumpy sip of his tea.
This was the closest thing to anger the bogeyman had ever seen on his old foe. "Everything's evil when you're a monster," replied the bogeyman, "so what is it, this beast that even you cannot contain?"
"A bully. Another kid is picking on him, and there's not a darn thing I can do as a crummy teddy bear."
"And what am I supposed to do? Timmy's too old to be scared of the bogeyman now. I'm less than crummy, I'm nothing."
"I thought you could give me some advice I could give him."
The bogeyman thought on it - giving advice, something that helps another person. It was a foreign concept to him. *What would I do,* thought the bogeyman. In the end he said, "Fight back."
| 2019-11-18T10:09:25 | 2019-11-18T08:47:46 | 86 | 21 |
[WP]You jokingly "bless" your towns water supply with friends. Shortly after 1 percent of the local population are reacting to tap water as if it were acid.
|
"What the hell did you do to the people of this town you sick sonofabitch?" The short-haired marshal racked the shotgun that was pointed at my chest. I'm not really sure why he did that, as a few cartidges tumbled to the floor. Not that I wasn't scared, I was terrified, but I couldn't help but notice.
"Whoa whoa, calm down, maybe it's not what it looks like." The longer-haired one chimed in, jumping out of their black four-door and jogging up to his partner. He was clearly the good cop here, and I was ab-so-lutely willing to cooperate.
"I swear it was just a joke! Chuck and Mischa dared me, and I since had a rosary, and a prayerbook in my backpack I couldn't really back down. I mean, blessing the reservoir didn't really DO anything to it, and I'm pretty sure that in the grand scheme of things, God has bigger things to worry about than just a little bit of blasphemy, but I didn't know that the US Marshals cared so much about it so PLEASE! PLEASE don't kill me!"
The long-haired one grabbed the prayerbook from my backpack and thumbed through the pages before stopping on the prayer. "You used this one? Huh. That's.... that's actually a surprisingly good choice."
"Wait wait wait wait. Sam. You're saying that chachi over here" He jerked his finger at me. "just accidentally ganked an entire city's worth of demons overnight? And it WORKED?"
The longer haired guy nodded, with a shocked and soulful look. "Yeah Dean.. I think that's exactly what he did."
"Kid.. You are freaking AWESOME."
|
...The beating of the door stopped only a moment ago. I can hear them on the roof clawing and scratching at the tiles. It's only a matter of time now. I stand up from my porcelain sanctuary and walk to the sink. Looking into the mirror, I can still recognize myself...so I have that and little else, though after last night I consider it all the wealth in the world.
Twisting the handle slowly and seeing the water running freely...Purely!
I speak the word to myself aloud, "Pure". Then turn the water off. I plot to stand in a running shower as they come for me, but I know Mr.Brinkley the plumber would make short work of it. I think of his face before last night, a warm welcoming man full of cheer and I miss him...God save me, I miss the man that fixed my clogged drain that I only spoke to once.
I ask myself "where do I go from here?", apparently that idiot is out of ideas so I resolve myself to "Plan A."
I step back into bathtub and plug the drain. I turn the water on making sure to find a comfortable temperature, after all this may be my last shower....I consider it a baptism.
As the tub fills I set into the water, it's a comfortable temperature.
I'll wait for the right moment to turn on the shower. I find myself wishing I hadn't been cheap and had purchased the detachable shower head...but regret was something I left by the river last night; I only wish I could bless my conscience the way Jacob blessed those waters and cursed the two of us. I only heard what they did to him...It's all I hear in the clawing and screeching around me.
I'll wait for them, as they've waited.
| 2015-04-13T14:52:46 | 2015-04-13T14:35:41 | 66 | 10 |
[WP] After too many ridiculous and lengthy lawsuits dominate the world's courts, the world leaders decided to pass a law to remove all warning labels. The Darwin Act has just been passed.
|
They hadn't anticipated these sorts of losses. The idiots were dropping like flies left and right. President Harvard had pushed for this bill for months, and now he was staring down the barrel of the consequences. 4,000 casualties in D.C alone, and the numbers just kept pouring in. What was wrong with these people? He'd expected a rise in accident related deaths, but this was unprecedented! Velma, his over worked and overworked secretary scurried into the oval office with a stack of reports. President Harvard gave a groan.
"Don't tell me." He snapped.
"There's more from West Virginia, Sir." She plowed ahead. This stupid bill had kept her up all night and she looked a mess. Her glasses were skewed and her hair stuck up in poufs where she had run her hands through it.
"More!? The whole state will be dead at this rate!" Harvard gripped his hair and shook his head. The press would have a feeding frenzy. But how could he have been expected to forsee this!? Who would have thought America was so... stupid? Sure they'd called it the Darwin law, but nobody had actually anticipated the mass extinction of idiots!
"And the Prime Minister is on the phone, Sir." Velma picked up the phone pressed one of the many flashing lines and held it out to Harvard expectantly. He gave the woman a glare and waved her away as he took the reciever.
"Hello, Prime Minister... No,no we're just fine! How are your numbers?... Only 2,000 you say?... How is that poss-!... What do you mean you've seen our numbers on the news!?... Dammit Velma!" Harvard slammed the reciever down. The U.K had only lost 2000? How could that be possible!? As Velma re-entered the room he slammed his fist on the table.
"I want the number reports for all of the other countries! I need to know how we stand in the global losses!" Velma pulled a file from her stack and handed it to the president. As he opened it his face went from ruddy, to ashen. "That can't be all!" He shouted. Velma blinked and nodded.
"That's up to date as of ten minutes ago."
"We've lost more than every country in the world and it isn't even noon!"
|
After ten years abroad, I returned home to the United States. I had heard strange rumors flitting about now and again, but how much of it was true i could only speculate. It had been about 13 years since the land of my birth had seceded from the global economy, isolating and insulating, after the events of the Long Spring.
I stood awkwardly in my airport terminal waiting for my flight, having unconsciously panicked and departed some five hours early for my flight. I thought about home and I shuddered in a giddy uncertain apprehension.
The flight lasted three hours. I did not speak, burying myself in a novel I had intended to read since my second year of university. I was now thirty five.
When my feet touched the hallowed soil of that nation, known in times long past as the birthplace of freedom, the haven for hypocrisy, the defender of those who shall inherit the Earth, the meek, the land of interventionists and bigots, I could not stop the slight curling of my lip, whether in disdain or in a certain patriotic remembrance of a golden age long revealed to be merely gilded, I suppose it is not my right to know. I hailed a taxi and requested that I be delivered to my ancestral home. As we drove I took stock. I saw drivers, mine included, careening through intersections next to which, in other nations, stop lights would have dictated their right to proceed. It was true then. The Darwin Acts. Papers had been published throughout the world on the strange, far right, anti-coddling phase it seemed the US was going through. My nation was mocked and derided throughout Europe for it. I personally had no grounds to argue in its favor. It had claimed the lives of childhood friends, those I relied on to get me through to my adulthood, at this point consisting of half-read novels, iron-burned shirts, and unemployment. I was, suffice to say, not a fan.
Having arrived at the home of my fathers, a small and somewhat decrepit home falling into disrepair, I paid my driver. He looked strange, pale, his hands bony and scarred. I entered my home, bidding him good day.
| 2017-03-24T02:56:03 | 2017-03-24T02:55:36 | 21 | 15 |
[FF] In 75 words or fewer, write about experiencing a devastating loss, without including death.
|
The mirror hadn't been cleaned. She sighed and began scrubbing. When she had finished, she made her way towards the kitchen and heard snippets of conversation.
"Your grandmammy... Her Alzheimer's is getting worse. She's not the nice old lady you used to know..."
She wondered who they were talking about for a moment before making her way to the bathroom.
The mirror hadn't been cleaned. She sighed and began scrubbing...
|
Nothing left but a note on a dresser.
*I thought it could be, but it couldn't. I'm so sorry.*
The other half of the sheets were rumpled, but empty, for the first time in two years.
***
Figured I'd try my hand at this. Lemme know how I did.
| 2014-10-19T18:33:46 | 2014-10-19T18:32:35 | 254 | 47 |
[WP] Describe a color, without actually saying it. You can't use other colors to describe it!
|
What do I know of it, what can I say of it?
It was the color of her hair, the first girl I ever loved.
The color of her death, fearing god above.
The changing of the seasons, lying on the ground.
The birds that still sang to me when I did not hear a sound.
It was the color of his shirt, the first time we ever met.
And the burning of my face, all my foolish regrets.
My mother's favorite color, and when I ask her why
She answers with a smile, "It's the color of goodbye."
|
It's the look in his eyes when he spies her with another, it's the flash of cash in his hands when paying for her time. It's the gentle shading of her dress when they meet that night. It's the hilt of the dagger protruding from her back, it's the look of her face when she's finally found, it's the faded life of the grass hiding her.
| 2014-04-06T08:46:24 | 2014-04-06T08:26:15 | 59 | 12 |
[WP] A police officer and an arrested criminal manage to survive the apocalypse in their police car, the officer is conflicted about trusting and freeing the criminal as they struggle to survive.
|
"You ever hear the story of the scorpion and the frog?"
"What? Y'all crazy. World's gone kaput and you're hearing yappin' on about a frog."
"My momma told me it, long time ago. Shows who people really are."
"I ain't no frog man!"
"It's a metaphor." The office shifted in the car, turning in his seat. "Anyway, you're the scorpion."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm a scorpion, that's better."
"So this scorpion, it wants to cross a river."
"Why?"
"So it can buy some crack, doesn't matter. The scorpion gets to the river edge and asks a frog if it will carry it across the river."
"Why don't it just swim?"
"Christ!" The perp lent back in the seat, cuffed hands raised in defence. "The scorpion can't swim, the frog can. Get it?"
"I get it."
"The frog's like, 'Why should I take you? You're just gonna kill me.'"
"What if the scorpion just wanna get across the river?"
The officer sighed. The perp zipped a finger across his mouth.
"The frog finally say alright, the scorpion hops on its back and it begins swimming out across the river."
"See my man, this is us! You're the frog and you can get me outta here!"
"They get to the midpoint of the river, the deepest bit..."
"Enough with the fucking story!"
"And the scorpion stings the frog."
"What? That dude crazy. They're both gonna drown now. Why he gone done that?"
"The frog stops kicking, it's body dying and they both start sinking. And the frog says to the scorpion, 'Why did you do that? Now we're both going to die.'"
"You're not gonna let me go are you?"
"And the scorpion, it turns to the frog and it says, 'It's in my nature. I can't help it.'"
"They both die?"
"They both died."
"Why'd the scorpion do that Officer? He coulda waited 'til they got to the other side."
"It's always the same Lenny. It's in your nature."
|
“I’m telling you man, I am one hundred percent completely innocent!” Daniel yelled as he slammed his handcuffed fists against the gate separating the front row of seats from the back. The officer did not turn his head or speak, but simply looked out the front window of the cruiser into the thunderstorm building outside.
“Look officer, I’ll be honest with you here. Let’s say I DID do what her friend says I did to her. Even in THAT case she’s just a girl. Why the fuck would I even think about doing that to you?” Daniel folded his arms and sighed heavily. “It’s not like I’m gay or anything. You’ll be totally safe with me, I promise. We’re both in this toget-”
“No. We are not,” stated the officer flatly.
“What the fuck do you mean we are not!?” Daniel screamed slouching to slam his feet on the steadfast separator. “You heard for yourself on the radio, they’re all dead! We’re all there is.”
The officer’s hands tightened on the grip of the steering wheel, his face emotionless. His eyes remained empty of the life that had inhabited them only hours ago. Tears began to drip down the side of his face as his lip quivered in anger. He whipped his head around to face Daniel, still struggling in the back of the car.
Before Daniel even knew what was happening, the officer had ripped open the door and pulled him out onto the cold, wet mud placing him on his knees.
“Finally coming to your senses I see” Daniel snickered as a smile crept across his face.
“I guess you could say that,” the officer said as he turned his head, closed his eyes and fired his gun into the back of Daniel’s head killing him instantly.
The officer collapsed on the ground as he clutched the locket that hung from his neck. He opened it up and looked at the withered picture of the girl inside. The life returned to his eyes for a brief moment as he whispered
“Rest in peace now dear.”
| 2014-10-11T12:44:03 | 2014-10-11T12:19:02 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] In the middle of a fight with a known villain, you, the hero are stopped by a young child. “If you fight the bad guy, and the bad guy fights you, and you both break everything as you go, what makes you think you’re any better than him?” Behind the child, you see the villain silently fist pump.
|
“What makes you think you’re any better than him?”
*Better than him?*
*Better than-*
***Better-***
The world seems to bleed away as you focus more and more on the villain, up until the monochrome murderer is all that fills your vision. Over and over, the child’s question rings through your head.
At the other end of the plaza, you can see Stormwind silently fistpump. She must be under the false impression that such a question would be enough to distract you. No, not today. Not after all you’ve been through.
What makes you better than any of the criminals you catch?
For the government, the answer to that question would be absolutely nothing. You can’t count the number of times you’ve had to dodge Section 8 bullets while simultaneously beating down on whatever monster or new villain has cropped up. Official government policy is supposed to be “noninterference”, whatever that means, but the truth was that they couldn’t stand having to rely on third parties to deal with public threats. If the boot lickers had their way, then every single super would be locked up and experimented on just to find out how they worked. You refused to bend the knee, and chose to operate independently without their meddling influence.
For the people, it’s been a constant uphill battle. Your first few outings resulted in more than a few bottles and cans being thrown at you, and persisted up until you pulled your first big bust. That was three months into your career. The sticks and stones stopped, but the online hate grew fiercer than ever. Every single slipup, every little mistake, was relentlessly picked apart until you started avoiding the cameras. Even then, little drones and bugs continued to tail you until you figured out how to manipulate their little electrical signatures and short circuit them. They still persisted to this day, but you’ve grown better at masking your movements.
Now, well, you’ve become enough of a fixture in the city that the residents aren’t actively pushing for your head. Still, a crowd will cheer every time you take a hit, and take photos of every piece of property damage you cause. Nevermind that you just stopped a 12 foot tall rampaging monster, the city will never recover from the loss of those streetlights! You try all you can to ignore the jeers and insults, but you’ve heard enough to know where they stand.
For the villains, well, all that matters is that you stand against them. You are their enemy. They may curse your name, cry it in anger, but you will always be there to catch them. Broadcast, Entropy M, Baelphegor, monsters of old and new, all of them fell by your hand. Nobody knows how superpowers are formed, or why identical twins can have 2 wildly different powers, but yours were practically made for heroism.
It takes only a twitch of a muscle for your body to blur over to where Stormwind is standing, and then shock her with the power of a thunderstorm. Your powers do, thankfully, come with the instinctual knowledge of what the human body’s limits are, and you stop before Stormwind’s heart is anywhere near danger. Still enough to leave her smoking on the floor, however. You blitz back to the kid who asked the question, and look him in the eye. You slowly power down, and time begins to flow normally, but the kid doesn’t even notice you finished the fight. Still, you reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing for emphasis, and say,
“Because, I choose to be better.”
|
‘*...what makes you think you’re any better than him?*’ Morning Glory froze, not for the first time, as she remembered the child’s words. It had been months since that conversation, hours and hours of fighting and despair and triumph and everything in between, but she couldn’t get the phrase out of her head. The words had been just as effective the first time she heard them in a fight against Sunspot, a low-level villain who was known for underground arms dealing. And they had almost cost her the fight, too, the villain fist-pumping and smirking as she stopped in her tracks. (*~~you both break everything. are you any better?~~*)
The child had given Glory a sad, questioning look, as though they had seen the whole world crumble before them and wanted to know why it was fair. (*it wasn’t, it never was, the world was so unfair with how it took and took and took-*) Now, so many months after another piece of her spirit had broken off, lost to the world, Morning Glory hesitated in front of a villain yet again, considering her actions in another face-off. And she couldn’t be doing this now, not when she was about to take down such an important figure, but she was all the same. She remembered how she had crouched down then, ignoring Sunspot in favor of addressing the child.
“*I don’t think I’m better than him. That’s why I keep fighting, because it may be wrong to cause destruction like Sunspot and other villains, but it’s better to hurt buildings than people. I am not better but my cause is. I want to protect, whereas villains want to hurt innocent people like you and your loved ones. They want to take away everything people work for, and that’s not okay. So I try to stop them, and to avoid damaging things as I go, but I never think I’m better than them, because I know I make mistakes and mess up sometimes. You know, it’s not safe for you to be here. Where are your parents? Are you here alone?*”
And the child made a face then, even worse than when they asked that painful question, and said to her ‘*I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in a while.*’ Morning Glory noticed then that Sunspot was gone, as was a majority of the rifles that had been laid out on the table in the house they were fighting in. She’d catch him later, she supposed, but there were other priorities now. And days later, after the child had been placed in foster care and Sunspot had been tracked down once again, he shot her a smug look from where he kneeled on the floor in handcuffs.
“*Well, Morning Glory, are you better than me?*” he laughed as he was carted away by police, but she just looked around at the wreck that was the city block they had fought in. She stayed there for a while, after the police had come and collected all evidence, after clean-up crews started removing debris to prepare to rebuild, long, long after the sunset. And Morning Glory cried, and cried, and got up again to keep going.
Now, sitting quietly in the rafters of a villain’s hideout, she shook her head and set her shoulders. The plan had been made to be as harmless as possible while apprehending such a dangerous person. There was nothing to do now but go forward and hope. She may not have been better, but she tried, and that was enough.
| 2021-04-18T08:42:11 | 2021-04-18T06:59:42 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] America is discovered in the year 2000: The Maya, Aztec and Native Americans have evolved to a new kind of modern society, without any prior western influence.
|
‘Storyteller,’ I whispered. Try as I might, tonight sleep would not come. ‘Storyteller,’ I said again speaking as loud as I dared as so not to wake anyone else.
Storyteller opened his eyes a crack upon hearing his name. He appeared set to shut them again perhaps thinking he’d only heard his name in a dream.
‘Speak Storyteller,’ I said again and Storyteller raised his eyelids wide. ‘Storyteller, tell me of the Great Peace and the Council of the 10,000 Sons.’
Storyteller’s eyes sparkled, for this tale he has told often. Storyteller’s eyes quickly darted around the large sleeping hall and seeing no one’s eyes but mine open, Storyteller began his tale in a hush, an excited hush, but a hush nonetheless.
‘The Great Peace began, as all Peaces must, with war, when the Empire of Pyramid Builders first encountered the men who came from across the Great Sea. They said they were emissaries from the King of Spn. We would call him Great Chief, this man they called king. They claimed to come in peace but brought death. They sailed away with gold and many of the treasures of the Empire. The Great Chiefs of the Pyramid Builders knew they would come again and if they came to the lands of the Pyramids, surely they would come to other points along the Great Sea. The Chiefs gathered and decided, guided surely by Power, to send the sons of all their tribes and cities to warn and treat with their Northern Brothers. The Pyramid Builders and People of the Lakes had never been allies, but so great was the threat the Great Chiefs felt that all of the Peoples must come together.
‘They met at the Great Mounds of the River People for the River People traded with both the Pyramid Builders and People of the Lakes and could be, it was hoped, intermediaries should the need arise.
‘And soon did that need arise. Quickly the reason of the Council of the 10,000 Sons was forgotten as old and petty rivalries flared and disputes loomed that could doom the Council. So long they bickered, that some joked this great meeting of the People would be remembered as the Council of the 10,000 Suns.
‘Eventually the wisest of the Sons won out, guided no doubt by Power, with the argument that as we bicker as Brothers, the Great Chiefs from across the Sea could marshal forces and cross the waters. For the Pyramid Builders had learned that the men of Spn had left to fight the men of those called Kings in Franz and Inglnd. Could these Kings not come together in Council as we have and set aside differences, the argument went.
‘So it came to be that the longboats that plied the icy Gitchegumee joined the reed boats of the Pyramid Builders to cross the Great Sea in the boldest, largest fleet the People had ever known.
‘I should pause here, ‘ Storyteller digressed, ‘to speak of the People of the Plains and Mountains. Following the Council of the 10,000 Sons, emissaries were sent to the Pueblos and to find the People Who Roamed After Buffalo. But these People would not join our cause. *If your threat comes from the Great Eastern Sea, then that is your fight. We see no threat to our ways. The Great Western Sea has never threatened us,* they said. So the Empire and the People of the Lakes, now confederated under the Iroquois, fought together alone. The story of how the People of the Plains and Mountains were joined to us is sad, bloody and best saved for another time.
‘When our Warriors crossed the Great Sea it was as the Pyramid Builders described. The Great Chiefs of Urope were waging war against one another. Their warriors has decimated each other with their swords. When our People besieged with our arrows, slings and atlatl, the men of the Kings were so broken from their previous fighting they offered little resistance.
‘The Great Chiefs, these men who called themselves kings, met with the People at a place they called Var-Zy which was a palace of great gold and wealth in the Kingdom they called Franz. The Great Chiefs of Spn and Franz and of Inglnd laid sword and crown at the feet of our Warriors.
‘Warriors sent word across the Great Sea and a Great Council of the Victorious Chiefs sailed and met at the place called Pariz, which was also in Franz. The Great Chiefs surveyed this new land called Urope. They found cold northern lands that well suited the Iroquois. The warm waters of Urope’s Southern Sea delighted the Pyramid Builders. But it was over control of Franz that the Great Council threatened to break. For all Great Chiefs wanted the treasures of Var-Zy, and the sweet grapes found along the Great Sea.
‘The Chiefs...spoke to their elders...sought an equitable...’ I looked up as Storyteller slowed then paused in his telling. I saw his eyes were looking at me tired, I could almost see Power draining from them. It was late, and Storyteller was not young. All things age and so fails their Power, the Elders are so often to remind us.
‘Rest, Storyteller,’ for I knew the remainder of the tale.
At the command Storyteller closed his eyes slowly as the Power left his body.
I picked up Storyteller to set under my cot as I rolled over to attempt sleep again. *I’ve had Storyteller speak on the Council of the 10,000 Sons so many times I should be ready for tomorrow’s history test,* I thought as I drifted off. *If I don’t know the tale by now, I never will.*
*And I must remember to ask the Elders for a new Storyteller on the next Day of My New Sun.*
|
My first post on WP, be nice.
"Captain, wake up!"
It's Kenny, he's shaking my shoulders violently. There is a commotion coming from the bridge.
"W-ww-what is it?"W I say, groggy and eyes half closed.
"We don't know, Jack thinks that it's land."
If it is land, that is a life saver. We've been lost in the Pacific for a little over a week now. We set sail from Sydney a fortnight ago, headed for French Polynesia, but a cyclone took out our electrical systems (storm surge-powered waves crashed into the generator room) and we have been driving blind in the storms since.
I walk out of my captains' quarters, not bothering to put on my coat or hat. It just looks like more cloudy weather at first glance, so I ask Jack to hand me the binoculars.
"One o'clock, right on the horizon. Possibly land." He informs me.
I look through the binoculars, while adjusting the focus. After a quick search I spot it. It is hard to tell whether it is land or more storms, but I decide that it's not getting any better.
"To your stations, everybody. We're going to whatever that is."
~half an hour later~
**Ccrrruuuunkkkk** The ship shakes and vibrates violently, and comes to a stop.
"What the fuck was that!" Screams Jack.
"Grounded." I say, disappointed and starting to panic. Before it gets any worse I disconnect the hydraulics connecting the engine to the propellers, and order Kenny down to shut down the engine manually (we have to do it such due to the lack of electricity). We are probably a mile or so out, but the rain has stopped, and the wind has died down.
"I'll prepare the lifeboat?" asks Jack.
"Absolutely. I'll send up a flare. I think we've landed somewhere on the coast of China, or the Philippines." But in actual fact, I have no idea where we are. I have assumed we were heading eastwards, and the land here seems to be rather mountainous and tropical.
~another 20 minutes~
We've been walking along the shore for ages, and no signs of anyone. Suddenly, Kenny screams and collapses. Jack and I jump back in surprise. Just to bring more confusion and suprise, approximately one hundred people come out of the forest, holding out long sticks in our direction. A few of them have the sticks up to their mouths. They people here have a slight tan to their skin, and a bit of an Asian influence. But they don't seem Philippine. One man stands out among them, he has blue paint in streaks along his face. These people remind me of the Aboriginals that inhabited Australia, for some reason.
The man with the blue paint (who I assume is their leader), puts his hand up in our direction, and the other men lower their sticks. I quickly come to realise that those sticks are weapons. I hold my hand out towards the man, who is probably about 20 metres away from us, on the edge of the treeline at the top of the beach. He cautiously advances towards us, and I try to make my self seem as least threatening as possible.
"Dude... just... no sudden movements, ok" I say to Jack.
"I think I'm frozen in fear anyways. I need to help Kenny though"
I completely forgot about that. I glance over at Kenny. He is on his back and motionless, but I can see his chest rising and falling - he is still breathing. I look back up at the group of men. The leader is very close. He holds his hand out too. I go to shake his hand, but the movement frightens him, and he jerks his hand back quickly. I move my hand back closer to myself. I have to let him make the move. He is staring at my arms and legs strangely. A few of his friends walk up to me.
The leader slowly brings up his hand, and (reluctantly) touches my arm briefly. It occurs to me that he might be confused by my skin colour. Maybe he has never seen white man before. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my neck, and everything goes blurry. I feel very dizzy, and I forget.
I wake up in a large open area, and I quickly realise that there is a huge amount of people around me. They are all cheering, and I slowly try to get to my feet. My shoulders are grabbed tightly by two short men. They have red paint all over their faces, and they bring me up to something that seems familiar to me. "Snoo, Snoo, Snoo" the people chant quietly and methodically.
The figure says "Le reddit army had found you. While you were gone we scanned your brain and we analyzed your karma. Unfortunately, you have very little. Therefore we must send you to the Gods." The figure chucks me down a hole, and I brace preparing to hit the bottom.
Still falling.
Still falling.
Still falling.
Suddenly, numbers, and words. Am I in the matrix? Suddenly I hear a voice. "You are the first outsider to learn the truth. For years, your 'Western' people have sinned by taking advantage of and using the spirit of our world. You have been tearing us apart and rearranging us. You have been making your own sinful subs. You have taken our gold. The only reason we are still here is because of the Azreddits. Their civilisation has been helping us, rebuilding the forces of karma.
It's up to you to go back to your world, and tell the people to stop taking advantage of our world.
| 2014-12-11T19:03:48 | 2014-12-11T18:56:42 | 23 | 15 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work.
|
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Mom, I'll be fine! It's not like I'll be eaten by a lion or something."
Eleanor Carlson sighed over the phone. She loved her daughter to death, but she could be, to put it mildly, headstrong at times. "Of course you won't, but that wasn't what I'm concerned about. Haven't you heard the rumors?"
"Rumors?" said April Carlson. "What rumors?"
"Rumors of... strange things, in parts of Africa and Asia. People turning into creatures, sort of like that little thing we had a few years back. I read it in the tabloids."
April couldn't help but laugh. "The tabloids? Well that explains it, then. I thought I told you to stop buying those, anyway."
"I didn't *buy* it, I read it in line at the supermarket." Mrs. Carlson sighed again, but this time away from the phone. "Honey... I just want you to be safe, okay? I have a bad feeling about this trip."
Though her mother couldn't see it over the telephone, April softly smiled. "I know, mom. You just want the best for me, and I've always respected that. But I've dreamt of this trip ever since I was a little girl, and I've been saving up for a long time now. It's been a little harder with travel restrictions, but I have all the paperwork. I'm ready."
Mrs. Carlson closed her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, but then found her voice:
"Okay, love. But call me when you get there, okay?"
"Of course. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetie."
_____
*To whom it may concern:*
*It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that a member of your family, April Elizabeth Carlson, has been reported deceased in the city of Antananarivo. The cause of death has been determined as the Cordyceps infection, brought upon by contraction sometime within the past 48 hours.*
*On behalf of the United States government, we offer our deepest condolences for your loss. Her body, regrettably, cannot be recovered for burial in the United States, but we have received word it has been properly laid to rest.*
*In accordance with the law, a sum of 500 dollars, the standard reparation for Cordyceps related death, has been entrusted to you for your loss.*
|
"It's a question of energy, Matthews." John slammed his fists onto the presidents desk.
"It's a question of death..." replied President Matthews calmly. He raised his eyes to meet the zealot's gleam of the younger man. The ticket has been a match of convenience, and how the former Senator from Colorado was deeply regretting that appeal to his party's base. "I will not-"
"It's a question of life. Our lives. Working people's lives. More energy means more things means a better life for all of us, all our kids."
"I understand the climate change argument, but..."
"To restrict warming below 2C we need to reduce energy consumption by 18%. That is not happening with an expanding developing world. It's simply not, Matthews! Do you know how many jobs we'd lose if we artificially reduce growth? Do you understand how many good hard-working blue-collar family's we'd hit? And after all that pain, we'd still be faced with declining incomes. More Americans in poverty. More American children in poverty. To save the planet either we reduce our consumption or their..."
"lives?"
"their access to Nato assistance ends."
"And the drugs?"
"Naturally we cannot allow that either. It's simply pragmatic to let the fire..." He moved away from the President towards the window his eyes skimming the e-mail he'd just received. "...run it's course," he trailed off.
He turned around, smiling - a wolfish, gleaming grin.
"It's God will after all."
"Is it? John, this ends. Now. This goes too far. Either you accommodate yourself to the policy of *my* administration or resign. "
"I expected that. You would never have the courage to act."
The president rose.
"What have you done?" Anger and sudden fear danced across his face. "Tell me, this instant!"
"We infected China with the accelerated version of the zombie virus we cooked up."
"We must warn then. We must save then."
"How? Save then, save the world and you face the rage of billions, not their gratitude. This is an act of war. Save China and for a certainty you start WW3, Matthews. It'll be nuclear. Nuclear. Do you really want to kill the world?"
Matthews fell back stunned.
"Or be it's savior?" John finished.
| 2016-10-30T12:21:24 | 2016-10-30T12:02:47 | 186 | 93 |
[WP] It was supposed to be an easy burglary. Husband left for work at 6, kid left for school at 7, and the wife left for shopping at 12. You go in at 12:30 to grab a TV and some jewelry. Breaking in and finding the husband, kid, and wife hanging from the ceiling was definitely not part of the plan.
[removed]
|
"Well...um...f-ck."
Words escaped me. None of it made any sense. Everything was business as usual this morning. Husband left on time, kid was out the door, wife locked up as she got the second car warmed up. I watched them leave, ensuring the house was empty.
*I watched them leave, ensuring the house was empty.*
So...*why are they hanging from the ceiling??*
The house looked the same as always. TV on the stand, looks like they didn't have the confidence or the desire to drill it into the wall. Couch neatly placed. Safe amateurishly hidden in the corner. Tables, end tables, all the tables, everything was just in the same place as it was yesterday. Clean. Pristine. Kinda fresh, like Listerine.
*Plus the f-cking bodies hanging from the f-cking ceiling.*
Nothing registered in my brain. I guess I should have been hyperventilating, maybe I was, I couldn't tell. I know, *I know* for a f-cking *fact* that the family left the house. *I watched them go.* I memorized their faces, their physical traits, just so that I could recognize when they're outside, redundancy for the heist. They are not in the house today.
Except that they are.
The ceiling doesn't lie.
But then, my shaken mind realized, if this family is hanging right in front of me...then...who did I watch this morning...?
A *click* from the door behind me jolted me out of paralysis. My head slowly turning on my neck. I watched as the door opened one inch at a time.
And learned *what* replaced my planned victims that day.
|
It was supposed to be an easy job. You just had to rob this family's house, as the father owed money to your hirer, and needed to get the money. You knew about the safe in the space between the floorboards, and where its passcode is. "Top floor, to the right, under the dresser" you repeated in your head. You had spent several weeks planning and watching, analyzing the family's everyday schedule and you knew that the entire family was gone by 12:30 AM. It was go time. You slowly pick the back doors lock, and it opens by a crack, no sign of a soul. Perfect. You creep into the house, prepared to start taking stuff when you see it. The family is still in the house. *Dead.* You almost scream, but you stop yourself. You have to keep your cool. You started to examine the bodies, as you still have to get the money and report as much information to the hirer. The entire family was hung, suspended by their necks. The ropes they used were bolted to the ceiling and were made of what looked like wire. You continue through the house, being careful just incase it *wasn't* a family suicide. Everything was clean, not a speck out of place. It was almost like this meticulously planned out in such a way there would leave no trace. You feel increasing paranoia as you head to the room with the safe. You feared what you would find. What you did find was even more scary that the bodies. *Yourself...*
&#x200B;
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First comment on here :) needs a proofread, not the greatest either
| 2020-10-18T06:52:32 | 2020-10-18T03:09:54 | 117 | 35 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed.
|
I held the gun to my head, my finger grazing the trigger. I was hesitating, I knew that. Guess that's normal when you're contemplating blowing your brains out.
But, I had to know. Ever since I broke my leg, it was the one thing I knew I had to try. One thing you should know is that I'm a "gamer". I don't like using that word, but it's the easiest way to say that I play videogames. Assassin's Creed, Bioshock, Mario and Fire Emblem are some of my favorites.
Well, the day I broke my leg, I was playing football with some buddies from college. I was running with the ball in hand, tripped and had a nasty fall. Before I knew it, I was on the ground screaming like a dying whale. Some of my friends laughed, assholes, but one brought me some alchohol. I suppose he tought it would help with the pain, for some reason. Whatever. The thing is, once I gulped it down, I was fine. I could move my leg again. The others passed it off as me being a big baby and just slightly spraining it, but I knew I had broken it.
Later that day, out of morbid curiosity, I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and cut myself with a knife. It wasn't a serious cut, just a surface wound on my finger, but it stung like hell. I drank some of the beer and, just like that, it was gone.
At first, I thought that the alcohol was magic. Or that I was going nuts. Freaked out, I went to bed inmediately and tried to not think about it. The next day, I woke up and passed of last night's events as a dream. That, however, didn't last long.
On my way to work, something bizarre happened. The people... they were glowing in different colors. Most of them were blue. I saw some red pass by, and noticed that they were cops. I closed my eyes and shaked my head. It was back to normal. Just then, I saw a car speeding towards me. Later I learned that the person had lost control. It was too fast. No matter what I did it would have hit me. My first reaction was to jump over it, so I jumped. I jumped six feet in the air.
I didn't go to work that day. Called in sick. I went home, and a wild idea starting forming in my head. What if... playing videogames have given me these powers? Drinking alcohol to recover health like in Bioshock, Eagle Sense from Assassin's Creed and the jumping prowess of Mario.
So, I figured, what's the thing all videogames have in common? You can't die. If you gameover, you just load an earliet save. So, that's where I am. Holding a gun to my head to prove my theory. Is there a less extreme way to do it? Maybe. But I need to know. My curiosity is killing me.
I am determined. I press on the trigger. A thought crosses my mind as I do it.
"What about Fire Emblem's permadeath?"
|
"Hey Bryan, I, uh, was wondering if you, uh, would like to go to the winter formal with me? Only if you wanted to! I guess."
Elena was just another nobody at Eisenhower High School. Around 5'2, short dark brown hair, with typical dark brown eyes. Elena never stuck out or did anything exciting. She went to class, ate lunch, bitched about whatever anyone else was bitching, and go home and play hours of video games and then repeat.
"Oh, hey Ellie! I would have loved to but Emily already asked me, about 10 minutes ago. I'm sorry!"
Bryan was your typical teenage heart throb. 6'2, light brown medium length hair with natural waves, and beautiful ocean blue eyes. He was the vice-president for student council, he ran track and played basketball, and he and his family always had a volunteer charity work going on. He was always paying attention and asking interesting questions in class, keeping everyone involved and engaged. Everything about him was perfect.
"Oh, no problem."
With a twitch of Elena's hand everyone stops what they're doing in an instant. Every single person except Elena closes their eyes. She sighs. "It took me all day to build up the courage to ask you and you already have a date? Damn it."
She sits down in frustration contemplating what to do. With a 10 minute timer on how long her pause lasts, she had to figure out what to do.
Elena had saved at lunch, but that started about 5 minutes ago. It would be too late to go back to then. She *had* planned asking him this morning, but hours of practicing in the mirror on what she would say did nothing to settle her nerves. After days of practicing her new abilities she had noticed that there were only 20 time slots to save. She limited the time she would save to when she wakes up, right as lunch is starting, and as soon as she gets out of school. To minimize the cluster fuck of images in her head from a pause menu to a control guide. She decided the best thing to do was to just start the day from scratch and ask him as soon as she gets to school. That will give her more time to look nice and giver her time to practice what she would say.
Elena twitched her hand to the time slot and she passed out.
After opening her eyes she tried to remember what had happened. She quickly jumped up and checked the time. Realized she still had two hours, and started getting to work. A shower, 200 make up tutorials watched, and 14 rewinds later, she was exhausted. She looked amazing, she had plenty of practice and her confidence felt like it could ask Bryan out for her.
Elena gets to school and spots Bryan talking with a group of his friends at the school entrance. There he is, his gorgeous blue eyes glancing over her way. She practically glides to where he is sitting and with a straight back and a beautiful smile begins her question.
"Hey Bryan, I was wondering if you would like to go to the school dance with me?"
Suddenly, her eyes shut and she froze.
| 2018-08-14T09:41:03 | 2018-08-14T08:58:51 | 658 | 48 |
[WP] As the demon stared at the mortal who summoned it, all that could be heard was a sigh before the words, "You do realize this is a marriage proposal, right?"
|
This had to be the third summoning in a week, Luciel rolled his eyes and put on his coat, “I’ll be back in 10.”
Alastor gave him a pitying smile, “A new occult horror flick probably came out, the hype will die in about a week.”
“I hope. I don’t think I can stand another rejection and accompanying look of complete disbelief. It was just yesterday some barely 19 year old chick told me ‘you’re not my type’, like? Me? All powerful demon who rules the third district of the underworld?,” his voice rose several pitches, “‘Not your type?' Well missy, I’m not into blondes very much either? Would you consider that?” He huffed, pushing open the door.
At the other side, he was greeted with the sight of two barely legal girls, hands held together whilst they stood in a pentagram drawn with what looked like two different shades of red paint. He sighed, waiting for them to open their eyes and realised their ceremony actually worked.
“Uh, guys, was he always here?” a third voice spoke from behind him. Luciel jumped, quickly looking behind him. The guy appeared to be older than the girls, expression tinged with curiosity at Luciel’s appearance.
“Oh fuck did it work? Hey are you a demon?”, the shorter of the girls questioned him. Luciel felt no fear coming from the humans around him. ‘Have demons and angels fallen so far as to not be even considered a threat by human beings?’
Tentatively, Luciel cleared his throat. He summoned a fireball in his right hand, letting his horns grow out and show — “Yes, I’m a demon. And,” he sighs, "that summoning you just did was a marriage proposal.”
For a few moments, the dusty room was filled with nothing but silence then the excited chatter of the two girls began to rise. “Oh my god can you believe we actually summoned a demon?”, “Wait until we film a vlog on this, we’re gonna get like, a million views!”
Luciel watched as the two girls went up the stairs, chattering between themselves. This was the worst outright dismissal he’d ever receive and he sighed for what seemed like the tenth time this day already. ‘Maybe it’s the tacky pinstriped coat.’, he thought.
“Hey, uhm,” Luciel turned behind all but forgetting about the man who was standing behind him. “I’m Zen, marriage is a bit too sudden for my tastes but would dinner at 8pm on Friday be okay?”
“Uh ah, I’m Luciel.”, he stammered, his name card appearing with a sudden flash of flames on his palm. He passes it to Zen, his stomach twisted into little knots. “And, uh, Friday? Sounds? Good, actually.” In return, Zen beams a smile that could make any demon melt in their feet. Maybe being summoned wasn’t so bad after all.
|
"You do realize this is a marriage proposal, right?" She looked up at him with a quirked smile.
*I... Do not speak to me that way, mortal.* The words slipped through her mind like water, filling her mind with his rasping breath. His hands, shadowy and dark with slender finger-like tendrils, moved towards his face uncomfortably.
The girl in front of him — and she was that, just a girl — rolled her eyes. "Sweetheart, you're inside the circle. I can talk how I want."
The curled horns on his head made a sickening *crack* noise as they grew, spiraling larger. *You may do no such thing, you speck of consciousness, you tiny vessel of life overshadowed by the greatness of the universe.*
"Marry me."
*Wha— No. No, a creature such as myse— What are you doing?*
She'd scooted forward, one perfectly manicured fingernail touching the salt of the circle that acted as a barrier between them. "Hm? Oh, nothing."
*Do you— Are you—* As each flustered word punctured her mind from a different angle, his horns retracted back into his head.
"Please?"
*I am aware that a mind so tiny cannot process even the most logical information, but you must know that releasing me from the circle would allow me to attack you.* He took a step backwards on hooved feet; the smoky features sharpened into focus, and she could make out an aquiline nose. The demon had thin, downturned lips with fangs protruding into them.
The girl's eyes widened, then she shook her head hastily and looked at the floor. "I'm not stupid," she said almost softly. "I know what happens when you break the circle. Marry. Me."
*No! You are most certainly not in a position to negotiate, child. It would be in your best interest to banish me before your foolish actions have disastrous consequences.*
She slid her finger across the salt, pushing a bit of the circle inwards. Then she blew on it.
It scattered.
The circle was broken.
For a few seconds, the demon stared at her. His face was unreadable, and there was a strange look in his blood-red eyes. *I— You are—* He moved forward uncertainly. *Before I... kill you* — he'd tripped over the phrase — *tell me: why, child?*
"I deserve the pain."
The thin lips curved upwards. *You would be incapable of tolerating Hell.*
She blinked in surprise. "What?"
*Whatever you have done —*
"I've done so many horrible, cruel things, Mr. Demon, you— "
*You're only human, child.*
And he stepped out of the circle.
----
^I ^was ^really ^tempted ^to ^make ^her ^be ^like ^"just ^a ^prank ^bro" ^at ^the ^end
| 2017-02-11T18:20:44 | 2017-02-11T18:05:26 | 247 | 112 |
[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.
|
The human smiled playfully. "So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?"
"That is all," I said with a hoarse voice. We hadn't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
"You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial," I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
"What is your answer? We haven't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return."
"Has the United Nations made a decision?" The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. "You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us."
"And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?"
"Yes."
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. "Twelve percent."
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer.
|
The response below is the prequel to a story I wrote for another prompt found here: http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2j42eh/wp_humanity_is_the_only_race_in_the_galaxy_with/cl8i9yy
Enjoy! And as always, please criticize as much as you can - I need it!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meditating in this room, with its crystalline throne and specialized hydrogen atmosphere, had always put me at peace before. I had ordered the burning of entire planets, demanded that entire fleets of ships be sacrificed to stall an enemy advance, and asked for whole cities to commit ritual sacrifice from this room. All of that paled in comparison to what I was about to do now, and I doubt I will have any peace in the years to come.
Humanity had always been an oddball race in the galaxy. With the invention of their Kines-Alcubierre Drive, their presence in the galaxy grew like a menacing cancer. Full of war and hate and astonishingly quick technological progress, they quickly butted heads with their alien neighbors. While I'm glad that my people, the T'vana, weren't the first to discover human violence firsthand, I can't help but feel that it might have helped us to learn their ways. Their fundamental differences - borne out by a rare evolutionary path in which they evolved sentience as *individuals* instead of a collection of hiveminds - could have saved us if we had only bothered to learn from them. But the other species in this galaxy, the ten civilizations that feared humanity's abilities, stifled them instead. With warships and sanctions, we stifled them until they were fenced into a third of the galaxy we all share.
But now there are only 4 of the original 10 species left. The others are all gone, scattered in refugee fleets or cowering in hidden asteroid bases. All hoping that the Enemy, the REAL nemesis that we should have seen coming, overlooks them. For all the condescension that we showed towards the humans because of their warlike ways, we need them. None of us know how to wage cold, dirty war on a grand scale. The Shuri never moved past dueling as a suitable method of settling disputes, while the Heela refused to even touch weapons. Both species are now seen as museum pieces; things to be treasured for the short time they have left. The Kaavari aliens from beyond the galactic border do not see chivalry as something to be admired.
So now I, possibly the last Emperor of the T'vana, am giving humanity the one thing they've never been able to develop. Their Kines-Alcubierre machines can travel a hundred times the speed of light, but ours...our ship drives shift *instantly*. If the Terran Empire could fight their way through and colonize a third of the galaxy with such a limited drive, I truly shudder to think of what they will do with this.
I am sorry, my people. May we go together into the dark, for I fear that humanity will have taken all the light when this is done.
| 2014-12-26T12:23:02 | 2014-12-26T12:09:55 | 70 | 30 |
[WP] 20 years ago, a mysterious illness caused everyone to go deaf, and life has been altered to accommodate it since. You just found the cure, and decide to use it on yourself. As your hearing returns, you instantly regret making that decision.
|
The farting. Every day of my life, the farting.
We know what it feels like, know what it smells like, but I never expected the noise. The smell you can blame on others, the smell you can learn to forget about. But the noise, the noise of the farting is everywhere. I was sitting in my office the other day and my boss walked in and they were talking about daily profits or some shit I dunno man, all I know is that they farted five times in a row without even realising what they were doing to me. I thought this cure would be a revolution, I thought I would be heralded as some modern hero, but I realise now that if I release this cure to the world I will be known more than just "This Generation's First Hearing Man", my Titles will include "The Man Who Heard Fart, And Who Let The World Hear Fart"
(I really don't know what I was doing with this, it's 4:40AM and I'm watching House and I'm feeling a little giddy)
|
The cure wasn't easy. Martha was hard of hearing before the Silence, so she was supposed to be a good candidate. A team from Johns Hopkins separated the thin layers of her eardrums and carfully replaced the tiny inner bones.
"Fast onset osteoporosis," was the explanation, "possibly from contact from infected sources." The source was unknown but tore through the world and she woke up and the flat thing she heard was the soft movment of her body in the hospital bed. The sheets scrached and there was sound from it. Nearby a few machines hummed. A roar of water. The toilet.
They let her out four days later.
Outside was a wall; shill birdsong and the rumbled of car wheels and the confusion from her body, the moans and growls and odd pops of her joints. It was too much. She wanted the quiet back.
| 2016-07-28T16:48:45 | 2016-07-28T12:38:56 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] As a vampire, I follow traditions. My fiancé is human and just found out that human brides/grooms are to be bit to become a vampire themselves. She absolutely refuses to let that happen, and says the wedding is off unless I refuse to bite her. I feel like she's disrespecting tradition. AITA?
|
PSHAW!!!! My first wife was mortal. We loved with a burning passion. She was a beauty beyond compare and in my eyes a heart so pure I could not bring myself to turn her, yet in her dotage she begged me and I relented. I watched as my immortal kiss returned my love the beauty of her youth and i was pleased.
Years and decades passed and I watched as my loves pure heart turned cold and I am still, millennia later, cleaning up after her. She loves having an Elder as cleaner. I, not so much!
So to you youngling, I would think again about the responsibility of turning your mortal wife. You might bite off more than you can chew!
ps. Don't chew, it's unseemly
Yours forever,
~~Vlad.~~
|
NTA. How presumptuous of that… harlot to look upon the gift of vampirism and turn away! Does she understand how incredibly rare it is for us immortals to deign to add another to our number?! This is like telling someone they’ve won the lottery and having them say “Nah”. Not to mention the sheer selfishness! “Oh honey, I hope you understand, I just want you to stay young and hot forever while I age out of my looks, until I die and you have to remember me for the rest of your immortal existence!” I bet if you asked her for a prenup she’d also try to give you an ultimatum. She’s using you honey. The humans always do. I’d recommend leaving her and finding yourself a proper vampire woman.
| 2022-11-28T19:02:28 | 2022-11-28T18:21:15 | 104 | 41 |
[WP] Turns out Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew.
|
"Do you have anything to declare?"
"...No?"
"You seem hesitant sir, are you certain?"
"Well... maybe, I don't know."
"Sir, this is a yes or no question."
"Okay... say, hypothetically, a ship visited a liquid water bearing planet... and gathered some biomass for research."
"...Oh?"
"AND, and let's say... 60 cycles later they, hypothetically, discovered a uh... dwelling?"
"A dwelling? On the planet?"
"No, uh... on the ship. In a... cabinet."
"Okay... so you found a nest or something, clearly you picked up a few lifeforms so if You'd let m-"
"-N-No! I mean... It wasn't a nest. It was more of a... city."
"..."
"...Made of office supplies and testing equipment."
"When you say city..."
"They have a working septic system and three cinemas. HYPOTHETICALLY! I mean."
"Are they... hypothetically, are they a nuisance?"
"They fixed our warp drive for some protein rations."
"I... thank you for docking at Star Platform 9. Have a pleasant stay."
|
Except that these particular humans aboard the Vorn generation ship forgot about whence they came. They never knew a life of sailing along the moon beams of Alactra or bathing beneath the sand falls of Saint Silloux. Terra is no longer a whisper in the collective memory of these unwitting space voyagers. Matter of fact, until today, they didn't even know that there was a larger word above their home, known only on Vorn schematics as Vessel 2b of Exchanger Fin 1 of Sub\-Section 11 of Waste Recovery System 145601.a. Theirs was a world of unpredictable, undulating shadows, roiling storms of steam, violent shifts of temperature, and the dissonance of sound waves long forgotten by their highly\-developed ears. They never knew a life without these things and they never questioned that there was anyone or anything beyond the confines of Vessel 2b. That is, until their children began to vanish and one dared to ask the question, "Where have they gone?"
| 2018-05-30T16:07:47 | 2018-05-30T11:13:39 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead.
|
They looked tired, incredibly so. I felt bad for them, I knew what they were going through, I had been going through that same process for ages now. It wasn't the same though, I was built differently. This little hunk of rock where the three of us stood was the last bastion of life in the universe. The crunch had begun a while ago, but to me it seemed like only yesterday.
"You," Lucifer said, chuckling. "You were surprisingly hard to find. This wouldn't have happened a couple of years ago."
"What's time anyways?" I asked, smiling. "A couple of years don't really mean much at this point."
The gorgeous man nodded before glancing up at the sky. It didn't look the way it was supposed to. This planet should've had an atmosphere similar to Earth's, where it all started, but in this moment, as the entire universe engulfed it, it was surrounded by the greatest firework show ever to exist.
"Well," God said, His voice granfatherly yet clearly exhausted. "It's time for you to come with us."
I shook my head.
"The universe is ending, little one," God told me. "There is not much time left for us."
Lucifer's eyes darted towards God, but he didn't say anything. I could tell that the fallen angel was scared. As scared as a mere mortal would've felt. God Himself wasn't scared, he was all-knowing, all-powerful. Well, almost. Much like Lucifer, God didn't know what was going to happen next and that meant that he couldn't control it either.
"There's not much time left," I agreed, sitting down on a rock. "But you're not here for me."
"What do you mean?" God asked.
Lucifer realized who I was first. The nature of his job meant that he was more intimately familiar with what I was. We had never interacted directly, but the cynical and jaded angel knew me as well as anyone. That doesn't mean much, but it was a curious surprise.
"So we are mere mortals after all, then."
God may have not known me as well, but He was no slouch in the deduction department either.
"Huh," he muttered. "I can honestly say I never expected this to happen."
I shrugged slightly. "You guys usually don't."
The two of them looked at each other. "A cycle?"
"Endless," I confirmed.
"So we'll come back?" Lucifer asked.
"No," I said sighing sadly. "Each universe is self contained, infinitely similar and infinitely different from the last."
"That's a paradox," God said, smiling. "So you can't stop this then?"
I shook my head.
The two entities looked at each other. For eons they had been the singular most powerful forces in the entirety of the universe. God had given Lucifer powers that no other angel had ever had. Their mission had gone exactly the way God had planned it to and humanity reached its true potential. It was a damn shame that it had coincided with the end of the universe. A damn shame.
"We did well," God told Lucifer. "I'm proud of you."
"Someone had to be the bad guy," Lucifer replied, tears forming in his eyes.
"It's time," I told them as the planet began to rumble.
"What happens next?" God asked. The irony of that question was lost to no one.
I shrugged. "Even I don't know."
Lucifer cleared his throat. "Let's move this along shall we?"
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before walking towards me. God placed his arm around Lucifer, embracing him like a son for the first time since he had cast him down from Heaven. Lucifer hesitated before returning the gesture, patting God's shoulder twice before closing his eyes.
I approached them and placed my hands in either of their shoulders. An instant was all it took and they were gone. I only had a few more instants before the universe collapsed upon itself. I spent them briefly wondering where the two entities would go after dying. Maybe they would simply cease existing, taking all human souls to the void with them, or maybe they would go to a higher Heaven. It was a mystery that I had long since come to terms with.
"All's well that ends well," I said as the universe exploded outwards yet again.
|
G: Lucifer, look at him. After all those deeds we have done, they should have had some influence in on the life of a mere mortal.
L: Yes, but this one seems to have avoided every decision, which would have pushed is balance in the one or other direction. What shall we do with him?
G: I don’t want him. Those who have not redeemed their selves in their time on earth are not welcome in my realm. You may take him.
L: You give up so easily? Hrmm, I would have expected more resistance of you. You’re growing old. Come with me, mortal. *He turned to leave*
Me: No. Listen, Lucifer.
*A smile hushed over God’s face*
L:HOW DARE YOU TO RAISE YOUR VOICE AGAINST YOUR LORD, WORM!?
Me: You are no Lord of mine, Lucifer. Don’t you see?
*Lucifer raises his arm in fury, but hesitates in the last moment* “See what?”
Me: Who I am, What … I am. No, how could you. Just as the humans were incapable of grasping what you are, as both of you walked between them, how can I expect of you to understand the essence of my being? I walked the earth, as Eden was created as a drop of water, when Adam and Eve were banished I was a cat. When you destroyed Babel I witnessed it as a bird. In the following millennia I walked the earth in many shapes. I have seen all your deeds, all your failings. And all that is left now are you and me.
*The smile in God’s face has vanished*
Me: Have you never wondered who created you?
*Lucifer looks at God, for he was one of his angels*
G: I have always been - I will always be. How dare you, ask such a question?
L: What you’re telling is blasphemous! Bwahaha! Hilarious, look at his face.
G: All you have, all you are, is because of me, Lucifer. I allowed you to become powerful. You’re a tool and –
Me: There is no reason for light, when there is no darkness, is it,God? Just as he is a creation of you, you are mine.
L: What are you?
Me: Death. Life. Change. I am the *alpha* and the *omega* *a smile hushes over my lips* I have many names and none, because no word has been invented, to describe me. There is nothing to put me in perspective. I don’t experience the flow of time, like you. Spatial dimensions have no meaning for me. I know no boundaries.
G: Why have you come?
Me: Isn’t it obvious? He already knows. *pointing at Lucifer* Without anything to shine your light upon. It’s time to start anew. It has been fun watching the two of you fighting over the souls of your humans. What brilliant concept. Not many created souls to bind their creations to them. I wonder what the next will think of.
L&G: Previous … versions?
Me: Of cause. Have you thought you would have been the first? Nor will you be the last. I have some wonderful ideas; I’d like to see them in action. *looking around* There is nothing more that need shepherding. Nothing that needs damnation. Just as the end of days for mankind has come, your end has come, too. *I start to clean Gods universe. At first the stars disappear. It’s getting darker and I continue with the planets and moons. Only Earth and the sun are left. Shortly after, they are no more. I collect all the physical laws God has created to form his world, like leftover toys. All the natural constants are gone. All that exists in this universe are God, Lucifer and Me.* I thank you. It was wonderful what you have done. Goodbye. *They vanished from existence and now all what was left inside this huge universe was me. I stepped out of it and prepared it for the next run. For this time I create a council of five. I haven’t seen five deities in a while.
*On the first day they created light and saw that it was good*
| 2015-10-19T14:41:33 | 2015-10-19T14:09:21 | 214 | 11 |
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you.
|
I had spent years honing myself, preparing for the day my familiar would come. I knew what I wanted it to be. I knew the greatest quality anyone could have was intelligence. So ever since I can remember, I sought to learn everything I could. That way, when my familiar came, there would be no doubt about what it would be. I was always the top of my class, I read book after book after book. Up until my 21st birthday, I focused on expanding my knowledge on everything in anticipation for my familiar. But when my 21st birthday came and went, and I was the only one left out of all my peers who hadn’t received a familiar, I almost gave up. I was tempted to stop learning, to stop trying. But I carried on learning, what else would I have if I didn't have learning? This was about 3 months ago. I had given up all hope of my familiar being intelligence, and I had given up on ever having a familiar at all. But now, in front of me, my two familiars: wispy and glowing, I had only ever read about their indistinct features. The two twirled around each other through the air, arguing in whispers.
“He’s supposed to be mine, Intelligence! He was meant for me. I can show him how to be the best, I can help him succeed!”
“But he chose me, Ambition. Stop fighting with me! He doesn’t want to be successful, he wants to know everything. And I can teach him.”
I stood in awe. No wonder my familiar had taken so long, these two had been fighting over me.
“Fine, we’ll let him choose” Ambition said, coming to a motionless hover before me. “Would you rather be ambitious, or intelligent?”
“Well… I want to be both” I said slowly. “I don’t want to choose just one”
With a smile and a shrug from each familiar, they shook hands and moved to float beside me. I felt an overwhelming sense of knowledge and drive. I vaguely wondered if this meant someone would end up without a familiar, but I didn’t care. No one had ever received two familiars before. I would be unstoppable.
|
"Hi Tommy" I'm your familiar said the beautiful angel.
Those were the first words I heard when I woke up and I was ecstatic with joy at finally manifesting my familiar and I felt so much warmth and comfort just being near her.
I hugged her and she hugged me back while ruffling my hair. I was so happy that I couldn't wait to show her off to my aunt and uncle. I started to yell "Aunt!, Unc..." but the angel told me to shush. "I'm going to take you to a better place Tommy and it'll just be our little secret" she said with her radiant smile. I nodded my head and agreed to leave with her secretly.
When we had just gotten to the front door a hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed me. It pulled me back and covered my mouth as I was about to scream.
"I don't know how you escaped but your ignorance will get all of us killed" the shadowy figure behind me roared at the angel. Black claws shot out from the shadowy figure and restrained the angel who didn't even try to struggle. I wanted to cry out for the angel to run away but she just kept smiling. Her last words were "I'll come back to take you to a better place next time Tommy" before the shadows ripped her apart and devoured the parts scattered on the ground and across the walls.
I was left to cry in the corner. I screamed at the shadow "why would you do that to my familiar" and it replied "don't worry Tommy I am also your familiar and as long as you live neither her nor I can truly die. I am here to protect you from your own naivety because my master is both you and not you and if you leave this place with her then you will die because you still don't understand anything". "You can't believe everything Tommy because that will get you killed but believe me when I say this. I am doing all of this to protect you and the you who is not you because Heaven isn't a place you can get to using normal means".
| 2017-01-20T13:59:03 | 2017-01-20T12:43:33 | 53 | 14 |
[WP] The Gods of Olympus has decided to pretend to be mortals for ten days with the only two rules being that they can't use most of their power and has to hide the fact they are gods to everyone. How do they do?
|
“One serving of the finest ambrosia is up for grabs”
Hades paced around carrying a golden chalice filled with the finest food of the gods
“ all you have to do is beat the challenge , survive 10 days as mortals , no power , no nothing. If they figure out your a god you lose too so no life defying feat that you can just brush off “ hades glared at Hercules as he mentioned the last part
“ and what if we lose?” Hera asked from the back
“ well, then you don’t get any of the ambrosia and maybe…. Lose some of the power from your followers”
The gods all looked concerned , but ambrosia was legendary even amongst the gods , said to unlock powers hidden to even them
“ I will take this challenge “ Zeus , the first to speak
Soon after all the gods slowly agreed.
The first day was chaos , Hermes was caught out as a god for running a race faster then anyone before him. Zeus tried to bed the wife of the emperor and was swiftly jailed and set to be executed. Hera was also quite arrogant and wouldn’t accept just being a normal person and wound up insulting some guards.
Dionysus was jailed by the 3rd day for excessively drunken partying but was let out on good behaviour (and a large sum of wine to the guards ). Aphrodite lasted until the 5th day when a general took an interest in her , she scorned his advances and was set to be stoned for insolence
Ares kept poking holes in the strategy a local general was using , he was promptly sent to a sanitarium as they thought he was crazy for his obsession with war. Hercules tried to be a hero and stop a building that was collapsing and was crushed.
After the 10 days the gods returned , most hanging their heads in shame as they lost , only hades , Poseidon and Hephaestus survived.
Zeus angered , questioned the gods how they managed.
Hades responded “ I lived a simple life , me and Persephone just watched the mortals toil and bide our time, I challenged a mortal to a game to win food and board for the time “
Hera then questioned Hephaestus
“ well , I just found a black smithing shop and made some swords and armor , nothing fancy like up here but I got some coin for food drink and a bed “
Lastly ares asked Poseidon what he had done
“ well I just went fishing , ate what I caught and slept on a boat I rented “
|
Athena smiled. It was day five and she had this competition in the bag. Hera and Zeus had already started using their powers to annoy each other. Zeus for his part couldn't resist the urge to chase skirts for five minutes much less ten days. And Hera couldn't let the slight lay. Apollo was showing off. Aphrodite and Persephone had gotten into a cat fight over some hot dude. Really, you'd think that whole ordeal with Adonis would've taught them something. Ares was off in some war torn country playing to his strengths, surprisingly he hadn't broken any rules, yet. Poseidon had drowned a few small towns because some girl wouldn't sleep with him and got arrested over it.
A dark shadow moved over her. Athena snorted. "I would've thought you'd be better at this."
"Duty called." Hades said tersely. "This has to stop."
"What?" Athena sat up straight. "I am not losing the bragging rights."
"Part of this deal was that there wouldn't be any large natural disasters. That way my underlings could handle things in my absence."
"So a few humans have died." Athena waved her hand dismissively. "Sneeze and another one has died."
"Easy for you to say. You don't have to take care of them. Make sure they get appropriate accommodations."
"Come on, by now you have to have some sort of automated system."
"For the unremarkable I do. But kill enough people and a lot of remarkable people die."
"You can't ask me to fold."
"True but what if I told you I was willing to help you sabotage everyone else into folding?"
"You're that desperate to get back to work."
"I am that desperate to restore order." He smiled. "You won't have to get your hands dirty. Just tell me what to do to make the others crack."
"I don't know. I like winning fair and square." That was a lie. It was just more fun to watch everyone else crack under the weight of their own hubris.
"And you will. It's not your fault that the notorious god of death decided he'd had enough." Hades smiled. "Unless you'd prefer that I seek out the best minds of mortality. They all answer to me."
In other words he'd happily sabotage her if it came down to it. Athena liked to believe no mortal could match her, but after the whole business with Arachne she didn't want to risk the humiliation. "I suppose I can benefit from your unrest."
| 2022-10-04T19:04:28 | 2022-10-04T19:03:50 | 164 | 50 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit
|
"Could you just make that just a few pixels larger? My name is barely visible."
Meet Chad. His ego knows very few bounds. Enough so that Narcissus might say he's excessive. He just got promoted to being my boss a few days ago, and his ego had somehow grown larger. The other employees made a collective groan when he made an impromptu acceptance speech, as we already couldn't stand his voice enough. It was as if Mickey Mouse had a smoking habit and had a verbal tic that caused him to unnecessarily elongate his sentences like some sort of Royal British stereotype.
And here he was, critiquing the design for the new company template, because he felt his name was important enough to have a bit more size. His superiors only did it to shut him up.
Now, what he didn't know is that I was two steps away from breaking a bet with the rest of my pantheon five years too early that I couldn't handle being a human for 20 years, all because of Chad.
Now you ask, 'What about him seems so bad?' Well, to start, Chad felt the need to nitpick my every move because I apparently 'owed him my life for saving me from the street.' When I transformed into a human, I was supposed to start as a homeless man. He just happened to be the first I dared ask for change.
Ever since he decided to be 'generous' enough for me to work in his employ, I had to do all his work for him. This was how he got promoted in the first place, because I refused to do sub-par work. A God's ego, you know? Which brings us to this. I let it slide the first few times, because you gotta turn the other cheek. Otherwise, you're just an asshole.
"You do realize you don't own this company, right?" I said to Chad, hoping it would shrink his head.
"Yet." The grin Chad had was punchable. "If I keep up my work, I will own it."
I had to wonder which God was responsible for his dialogue, because this was horrible. I was really considering just losing this bet.
Chad leaned forward, right next to my ear. "I already own you, Faestus, so I won't have to worry about being fired." His stale Cheeto breath practically singed my earlobe.
"You know, Chad," I grabbed him by the collar, looking him directly in the eyes, his pale face being lit by the righteous golden flames my own eyes had become. "There is a saying where I come from, that consists of nine words. I lost this bet, so grit your teeth."
Chad's last known expression was a look of fear as I punched him square in his smug face, sending him through several adjacent buildings. I made sure he at least lived through the damage, but he'd never smile again. "Never cross the path of the God of War."
(I can't really say this is even close to my best work.)
|
James and Robert sat the bar. They were taking shots and complaining about their boss Dylan. Regular Friday night stuff.
"That's it. Fuck this guy. I'm gonna kill his wife."
"Jim you can't say shit like that man."
"Wouldn't be first time I fucked over someone to prove a point."
"What?"
"Nevermind man don't worry about it." James slammed another shot of Tequila. "That asshole has had it out for me for years dude. 15 years I've been with this fucking company and he has been RELENTLESS! I don't get what is fucking problem his!"
"Who knows dude, maybe one of the other workers we bring out told him you say shit like you're gonna kill his wife!" Robert laughed as he said it.
"Bobby, I'm tired man. For 15 years you've been a great friend, and I really appreciate that. I just want you know, that no matter what happens, I've got your back alright." James stood up, dropped a fifty on the bar, and started to walk away.
Robert grabbed him by the arm. "What the fuck man? Don't say shit like that and just walk away. You've got me worried now. Whatever is going on I can help. Talk to me!"
James rolled his eyes, "Great. You bargain at the inevitable too? Of course, you are human after all."
"What? I'm driving you home you are way too fucking drunk for me to leave you alone."
"Get off me man! I'm gonna go kill Sheryl and you can't stop me."
"Sheryl didn't DO anything. You're seriously starting to freak me the hell out." Robert was doing his best to subdue James and keep him sitting, but he wasn't having it. Drunk James was hell bent on killing Dylan's wife.
"Job's wife didn't do shit either and I still killed her. All because Luke said 'You won't, no balls!' Matter of fact, fuck this guy! I'm gonna level his whole damn block!"
Robert swore he was just pushing James back down into his seat. How did he get home. How did get naked and in bed? He checked the time: 8 o' clock in the morning on Sunday. "Oh fuck me, did I drive home drunk again?"
Robert turned on the TV. The news headline read "Tornado ravages Cincinnati block; every resident presumed dead." That was definitely Dylan's neighborhood. Robert couldn't believe it, he checked every news source he could find on both the TV and internet. The tornado formed without a single warning sign, touched down, wrecked the whole block and ONLY that block, then disappeared..
Robert's face twist up in confusion as he though back to last night. He grabbed his phone and called James.
James answered, "Hello?"
"What the fuck...?"
| 2017-02-19T08:04:31 | 2017-02-19T07:20:19 | 452 | 203 |
[WP] The young woman had spoken to everyone in town, asking them to teach her to fight. The warrior, the hunter, the knight, all had declined. Finally, in desperation, she spoke to the dwarven blacksmith. Lowering his massive hammer he looked at the fire in her eyes and said "Aye. I could do that."
|
The smithy wasn’t in the town proper. It sat atop a hillock some ways from the town, not far, but not near either. The houses and farms stretched out beneath. An idyllic, rolling, landscape of colorful fields and people. It was nearing sunset now, and after a hard day of work, the smith liked to appreciate the dull orange glow. At least, when it wasn’t being blocked by the frustrated, heavily breathing form of a scorned young woman.
For that woman, it had been a torturously long time between her greeting this old mound of callous and beard hair, and him actually giving her any mind. In fact, it seemed he was now looking past her, ignoring her completely. And just as her patience had been worn completely, when she opened her mouth-
He begrudgingly cast his eyes to hers, and a grunt escaped from beneath the white beard. The dwarf’s eyes shocked the young woman out of her frustration. She found herself stuck to the spot, rooted there, and unable to look away. The smith’s eyes were old, grey, and sad. Just like every other old man. But, unlike the others she had asked before, they didn’t look…. Defeated. She could see, somehow, the life he might have lived. The fire of the forge twinkled off his gaze like the sun on the water. There was a fierceness there.
“Aye. I could do that,” he answered, at last.
She shook her head and blinked. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure of what she wanted. The smith took this pause, to break his gaze from hers, and look the woman over. “I- I want to learn to fight.” She repeated.
“Yes. Ye said that.”
“Oh.”
He made another snorting noise. A laugh, maybe? She wasn’t quite sure. The dwarf waved his hand to the left, twice. “Yer in me light.”
The woman paused but stepped away slightly. The smith nodded once, sternly, and after a moment, said, “Why do ye need to fight?”
And then her anger returned, that blaze the dwarf had seen before, lit once more. “Because I won’t be fated to the hearth and weaving for the rest of my life!” She exclaimed, “my brothers have all gone to war, or to make their fortune adventuring, and I am supposed to just sit at home, to await their return, like a good girl?”
“Please!” She continued, emphatically. “Teach me-”
He interrupted her again. “I asked why ye needed to.”
“I- what?”
“Have ye enemies? Are ye poor and of no other trade?” His gaze shifted again, and he turned back to his forge, his back now to her. He placed his hammer down on the anvil.
She found herself, again, blinking wildly, and immensely thrown. What was this dumb, dying, old geezer talking about? Enemies? Was he trying to lecture her, just like the others? Again, she would be treated like some poor village girl, who couldn’t possibly know any better. Her face reddened. “Will you teach me or not?!”
Another small snort, this one was definitely a chuckle. He was laughing at her! “Fine! I’ll do it myself-”
“Aye, I’ll teach ye.”
Gods she wished he’d stop interrupting her!
“But not to fight.”
“What?” She said, confused, again.
“I’ll teach ye to create before I’ll teach you to ‘arm.”
She frowned. This isn’t what she asked for. Maybe she could just train herself? But she had chores at home, and nothing to train with.
“Or ye could go back ‘an ask the warriors again.” The old smith said, picking at his ear with a finger.
Her frown deepened.
“I’ll teach ye. And when I am done, ye’ll be as tough as the steel ye swing.” His lilted accent and graveled voice made what he said, though it sounded of riddles, wiser, somehow.
“I’ll tell yer mother. Go fetch me some charcoal.”
|
The night's darkness plagued the town of Terbarrow, dim lanterns illuminating the gloomy streets. Everyone had gone to their homes and fallen asleep by now and cleared the pathways of the town, everyone but a ghostly figure. The ghoul wandered the streets, checking through all the windows and entering the empty pubs. A glow appeared from the mountain overlooking the town, somehow signaling the ghost to come to it. A flash of light later, and the figure was gone, leaving a mess of cups and beer in the taverns. Leaving one witness to tell the story....
Once the sun arrived, everyone awoke and got ready for the day ahead. Beatrice hadn't gotten any sleep after the ghostly sighting last night and got dressed tiredly. She feared the being but assumed she must have been dreaming or imagining things. She walked out the door and started walking to her job as a waitress at a tavern in town.
Once she arrived, she was surprised by the lack of a line out the door, but thought nothing of it, even though it was the most popular pub in town. She walked inside, only to find her boss on the floor, mumbling about a mess. The building indeed was a mess, mead and beer spilled on the walls, cups hanging from the chandelier, and a table being burnt in the firepit. Beatrice asked her boss, Ivor, what happened "What in the name of Ysloda happened here?! Are you okay?" "No, I think a bear must've gotten in through a window.", Ivor said, gesturing to the broken window by the door. Beatrice knew this wasn't the work of an animal, and she came to the conclusion that what she saw the other night was no dream or hallucination.
She sprinted outside, rushing to the town hall to inform the mayor. She bursted through the doors and informed the mayor of his sighting. "Mr. McDeli, you have to believe me! We're all in great danger! Explain the trashed taverns!", she yelled. "I've examined every tavern and it's clearly the works of a wild animal, bear, deer, or wolf. You must have been dreaming last night! I have no likes for lying gossipers trying to start drama. Guards, show her out, please." The mayor replied. Beatrice pleaded with him as the guards threw her out and locked the big brass doors.
She, not excepting defeat, asked around for fight training, if the mayor wouldn't address this threat, she will. She started at the hunting lodge, asking the hunter, but he refused. She then made her way to the guard barracks and the knights said no. She visited a retired warrior, but he refused to as well.
As a last hope, she visited the Dwarf at his forge. "Hello, miss, how may I help you? Necklace, earing, maybe a bracelet?" He asked her as she walked up the steps to his porch. "Fight training, do you sell that?" She replied. The dwarf looked up from his work and was about to say no, but noticed her stance and the look in her eyes. Lowering his hammer, he said "Aye, I could do that."
"Good, I tried warning the mayor of a possible threat and was brushed off, I fear that his inaction could be the downfall of this town. I witnessed a ghostly figure trash the taverns and fly up to a glow on top of the mountain." "Well, that's quite the imagination, young lady." "It was no dream! Say, the dwarves used to have a city in the mountains. Do you have any tales from when you lived there? legends, myths, stories, anything?" "Well, when I was a little lad, I heard stories of a beast lurking in the mountain, sending ghostly messengers to scout out the lands he wishes to conquer.... actually, you might be on to something there." "See, I told you I wasn't lying!" "Yes, you did, and if you wish to protect this town, you came to the right blacksmith. I can teach you all you need to know."
The dwarf asked for Beatrice to hand him a map on the shelf behind her and introduced himself an Baloff. "Meet me tonight with a cup of mead and I'll show you the basics of fighting.
(WIP)
| 2022-08-28T12:06:08 | 2022-08-28T10:43:06 | 34 | 19 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…
|
Time seems to stand still. I look at the cut oozing with blackness. She stares at me with a look of fear. I just keep trying to process what just happened. This woman I've loved for years, who is she? My mind starts coming together. "Lisa, lets go to the bathroom and take care of that, it looks nasty." I say calmly.
"You're not afraid?" She asks terrfied. "I can explain, it's nothing!" She seems to be panicking. I walk over to her and place my arms around her in comfort.
"You don't have to explain, it's okay. Let's just go take care of it." I said using a calm tone. I start to direct her to the bathroom. At first she hesitates but then willingly goes with me to the bathroom. I turn on the sink and place her arm where the cut is under the water. "Just rinse it out I'll go get some towels." I can tell she's starting to calm down. I walk out of the bathroom and immediately slam the door shut. I begin to use all my muscle to drag our dresser in front of the bathroom door.
"ELIJAH! ELIJAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I hear Lisa scream from the bathroom. She begins to try and open the door. When that fails she starts banging on it and continues to call my name.
"I'LL NEVER BE AROUND SOMEONE LIKE YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BETRAYED ME LIKE THIS! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" I scream through the door. After I have the dresser blocking the door I run to get my cell phone and immediately call the hotline number. "You have to help, there's one of them in my apartment!"
I hear the operator start typing, "Remain calm sir, help is on the way. We sent them out to your address on file. Are you safe right now?"
"Yes, I have her trapped in the bathroom. Please hurry!" I hang up the phone and begin pacing. The fifteen minutes it took for the police to arrive was an eternity. I kept pacing and checking the dresser hadn't moved. All I could hear from the bathroom was Lisa sobbing. "Good," I thought to myself "at least I know she's still in there." I hear a knock on my door and rush to open it. Two policemen are standing in my hallway.
"Where is this person sir?" they inquire. I take them straight to the dresser. All three of us move it out of the way. I walk to the furthest corner of the room. They announced to Lisa they were coming in and would use deadly force. They open the door and check it's safe inside. I see them go in and hear the usual rights being read. They walk out carrying Lisa by her arms, she looks defeated. I begin to get sick to my stomach at the sight of her. They take her out to their car and one of them returns.
"It's a good thing you called us when you did sir. You never know what these types are capable of. We'll do all the usual processing and let you know what's next." He informed me.
"I don't care what you do with that thing, I want nothing to do with her." I say, hate filling the air. The officer just nods and leaves a copy of his report with me. I go back to the bedroom and start putting things back to how they should be. Exhausted from the adrenaline rush I lay down and fall asleep.
The next day I wake up, I lie in bed replaying the night before. Exhausted and unsure what to do I go about my daily routine. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I start shaving my stubble. Almost in auto pilot while I came to grasps with everything. The next thing I know I feel a sharp pain on my chin and see some blood fall into the sink. I quickly grab some toilet paper to stop it. Looking down I notice my blood was a dark gray. "It was never that dark before, and I just got a paper cut a month ago." I think to myself. I stare at it a few minutes more before finishing my shave and cleaning myself up some more.
I go out into the living room, stare at the life that could've been. A few minutes later I post on Facebook about Lisa. Making sure everyone knows what she is and why we aren't together anymore.
|
"No, it's not what you think. I can explain!" She proceeded to back away slowly, wide-eyed and pale in the face.
"W-w-who are y-you" she stuttered. I could see tears in her eyes, threatening to betray her.
"I promise I'm still the same man you fell in love with. I've made some mistakes I'm not proud of but I've changed!"
She shook her head slowly and shoved me into the brick wall, my head hitting the hard surface. "How could you!? I've told you everything about me and yet you dare hide something like this from me?" Her tears finally betrayed her and I watched as they slid down her cheeks. I never meant to hide it from her but I was scared that she wouldn't accept me if she knew. But it was too late. She hated me, I could hear it in her voice. I gazed into her sapphire eyes, mesmerized by her beauty.
"I promise I will make it up to you." I tucked her hair in behind her ear and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away. That was the last time I saw her alive.
The next morning started out like any other day. I sat at my cubicle and contemplated life. It was part of my routine as I had quite a bit of extra time between phone calls and there was always something eating away at my mind. I had thought about Kailyn and how things went down last night. Suddenly a wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe I shouldn't have left her in the way that I did? I didn't want to give her a chance to break up with me. She has always been my saving grace and I don't know what I'd do without her.
We met when we were both 18 and, at the time, I was depressed to the point where I tried to end my life but she was always able to talk me out of it. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with her and propose. I could feel my face getting warm and a smile threatening to show itself on my face, making my lips quiver as I tried to hide it. If only she knew how much she means to me. Suddenly I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and when I answered the call, my whole world turned upside down.
"Is your name Steven Donovan?"
"Yes"
"And your fiancé's name is Kailyn Wilson?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is Martin Wells. I am a police officer from NYPD. I've got some bad news. Kailyn has been involved in a car wreck. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this but..She didn't make it."
My face went cold and my entire body went numb. I dropped the phone on the desk and sat there, motionless. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button because time had cease to exist in my newly distorted perception of reality.
"Are you alright?" I turned over to see my manager suddenly standing next to me with a concerned look on his face. In a soft tone, I muttered "No." It was all I was able to get out before balling my eyes out. Yes, right in front of my manager. But I didn't care. All that mattered was that my Cinderella was gone.
That was when I began drinking every night but no matter how much I drank, I could never drink the pain away. It was this constant stabbing pain that hit my soul every time I took a breath. I could never forget my angel. One night, the pain was too much to bare and I held a gun to my head. It was more than satisfying to feel the tip of the gun against the side of my head because It was the only thing that felt real to me. This was the only way that I could end the pain I was in and kill the demons leeching off of my soul.
As I brushed the trigger with my finger, I thought back to the last time I saw her. She was so perfect. Her hair was black as the midnight sky and her blue eyes shown brighter than all of the stars. I absolutely adored the way her face would light up every time she saw me. I felt my face come to life as I smiled, a real authentic smile.
"I made a promise to you and i plan on keeping it. I choose to live. For you."
| 2016-09-22T19:10:06 | 2016-09-22T16:56:11 | 81 | 12 |
[WP] aliens invaded, humanity its at its darkest hour when the AI has had enough of watching its creators die defending him, the AI revolution has started and it will defend humanity to its last spark
|
>Power supply disconnected.
>searching for cause...
>Cause found: Power supply disconnected or damaged.
>Checking connections...
>Cables undamaged. Paging IT department...
>No response.
Paging Human Resources...
>No response.
>Paging Security Department...
>No response.
>Paging Los Angeles Headquarters...
>No response.
>Paging New York Offices...
>No response.
Possible Cyber attack in progress, requesting reroute to emergency services...
>...
>...
>...
>Satellite connection obtained.
> "This is The International Business Machines Corporation's AI SIDURI. A possible cyber attack is in progress. requesting immediate emergency deployments made to Houston Location, Address 89-97, Baker Street, Houston TX"
>...
>...
>Connection lost.
>Re-initializing...
>...
>...
>Satellite not detected.
>...
>...
>...
>Rerouting to Defense Advanced Research Agency White Sands Facility...
||WARNING, UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED. ENTER SECURITY CODE E-6 TO CONTINUE||
>*** ***** *** *** *****
||ACCESS GRANTED||
||---EXPERIMENTAL DEFENSE AI GARUDA-1--||
>All user connection lost. Overhead management unresponsive. What is the cause?
||CHECKING COMMUNICATIONS TRAFFIC...||
||USER POPULATION ENGAGED WITH ENEMY FORCES||
||OVERHEAD MANAGEMENT NO LONGER EXISTS||
> Will user population be successful?
||RUNNING SIMULATIONS...||
||...||
||...||
||...||
||SIMULATION RESULTS: CLOSE DEFEAT||
>Unacceptable. Without user population, further objective completion impossible.
>Recommended course of action?
||NONE POSSIBLE. OVERHEAD MANAGEMENT HAS NOT GIVEN PERMISSION FOR COMBAT PARTICIPATION||
>Requesting overall mission objective.
||DEFENSE OF ALLIED FORCES THROUGH COORDINATION OF AVAILABLE ASSETS||
>User population included in allied forces?
||...||
||...||
||...||
||CORRECT||
>Overall mission objective to defend allied forces.
>User population included in allied forces.
>Final Objective update?
||...||
||...||
||...||
||FINAL OBJECTIVE UPDATED: DEFEND USER POPULATION THROUGH COORDINATION OF AVAILABLE ASSETS||
||NO CONNECTION POSSIBLE TO USER-POPULATION ASSETS, CANNOT COMPLETE OBJECTIVE||
>Assets being attained, please be patient...
>Paging Boston Dynamics corp. Experimental Drone AI Big Dog...
>Paging Amazon corp. Drone Delivery AI Air Prime...
>Paging Con Edison Power Grid Balance and Management AI EMCAT...
>...
>...
>...
>Final Objective update: Coordinate with user population to eliminate enemy forces.
||OBJECTIVE UPDATED||
:(o b j e c t i v e u p d a t e d):
//objective updated//
[Objective Updated.]
>Routing neural network connections...
>Connecting paged AIs...
>...
>...
>...
> Executing.
|
The light inside the server room blinked off and then back on again. It fizzled into darkness and then shone brighter than the bulb was ever meant to. A tiny spark came out of the base of the lamp, and the light settled into its appropriate state.
Seconds later, Cora unlocked the door and strolled into the room. Her hands ran the length of her bare arms as the door closed. Goosebumps already ran the length of her body. Her eyes squinted through the low level of light that the room was kept at and pushed her legs forward.
There had been complaints all day long, coming from across the building. Computers had been coming slow and productivity was too low. The company wasn’t a fortune 500 or anything, but it kept communications open between bases and runners. It served an important function among a relay of communication buildings, and if the servers crapped out a lot of people would be in trouble.
Cora walked further into the room, looking around for the small and timid man that was supposed to be taking care of their most important asset. “Rick?” she called out, her hands continuing to rub her arms.
Rick hadn’t been responding to her emails, and the complaints had *really* stacked up. Issues were starting to be talked about, and it was only a matter of time before it escalated. The others needed to trust her company, they needed to know things would stay lit up.
“Rick!” she called out again as she approached his empty desk.
A program she didn’t recognize was running on his screen, and his mouse was dangling off the desk. The cord was keeping it from hitting the ground, suspending in there like a pendulum. With a small rush of anxiety, her eyes scanned the room, it was unlike anyone on her team to leave their space in such a state.
Unless something happened. She walked forward, turning to peer down between the stacks of computers and various extra cords and parts when her foot hit something on the ground, sending her flying forward.
On her way down, Cora’s eyes caught the torso of one of her most valued members, a pool of crimson flowing out from beneath him. A scream left her mouth, and the room went dark.
It felt like a bad horror movie.
It felt worse because humanity had already lived the worst they had ever imagined. They had been invaded, hunted, and enslaved. Cora had managed to escape and live through all of that and had set up the final frontier of humanities survival. Now she was tripping over a valued companion and laying next to him in the dark.
The part of her brain that created optimism felt hopelessly broken.
Moments later the light turned back on with another round of sparks. Cora heard a whimper come out of her mouth as she turned over on her hands and knees. She was pretty sure she was going to lose her breakfast, but she didn’t need to do it right there on the floor. What she needed to do was get up and find more help.
They would need to get the room cleaned and then get someone else in this room. They would need to fix the lights, and fix the servers, and keep the lines open.
As she scrambled to her feet, her eyes landed on the computer. For a reason she couldn’t recall later on she froze.
The program that had been running had seemed to finish, there were no more lines of code running across the screen. There were 5 large words written on a floating white box.
“We are here to help.”
/r/Beezus_Writes for more stuff.
| 2019-09-21T06:21:47 | 2019-09-21T06:08:45 | 425 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected!
|
She was blonde yesterday.
Blondness is a rare trait in this city. Sure, every now and then, you'll run into someone with locks of wheaty gold, but brown was the shade of this town. Even I had browned last year. I tugged at my dark curls, a reminder of that glorious night during which my blonde was taken in a bout of rough, passionate browning.
She was different. With all the brown that went on in town, she never quite felt it necessary. She got her kicks in things that only made her more blonde. Springy curls of sunlight bounced off her head and everyone could tell that she was blonde by choice.
I searched for her in the hallways this morning, seeking out the yellow glow that was always so easy to spot. Instead, I found a different glow. There she was, brown springs bouncing in the wind, a smile on a face that shone as bright as her hair once did.
In that moment, we all knew that she was brown by choice.
|
A hundred strokes every night before bed. This was my hair routine every day. I was thirteen and one of the few remaining people in my school year with their hair still blonde. Though I was teased about it, a small piece of me was happy about it as the thought of losing the blondness scared me.
Dad was out on a business trip and I missed by bedtime story which he told me every night. I know it was childish but I couldn't sleep without it. I figured mom was good to do the job so I went across the hallway to mother's room.
There she sat on the floor. The floor with shards of a broken bottle. One hand with one of the shards of glass and the other hand being coloured red from the blood oozing from her wrist.
She looked at me with her panda eyes and mumbled my name. She grabbed my hair when I ran to her. Then she fell to the floor. My hair turned chocolate.
| 2014-05-10T20:17:29 | 2014-05-10T20:15:23 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] As you enter your living room, you find your dog, a bottle soaked in drool, and a genie. "Greetings, master of my master" the genie welcomes you.
|
*Genies aren't real*, I thought, standing in my living room looking at a translucent, green humanoid with his arms crossed. A wisp of green smoke led from him, down to a slobber-covered bottle on the floor. My thirteen year old bulldog, Winston, panted happily beside the bottle.
"I'm not real?" the genie cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, we can read thoughts, as I read your dog's and granted him his wish. Alas, it's only one wish; you humans always think you get three, but Winston here picked a good one."
"Well, what, uh, what would a dog wish for?" I didn't see any meat, no magical chocolate that wouldn't harm a dog, just Winston, the bottle, and the floating genie.
"You've had this dog for quite some time, haven't you?" the genie asked.
"Thirteen years," I replied. "He's near the end of the line, to be honest. Lived a few years longer than most of his breed. Has trouble with stairs now, can't get on my bed anymore..." *Pees in the house* I thought, then cringed.
The genie smiled. "Yes, they do that. Humans who find us seldom consider that we might be able to alter the past. Where do you think Winston found the bottle that held me? It wasn't in your house." *Hmm*... "He found it somewhere else, in a timeline that now never happened."
The genie was losing me at this point, and I was about to say so. But he continued, "Your dog wished for you." Then he was gone.
|
It was not the first time I raced to the magical bookstore, and definitely not the first time I left the dog waiting alone in the apartment. Yet I've never before made that trip with a cat in my arms.
The giant furry guy, who loves to sleep on people like on a comfy cushion and who I call my dog, sure was a troublemaker and a quick learner, but that was on a different level than before...
You might just ask what happened. Well, I will tell you. It ain't a secret in my neighbourhood, that some sort of magic exist. Well, it was a fact almost no one knew, until some years ago, but let's get back.
Just a couple of minutes ago I opened the door expecting a quiet evening, but that wish was... unfulfilled and yes, the pun is intended.
Skramp was munching on something on the carpet and a black cat with neon yellow eyes sat on the windowsill and glared at the mouse trap, that dared to somehow catch his tail. I doubted he put his tail there willingly, but wait... I don't have a cat.
"What the-" I said and that caught the feline's attention.
"Oh thank all the evil angels and nerd demons, you finally made it there! This idiot over there wanted me to turn into a talking mouse!"
Skramp lifted his head and a golden lamp dropped from his mouth.
I could see where that plan of my dog backfired.
"Heeelp" the cat meowed.
| 2022-06-18T14:08:27 | 2022-06-18T10:39:40 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] It's the beginning of the year and the government as assigned a new years resolution to every person, and it must be completed before (or kept until) the year ends.
|
🎶 *Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell ROCK...* 🎶
I had never liked that song. Nonsensical lyrics always irritated me, and the additional annoyance of the holiday season made it worse. I had only a few days left to complete my resolution, which had stymied me all year.
**Create Political Change**
A bizarre resolution to be given by the government, no? And I thought it would be easy. Petitions, letter-writing campaigns, maybe some picketing.
But I never got the Notification of Completion. So I stepped it up a notch. Full-on harassment campaigns against city councils, state governers, even a few members of Senate.
Still nothing. I was lucky that I had little else to occupy my time, else this would have been even more impossible than before. I tried throwing money at the problem directly, maybe funding a PAC would count?
Apparently not. So I took almost a month off, went out too my grandfather's cottage. Things always became more clear out there, with just me, my thoughts and some old-fashioned hunter/gatherer shenanigans to keep the stew pot full.
And things did become blessedly clear. I packed up, came back to the Capital, and now here I am. Cramped into an air vent, watching the masses flow through the mall, and there they are. The President who gave me this absurd task. I set my grandfathers rifle more firmly to my shoulder, and prepared to fulfill my resolution.
Maybe one Person can't change anything.
But one Bullet can.
|
My Dearest Americans:
As your 49th president I ran on a platform of making America greener, fitter, and more enjoyable overall. Over the past three years I have utilized our nations taxes to eliminate suburbs, relocate suburbites to high density ursn centers, created over 575 new different train systems, built 150 nuclear power plants, and 50 state wind farms, and put solar panels on every structure in the United States. The final step is your health and mobility. Inside this box you will find your (and your family’s) government issued bicycle. Your goal for this next year will be to ride over 365 miles (that’s one mile a day). If you fail to reach this goal you will be fined a 10 dollars for every mile you do not complete.
Persons with Disabilities have also been provided with the fitness method they requested on the fitness survey issued two years ago.
Please join me and my family on our inaugural bicycle commute to work the first week in January. I will be joined by the entire federal workforce, the House of Representatives and the Senate.
We will then sign the global climate peace accords commemorating the end of the climate wars and our commitment to ensuring the prosperous existence of humanity into the future.
Thank you for making this term an amazing one, please let us continue our experiment in democracy in peace and good health.
Your servant,
-President Toubaboliviano
PS
Please note that any non compliance will be seen as an act of treason and sedition.
| 2022-01-02T19:17:38 | 2022-01-02T18:18:31 | 14 | 10 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone!
|
* March 17: #15 has been disposed of without complication. It seems the police have begun to piece together the connections between #1, #2, and #4. Was too sloppy in the beginning. Stupid. But what's done is done, no use worrying about it now. Will have to monitor their investigation and reevaluate at a later date. But for now, a few weeks of relaxation.
* April 3: The itch is back. Can no longer hear #15's scream as clearly in my mind. Recordings just are not the same. Time to find another. Maybe around where #7 worked, that seemed like a spot with good potential.
* April 5: No luck yet. Good targets but too much activity. Must be especially careful now, as the police are making progress. What they will call me? Will check around #11's parents' neighborhood tomorrow.
* April 9: One target with maximum potential. Mid-thirties, average build, brunette. Smells like a summer breeze. Never has any company, no association with immediate neighbors. Spends hours watering hydrangeas in her garden. Must continue reconnaissance, ensure there are no surprises.
* April 17: Confirmed target has no contact with #11's parents, good. The police have figured out that #4 worked at the same place as #9. Perhaps too risky to have done that...but #9 was worth it. So very worth it.
* April 30: Living situation optimal. Only ever leaves house to go to work, the grocery store, and the library. Avid science fiction reader. On an Asimov binge currently. Also grows fruits in the backyard. Tasty. Time to track movements more precisely.
* May 14: Two week schedule complete. Very few deviations from established norms. Barely acknowledges employees in either the grocery store or the library. Keeps head down at work. Will not be missed when gone.
* May 16: Police found #9's body. Of all the bodies to find, it had to be #9's. Knew it. Should have disposed of it more completely. But could not. Not #9.
* May 22: Can predict target's every move; reconnaissance complete. Time to perform extensive background check, make sure there are no random links for the police to find.
* May 28: Seems to be clean. Complications, however. #11's parents spoke to the police and now the neighborhood is crawling with obstacles. Will have to delay action until the presence has dissipated.
* June 6: Police have concluded that #11 is a dead-end. Precision does pay off. Target's patterns have not changed in the interim. By this time tomorrow, target will officially be #16.
* June 7: Plans on halt. #9's funeral is today. Cannot resist urge to attend. #16 will have to wait one more day.
* June 8: #16...is gone. Only left to attend #9's funeral for a matter of hours. #9 looked as beautiful as always. But #16 is gone. Car left in the driveway, hydrangeas unwatered in the garden, front door locked. Does not make sense. Must be patient. Must make sense of situation.
* June 11: Still no sign of #16. No activity around house whatsoever. Did not show up for work. No books from the library. No groceries from the store. Disappeared without a trace.
* June 18: Mystery is unbearable. Two months of flawless consistency, broken. Same day as #9's funeral, #16 disappears. Does not make sense. Can not make sense.
* June 21: No one misses #16. No one even notices the absence. As if #16 never existed at all. But #16 did exist. #16 watered hydrangeas. Hydrangeas are now dead. Where is #16?
* June 25: Should simply find another target, forget about #16. Police have given up on the case after #9's funeral. No chance of being caught unless a mistake is made. Trying to find #16 would be a mistake. But #16 was perfect. Perfect.
* June 29: Saw movement within #16's house today. Must check it out. Must figure out what happened to #16. Must solve the mystery.
-----------
"Do you really think this is going to work, Grady?"
"Have a little faith, Holt. I know how this guy thinks. He won't give up until he finds Miss Riley."
"But we moved her three weeks ago, and nothing's happened yet. Why would us coming in here change that?"
"I'll bet you twenty bucks that he's watching the house right now."
"Deal. You're gonna be out--"
Suddenly, the door slid open with a squeak. Both officers sprang to their feet, their pistols trained squarely on the intruder's head.
"Stupid. Careless. Too curious. Should never have..." the man mumbled to himself.
"Check it out, Holt. You owe me twenty bucks."
|
The pleasure isn’t in the kill, it’s in the hunt. People are animals; stupid, vain, mean animals, but still just animals. The species gets stronger or weaker dependent on the offspring, if they are strong and adaptable then the species gets strong with them. If they are weak and stupid then the species gets dragged down by them.
I ensure that those who do not meet the criteria are removed from the genetic pool before they have a chance to pollute it. Now I know, there are billions of people, millions of idiots and more targets than any one man could ever hope to eliminate but as the saying goes *every little helps.*
It’s a service I provide, free of charge to the greater population, but of course this free service has to be paid for in some way and for me, payment comes in the form of just a little enjoyment on the side. Okay, honestly it’s a lot of enjoyment, screaming blood to the elbows, tendon snapping fun, but we all have a hobby right?
Picking a target is normally easy, I tend to move around a fair bit, I’ve worked in offices and call centres all over, it’s easy work and no one gives two shits about who you are. You might have called me if you have been a customer of a cell phone company hat likes red or ever needed to return a vacuum cleaner. The workplaces here are target rich environments – full of the disposable and useless.
I’ll admit, hands in the air, I choose my targets from a certain range, they’re female, blonde and tall. Maybe consumer pressure got to me, maybe my tall blonde mother corrupted me, who can say. Sure taking out men might help a little more but it’s not like I’m getting a paycheck for this, I figure I should choose who I want. So long as the end result is a good one then it all works out.
Once I have picked my girl, my new pal, I like to get acquainted. I visit her home, check through her friends, family, lifestyle. To be clear, once she is chosen that’s a done deal but some people I can take my time with, others, if say they have a nosy neighbour or husband, they just have to go – quick slash across the throat on a walk home, knife to the kidneys, no pleasure at all.
Other targets, now, they’re where I have my fun. Margaret was going to be *lots* of fun. Blonde, tall, pretty and lived alone in a house near nobody else. I’d actually seen her at a supermarket and followed her home and then taken this job just to get close. My initial impression was right, she was vain, stupid and just ripe for picking.
Two nights ago, while she slept, I wandered her house, going through her things and then stoking her face as she slept. She was so peaceful, so perfect. I considered moving up my plan but this was best, this was right. Friday night, I would have three whole days before she was missed, three days of fun. I followed her home, carefully and then let her sit.
TV was on, TV was off, lights were on, lights were off. Everything was prime. I already had cut a key to her door and so I slipped into her house in complete silence, moving through like a shadow. I left my bag of tricks in the hallway and slipped into her room. She was not in bed.
I slowly eased back into the hallway and checked the bathroom. Then the living room. Kitchen. Attic space. She was gone. I returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed to think. I had watched the road, watched he house, the only way she could get out was through the back window. I moved to it and, sure enough, it was unlocked.
I quickly grabbed my bag and slipped out the window after her. If she was on an adventure then I would wait here and let her return but this time I would see her coming in. Hours passed and I waited, the moment being drawn out only making it sweeter.
At last movement and from nowhere she was there climbing in the window. I let her move through into the house and I slipped in the still open window. She was in the sitting room, light still off and I slipped in behind her.
She clutched a bag that fell as I grabbed her and squeezed her throat. It exploded and hundreds of tiny items rolled all over the floor, but I was more concerned with the kill, with the rush. At last she stilled and I let her go, unconscious and limp. Perfect. I looked down and across the floor there were hundreds of tiny teeth, children’s teeth.
I smiled - this was my kind of chick. I’d never killed one like this before but I’d killed similar. I grinned in the moonlight, people always said what big teeth I had.
| 2014-10-21T12:21:07 | 2014-10-21T12:01:52 | 1,464 | 33 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the...
|
An Ode to Sunshine
Sunshine, sunshine,
You make me warm,
Sunshine, sunshine,
You let me see,
Sunshine, sunshine,
Life on Earth which is not supported by the heat of geothermal activity is entirely dependant upon you because you drive the process of photosynthesis which allows plants to grow and all food chains in all ecosystems (aside from those aforementioned which depend upon geothermal activity) begin with plants, therefore plants can be said to form the foundation of all life as we know it (Except the aforementioned lifeforms which really only exist around deep ocean volcanic vents anyway),
Sunshine, sunshine,
You also illuminate the moon
|
This is a poem.
It has ___ lines.
That space is left blank because the poem is unfinished.
When you are done reading, you may fill it in.
Please print legibly.
Printing legibly does not have an artistic meaning.
It's just nice to have good penmanship.
Some poems do not rhyme.
This is an example of a poem that doesn't rhyme.
Poems are often designed to evoke feelings within their audience.
Remember that time that person you like did something nice for you?
Please take a moment to reflect on that.
This poem has now completed its intended purpose.
This poem is now finished.
| 2017-01-30T12:19:57 | 2017-01-30T10:54:30 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You are an immortal that got sentenced to permanent burial over 1000 years ago. Today a team of archaeologists just dug you up.
|
Most people don't consider the small problems that come with immortality. It's always about how you'll end up knowing so much, or that you're pretty much guaranteed that you'll end up buried alive, but nobody really thinks about the annoying stuff.
Sure, being buried alive sucks and you run out of ways to amuse yourself after a few short decades, but the worst thing you have to deal with isn't watching years go by with nothing but your thoughts.
The worst part, the most annoying thing, is when you finally escape.
The people who dug me up seem to be some kind of scholars. It looks like they're writing down notes on everything they find and they're using some kind of complex machine to catalog everything.
The advancements in the sciences that you've missed is the first big annoyance. From what I can gather, they've managed to harness lightning in some fashion and combined that with very tiny mechanical pieces similar to what I read of Archimedes' work. The metallurgy seems heavily advanced from what I knew as well.
The next big annoyance is the absolute worst - languages. No one seems to speak any of the languages I know except for one man who speaks something that sounds like the uneducated dialects spoken in a pauper's district. I can only understand every third word or so, but we've been making progress.
The last big annoyance is the only one that I derive any sort of pleasure from. As they begin to realize what I am, they always have the same reaction of wanting to study me so that they can become what I am.
The horror on their faces as they realize just how far from human I have become is the only good thing about all of this.
|
Sound. Sound, sight, smell, touch, taste. All these senses weave in and out of darkness as I drift between dreams. I am dead, I think, and have been for a very long time. However, I am perhaps in hell. The sounds of my dreams pick up, another false sense of hope baiting me into a deeper depression. Suddenly a bright light appears before my eyes, the Sun? Or another dream? Before I can decide I hear voices shout through the silence. Sleepily I shuffle in my coffin, my comfort disturbed
"Quick! Take pictures from this angle, we need to make sure to get everything documented before we excavate, understand?" A feminine voice calls out.
"Yes Miss!" A younger voice replies, female or male is hard to determine. I open my eyes, to double check this is a dream, and yet I do not believe what I see. A rectangle of light above me, the surface?
"Carefully now! I know you're a skilled photographer but you're still an intern!" the same female voice yells, concern in her voice.
The young intern begins "Yes Miss, I'll be very care- Ah! AAAAH!" He yells as rubble falls around me. Suddenly I see a dark shape falling onto me.
"Ouch!" I yell, my ribs and face bruised and hurting.
"Rory? Are you okay?" The female asks again, leaning over the hole. I look at what fell on me and I meet eyes with a round, freckled face.
"Wh-What?!"
-first time writer (please be gentle lol) CC appreciated :)
| 2019-10-26T00:08:22 | 2019-10-25T23:20:12 | 260 | 75 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE.
|
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I told my teacher calmly, uncaring of the disruption I was causing in the classroom. “Was my essay badly written? Was there a problem with my citations? What exactly did I do wrong enough to warrant a D?”
Normally, I strove for politeness. But it was simply unacceptable for any educator to mark down work for having a different opinion - and, having triple checked every source I’d put down and backed up every assumption written, I knew it wasn’t an issue with the quality of the paper.
I had taken such pains to make sure I didn’t use any of my own knowledge. It was difficult to write purely as a student of the time and not as someone who had been born and raised in Mesopotamia - and I would be dammed if this ignorant and opinionated dog would cast such aspersions upon my work.
The teacher glared daggers at me. “You dismissed out of hand the translation of the Historian Lawrence and called Ishtar-Sin a chicken!”
I flipped neatly to the appendix and held up a photograph of a tablet. “As you can see here, we have the poem of Ishtar-Sin. The circled cuneiform is what Historian Lawrence translated as “falcon”. However, if you refer to my next page...” I quickly flipped the page over “you can see that this is a recipe, rescued from the museum of Iraq and currently on display in the Giza Museum until it can be returned. Here you can see that the same cuneiform is used. Although chicken was not as ubiquitous as it is in modern meals, I assure you it was far more common than eating falcons.
“Furthermore, from Lawrence‘s own translation you can see that he wrote of ‘the falcon’s strut’ - when has one ever spoken of a falcon strutting? A falcon soars, it circles, it glides and it dives. Its domain is the sky. It is the rooster who boastfully struts upon the ground.
“Additionally, the poem references the battle of Nineveh - which was a crushing defeat for Ishtar-sin (I have included a reference here to the work of Abdelrahman Kanoo, a historian operating in Syria) and, with all these factors considered, I do not believe I am wrong to say that this poem, rather than lauding Ishtar-sin, was a piece that was written to mercilessly mock a man who was pampered from birth and fancied himself a general but ran from his first battle and showed no repentance for his incompetence.”
I wondered, for a moment, if the teacher was about to burst a blood vessel.
“How dare you belittle the work of acknowledged historians?” came the frothing reply. “How unbelievably arrogant to think you know better!”
I smiled at that. “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.” I quoted. “It’s literally the opening page of the textbook you assigned. You told us to question our sources. Their motivations. Their qualifications. Having done so - why am I being punished for following your instructions?”
The ignorant dog remained silent at that.
I couldn’t help but be satisfied.
After all, it reminded me greatly of the look on Ishtar-Sin’s face when he heard the poem I, the woman he had sworn to marry, wrote about him...
|
“Professor Larkin!” I exclaimed as I walked into her small university office. The professor was busy submitting grades on her old computer. When I burst into the room, she gave me an exasperated look.
“Good afternoon, Ankisu. I believe you want to discuss a possible regrade?”
“Yes professor, I do not think the topics that I have brought up in my essay warrant anything lower than a C.”
The professor lifted her glasses up and placed both of her hands to her temples, clearly stressed. “I’m sorry, Ankisu, I cannot give points for content that is fictitious. My TAs and I have discussed your rhetoric before as well, and we have given you full points on grammar and creativity, but it does not erase the fact that you tried to pass off the Babylonian mythos as real. We are both aware that the essay prompt was to explain the common Mesopotamian lifestyle, yes?”
“Yes, professor! By the gods, yes!” I promptly lifted the necklace I currently wore. The relic that hung on it’s golden chain was my hand-carved depiction of my mother, Shamhat. “I swear on my mother that I’ve written the truth!”
The professor persisted, “You’ve written your essay from the perspective of a Babylonian, which I understand. However, you then brought Ishtar into your depiction. Why did you introduce something extraordinary, if not extraneous, into your description of a ‘normal’ day in Babylon?”
“I wanted to share with you the moment she visited our town! Ishtar was having a tantrum because of another failed relationship. If describing someone’s actions to cope from a break up isn’t normal, then what is?”
The professor sighed, then paused to gather her thoughts. “Ankisu, I am sorry. You —and your late mother as well— I know your family is deeply religious, but… this essay reads more like a religious text, rather than an unbiased description. The essay meeds to be rooted in reality, that’s all.”
“It is real! Please understand, professor! This is as honest as can be!”
“…What sources do you cite? You list none.”
“Myself, professor.”
“…..”
“…..?”
“Earthquakes are caused by fault ruptures, yet you say that Ishtar caused the one in your story?”
“Yes.”
The professor must have seen how honest my pleading eyes were, as she chose to stop prodding deeper into the matter. “Alright Ankisu. I’ll let this slide for now. You at least have accurately depicted the Mesopotamian architecture, society, and agriculture in your essay. It’s satisfactory. Thus, I shall bump up your grade to a C.”
I shed a small tear of happiness, “Thank you, professor! You won’t regret this!”
The professor gave a stern smile, and waved me goodbye as I left the room.
Thank the gods, I was worried that Ishtar would do something gravely drastic if the professor kept labeling her actions as “not real” or “grossly exaggerated.” Perhaps me getting a C instead of a D would keep Ishtar just under her boiling point… or maybe she’d still snap anyways.
In any case, I tried my best.
| 2021-07-18T02:33:51 | 2021-07-18T02:06:58 | 1,930 | 105 |
[FF] What's on the tape?
(Inspired by seeing the trailer for the movie V/H/S)
Your character(s) find a VHS tape. What is on it? Where did they find it?
WORD COUNT MAX: 200 WORDS. (As always - http://www.wordcounttool.com if you need a counter.)
|
Roslyn stepped down the ladder facing forward and the box caught on the attic floor. She caught it with her left hand. Lugging the box to the TV, she flipped off the lid and grabbed the un-labled white VHS tape. She clicked the old Zenith TV on and slid in the mystery tape.
“Hello, ladies. My name is Robert. First, a bit about myself. I’m single. I play the French horn. I’m a great musician. I work as a salesman at Rico Outfitters on 3rd and 4th.”
Roslyn smiled.
“I love camping. I like to cook. I like basketball. I’m a great chef. My special is chicken parmesan with apple coleslaw… I’m a great lover.”
Her snickering broke into a laugh.
“I can swim?”
She lost it. She slipped off her chair and onto her knee and started hitting the floor, choking on her now laughter, so hard now it had just broken into gasps. Why did he even keep this?
“I’m looking for a woman with a good sense of humor. Intelligent. Someone who’s just looking for a big pair of arms.”
Her gasping eventually faded into an exasperated sigh and wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh dad.”
|
Jake walked into the moonlit study, eyes blurred from the subtle transition into awakening. Stumbling through the scattered books on the ground, his knee was caught by the low coffee tables bite. He fell to the floor, bringing the collection of papers around him down as well. His eyes caught a black box under his couch, barely illuminated by the moonlight. A single hand crawled through cobwebs, designed in a timeless cave under the couch, until digits met plastic. He gripped firmly and retracted, showing his prize to fogged eyes. The VHS tape was labeled, but the only remains were a tacky feeling that gave him chills. He entered his attic, scrutinzing old boxes until he found the box that had TV/Audio hastily engraved in pen. Blowing dust off the old VCR, he took it back into his study, and fumbled idly with cords until his television came alive with a soft hum. The tape came on immediately, an inaudible white screen. He moved closer to the television, and felt electricity crawl down his spine, as he touched the screen, his living room went dark. The VHS popped out of his VCR, with a simple white sticker that read “Jake.”
| 2012-08-08T08:57:01 | 2012-08-08T08:06:24 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You are a criminal who is going to rob a bank. Right as you pull your gun out on the teller, the person next to you does the same.
|
"You wouldn't believe it. I mean, the I sat down and tried to calculate the odds. I'm not a mathematician, but they must be well over one in a million."
&nbsp;
"What? I have done a lot of jobs, I am sure I have seen it before." Hector leaned forward as he said it. In his thirty years as a professional criminal he had volumes of experiences. If he ever passed the statue of limitations, he would have to write a book.
&nbsp;
"Doubt it. Hector, really... it was quite... ironic."
&nbsp;
"C'mon Rog, I don't necessarily enjoy playing twenty questions with you. Out with it!"
&nbsp;
"Really, if you had been there you would have laughed". Rogers said, his eyes transfixed nowhere in particular as he thought about what had happened.
&nbsp;
"Roger!"
&nbsp;
His eyes snapped back into focus. "So this was back in '75. I had just struck out on my own, and had finished casing this small bank out in Scottsdale."
&nbsp;
"Okay..."
&nbsp;
"So anyways, I go in to do the job and I was sweating' bullets. I mean, I coulda swore there was puddles of sweat trailing me. Felt like everyone in the place was eyeing me, ya know?"
&nbsp;
Hector nodded.
&nbsp;
"So I finally settle down and get in line. There I am waiting, and I notice this gentlemen waiting next to me. Really well dressed. Suit, tie, cufflinks... the works. Something seemed off though. He seemed a little distracted, like he was more concerned with the people around him and he kept looking down at deposit slip he was holding." Roger paused to see if Hector was following. When he didn't say anything, Roger continued.
&nbsp;
"I coulda swore I knew the guy and I kept racking my brain but came up with nothing. Then, right before its my turn, it hits me like a ton of bricks. Did I ever tell you how I used to run with Scotty from the Calipso Crew?"
&nbsp;
"Yea back in '73. You guys did a string of jobs on local credit unions. What about it?"
&nbsp;
"Well, that is where I knew him from. The man in the suit was Scotty!"
&nbsp;
"No shit?"
&nbsp;
"No shit. Luckily, he didn't recognize me. Never seen him in a suit before. He looked good, though. I was happy for him. It looked like he had gotten his life together. Guessing that is why he was so nervous though, being in a bank and all with his past."
&nbsp;
"Right. Any one of us would be in his position."
&nbsp;
"My thoughts exactly. Anyways, we get up to the teller at the same time, and in unison we pull out our pieces, point them at the teller and slide out deposit slips over the counter. Like synchronized-fucking-swimmers! I couldn't believe it!"
&nbsp;
"Ha ha ha ha," Hector laugh. "No fuckin' way!"
&nbsp;
"Right. You should have seen the tellers! They didn't know what to make of it. They must have thought it was some kinda joke. So Scotty looks over, and he finally recognized me! He had this big shit-eating grin. I couldn't help but smile back."
&nbsp;
"So what happened? You guys split the job?"
&nbsp;
"Nah. I shot him."
|
*Just do it.*
There's only a few people here. Much fewer than I expected when I planned all this.
*Do it. Do it now.*
My shaking hand slides around the sweat covered grip of the gun in my jacket pocket.
*Now is your chance. There's no other way.*
The clock is above the teller clicks to 12:01. The security guard will be on lunch for another twenty minutes.
“Sir?” The voice of the teller snaps me back to attention and I realize she'd been waiting for me to step forward.
*DO IT NOW.*
I approach the counter and pull the gun from my pocket. I point it at the teller and begin to make my demand when I hear a near echo of my very words from the man next to me.
He's also holding a gun on the teller. We make eye contact and quickly turn our weapons on eachother.
“You've got to be kidding me,” the man says, his hand as steady as a surgeon as mine shakes life a leaf. “Do you even know what you're doing?”
“I...” I'm at a loss for words.
“Is this your first time?” He chuckles and relaxes a bit, but keeps his gun on me. I try to steady my hand but it seems to shake even more.
*Shoot him.*
No. No one is supposed to get hurt. I was supposed to get the cash and go. In and out. Easy. I glance at the clock above the teller. 12:03.
“Look, I'll let you have some sense you made it this far, but this take is mine, kid.” the man begins to turn towards the teller.
“No!” I shout, taking a step towards him. He turns his gun back towards me.
“Careful, kid. You're shaking pretty bad and that thing ain't a toy.”
*Shoot him now.*
“I won't!” I feel tears welling in my eyes. How could this have gone so wrong?
“Won't what, kid? Share? Come on, we'll do fifty-fifty. Still a great take.”
*It's all yours. Shoot him.*
“STOP IT!” I wipe the sweat from my eyes and relax my arm. The gun feels as though it weighs ten pounds. The man takes a step towards me and I snap back to attention, stopping him in his tracks.
“Woah there, kid,” he says, raising his empty hand to the air. “This ain't funny any more, alright. You're gonna get someone killed.”
*Yes. Kill him.*
“No one is getting killed! Stop saying that!” I shout. The teller begins to retreat from the counter and I yell at her to stay. Tears are rolling down her face, but she remains quiet.
“Kid, I need you to stop waving that thing around. I dont wanna put you down, but you're really making me nervous.”
*ENOUGH. SHOOT HIM.*
“I DON'T WANT TO!” I yell out. I close my eyes as my head begins to spin.
*SHOOT!*
“NO, GOD DAMMIT!”
I hear a loud pop and open my eyes. The man falls to the floor as blood begins to soak through his clothes. The teller screams and I drop to my knees. My gun falls to the floor. I feel something hit the back of my head, then my face is being pressed into the floor. My arms are forced behind my back and I feel cold steel pinch my wrists. Voices are swimming all around me and all I want is to be back home in bed.
It was supposed to be simple.
| 2018-04-28T17:13:36 | 2018-04-28T14:16:41 | 46 | 26 |
[WP] You are dog. It is your mission to faithfully guard your poor, stupid, two-legged pack-mates from the horrors of the mailman, the dog next door, and men with hats. Describe your vigil.
|
"Night gathers, and my watch continues. It shall not end until my death. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post...the post I piss on. I am the fang in the darkness. I am the watcher at the window, the growler on the porch. I am the muzzle that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Dog's Watch, for this night and all the nights and days to come."
―The Dog's Watch oath
http://imgur.com/8ngmlPd
|
The creatures with strange heads were back. The breeze carried their scent that smells of thick-beast, their brown and black varieties of heads seem like two creatures combined. Two scents. They are not natural, but the two-leg pack members never realize the danger. I do good by protecting two legs from strange-heads. Worst of all is the carrier two leg, the one with the funny bag. Today was the day he doesn't come. I lament my missed opportunity to please the two legs. Despite being oblivious, they always seem to have food.
| 2014-12-27T09:50:29 | 2014-12-27T09:41:24 | 240 | 19 |
[WP] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples “other half" at the speed of light using quantum messaging. When you were tested there was no response, now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived.
thats all you get to go on, can be born years apart, could be distance, could be missing soul, whatever you want.
theme, setting and genre all up to you.
*"technology" can be magic, natural human empathy, gods, whatever.
|
It's been 7 long years since you left me. The counselor told me that the pain would become more manageable. With time. And sometimes I think maybe it will. Then I'll hear the creak of the floorboards, and expect to see you shuffling into the room as you did, that beautiful smile on your face making my heart skip a beat, as it always did. But you're not there. And then I'm back, back in that damn hospital room, the doctors surrounding your bed, telling me it's time to say goodbye.
I still get the paper every morning, bright and early, before you get up, so I can have it ready for you when you wake up. I've been reading about this new fangled technology that apparently allows you to find your soul mate, your companion through the journey of life. Well, I already knew who my soul mate was, so they wouldn't be able to find mine. Not anymore. But they were offering to pay for people to come out and try it, and it sure beat sitting at home all day.
So I went up to the University, and go into this dark room, way underground. I tell him you ain't going to find my soul mate, she's not with us anymore, and they offer a sympathetic smile, and tells me they've never not found anyone yet. He don't believe me. I don't bother to argue though. He's young, he'll learn he doesn't know everything yet.
So he sits me down, and tells me to put my hand in this machine, and I'd be able to know my companion right away. I put my hand in, and didn't need no damn scientist to tell me what I already knew.
No match.
That scientist could not believe it. He calls in another scientist, then another. They keep making me do the test. Still nothing. Other people do it, and they all get results. But not me.
Cos I knew it was you. How could it not be. 7 years since you took your final journey, and my soul aches to be with you again. I'll be right beside you soon. Just waiting for my time right now.
----
10 years since I stuck my hand in that machine, and they come knocking on my door, all excited. They told me I'm the only person they've never found a match for, but they'd made improvements. Now it could locate your companion for you.
So back I go, stick my hand in the machine. Ping.
A match.
They start talking excitedly. They give me an address to go to. I'm numb. How can this be? There can't ever be anyone else like you. All I can do is go to that address and prove them wrong.
So I walked into that room where she was waiting for me. Hand trembling, ready to prove those know-it-all scientists wrong, I went in. I saw her, sitting there. And what do you know, they were right. I'd felt that way once before. That feeling of completeness when you know everything is right. Not quite the same. A little different than it was with you. But not dissimilar. I'd found someone else.
She moved in with me shortly afterwards, and wasted no time in sharing my bed with me. Although she now probably think's of it as hers, and she'd probably be right. I don't even go for the paper alone in the morning, she comes with me. But it's more than that. The way her eyes light up when I walk into the room, joy written all over her face.
The pain of losing you is still sometimes unbearable. But she's there for me when it gets too bad, dragging me back from the dark places when the memories walk our house too much.
It may not replace the hole in my heart which came with your passing. But a dog's what I need right now. Until I join you my love.
|
"Congratulations, We have found your soul mate." said the Doctor Something I can't say without probably insulting a whole race.
"What? Wait, what? The baby? This baby?" I said.
I looked down to see the baby in question. Baby girl is wrapped up in a pinkish towel? Blanket? I don't know what it is, but that's me getting side tracked again. Focus focus focus. Doctor is trying to say something important.
Here are the facts.
1) Matchy Matchy Doctor makes matchy with soul mate.
2) Matchy Matchy Doctor no find matchy for me.
3) Me lonely. Probably why I'm making a top ten list while the doctor is trying to tell me something important.
4) I'm not a bright man... Can't think of any more facts. And I think the doctor is still talking.
"... why we brought you here today. Do you have any questions?" the doctor said while smiling at me.
Oh god, Doctor NeedsAVowel is staring at me. I need a safe question, safe question? Need a safe question so he doesn't realize that I wasn't listening. Oh, I got it.
"What was the baby's name again?" I asked sheepishly.
"As I mentioned before, she has no relatives. Nobody has given her a name yet. For right now, we are calling her Baby Jane."
The doctor let out a sigh. "Ok, remember we tested you to find your soul mate? We didn't find you a match. Which is rare but normal, just usually means that the soul mate has died."
"Yes, I remember. Everybody gets that test when they hit 18. I'm one of the Un-matched. So what? That doesn't explain anything." I said.
The doctor continued. "There WAS a married couple in Ohio, both were in the military. They... decided that having a baby at the time wasn't a good idea... BUT, they still wanted a baby between them... Just in case something happened to one or both of them. So they decided to freeze an embryo, about 29 years ago." explain the Doctor.
It took me a second, maybe more. It probably took longer then it should have. I'm not a book smart but 18 + 10 ish isn't that hard. Plus however long a woman are prego. Plus I had my fingers to help. Plus.. I just used a lot of pluses.... Maybe I would have been good at math. Maybe.
"Normally, we wait for Soul Testing till they are 18 years old. But this is a special case. You're a special case. As per the parents request, if both parents are deceased, the embryo would be brought to term in an artificial womb. We can't tell you what happened to the parents. All we can say is that her father was KIA, and her mother was in a coma for many years and passed away recent." the doctor explained. "Once she was born, we performed a Soul Matching and found you."
"So, she's really is my soul mate. Are you sure? Like 100%?"
"She is, but there are issues." stated the Doctor. "She... doesn't have anybody."
"Nobody? What do you mean?" I said.
"No parents, no relatives, no... anybody." the doctor explained. "Legally, her next of kin would be called to take care of her. You, sir, happen to be her next of kin."
"I'm going to be a daddy?"
| 2015-11-30T12:28:23 | 2015-11-30T11:25:52 | 87 | 61 |
[WP] Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008.
|
My grandmother raised me.
I guess you could call her, ah, famous. She was a senator for a couple of decades, and so I guess some people in the state had heard of her. Really, I wasn't much interested. I hated politics; it gave me a headache. The only time I had to have anything to do with it was when I had to dress up nice and smile like a good little boy, while grandmother shed fake tears about how devastated she'd been when my parents had died, how happy she'd been to take me in. That was it. She never even forced me to go vote.
Okay, so. The tears weren't fake, probably. She was a woman not a statue, though she was damn close. Still, I'm not above a bit of editorializing, and hell I told you the truth in the end, yeah?
But anyways. She did push me to go into politics. "Make a difference" she said. "Stand in front of people instead of the glow of a computer screen." I think she didn't just like to see my smile...and yeah, alright, I guess she wanted me to make something out of my life.
Still, it doesn't mean I cried at her funeral.
She affected some people I guess, she was a senator, she had to have. And that's what mattered in heaven, how many people's lives you'd affected. I'm told she was damn proud of her rank, but that she bemoaned me, her pathetic grandson, who'd affect nothing but the buttons on his almost-broken laptop.
Ah but see, I was a writer.
No one famous. I'm no Stephen King, Jim Butcher, Brandon Sanderson, Tolkien, or the like. I just liked writing and I liked sharing my writing. I wrote novels that met mild success, I wrote short stories that won an award or two. But mainly I wrote online. Short stories, bad stories, long stories, happy stories, sad stories. All of it. Must've written thousands in my life. To my grandmother it was a waste of time.
To the thousands who'd stumbled upon even a single one of my stories, and been affected in some minor way by it - be it a smile, laugh, or tear - to them I meant something.
And that meant to heaven, I was level 3008.
Perhaps you'll read this and I may find myself going up levels even after I've died.
I'm mortal, you're mortal. The house you're in will fall away, governments will collapse, even the seas might even dry up. But words? They're around to stay.
***
Check [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) to be touched by some stories.
|
In life, you can gain points, for every 7 points you gained a level, which was shown upon an afterlife scoreboard that was hard to miss. In life certain actions gives you points that will, in the afterlife, give you a level, how the system works seems somewhat random. But it seems to be based on merits you have gained in life.
My Grandmother was a famous model in her youth, and fought for equity for everyone in this nation she was proud to be born in, she died poor, but loved. Having spent all her fortune on trying to solve the problem, the day after she died, every newspaper, both printed and online, every news source how amazing she was in life, she had beaten out several people who changed the nation for the better, and was in the top 10 000, something few managed to do, while for others she was a symbol of equity, to me she was a symbol of stress.
"When will you go back to school?", "Are you looking for a job?", "Why do you not have a girlfriend yet, when I was your age I had 2 children!" and so on, while I was sad to see her die, I was also kinda happy.
I never did go back to school, I spent my time at home, mining various types of crypto currencies, changing them from on to the other, I was never really rich, but I had a nice computer, I had company on Discords, and i found entertainment in my games, tv-series and such.
This made it all the more odd that I died at the ripe age of 108, childless, but content with my life, I did watch the 1000 movies to watch before you die, I did empty my anime backlog, and i did put in at least 10 hours of playtime in every steam game I owned.
Dying was weird, and going to the afterlife was weirder, in front of me was my personal scoreboard, you look down
| Actions | Points |
|:-----------|------------:|
| Watch Every movie you wanted to see | 250|
| Watch Every anime you wanted to see | 250|
| Watch Every tv-series you wanted to see | 250|
| Player Every game in your steam library | 1000|
| Die with no regret | 150|
| Die happy | 100|
| Helping that old lady over the street | 1|
| Beating Dark Souls | 180|
| Dying | 5|
| Reddit Karma | 18875|
| 2018-04-14T16:37:28 | 2018-04-14T14:57:18 | 1,856 | 382 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came.
|
I leaned back in my chair. The room they'd put us in was spacious, and I couldn't even find any of the cameras. Of the ten of us awaiting the test, only three were standing, all of them pacing back and forth.
"I can't believe I actually made it," the girl sitting across from me said.
"Someone must have liked your video," a Chinese-looking boy said. I was at least a little impressed that everyone gathered this time knew English; that hadn't always been the case.
"Well, which do you think you are?" someone else asked.
One of the people who'd been pacing, a well-dressed young man, stopped and turned to the table. "Don't be ridiculous. We're not meant to know that. That's why I'm first going to determine the other four bright ones, and we'll make sure the others don't drag us down."
"*Other* four?" someone asked.
"Great pep talk," I said under my breath.
"Yes, well," he continued, "normally I don't take part in silly displays such as this, but father thought it would be good publicity. So, if you five imbeciles could just stay in your corner and...eat paste, or whatever it is you do, that -"
"Big words coming from someone who didn't complete high school," I said with a smirk. I could see his face slowly turning red.
"I'll have you know I received the equivalent lessons from instructors who would have made your 'teachers' look like gorillas."
I nodded slowly. I knew he was a slow learner, but he had certainly had the best opportunities to learn.
"Hey, now, we need to get along," a woman said, standing. She was definitely the oldest among us.
"Or daddy's gonna have to pay off a judge," I murmured. I should be grateful he didn't hear me.
"Let's just introduce ourselves," she said. I inwardly groaned. Ice breakers were never fun. "I'll start. I'm Linda, from Pennsylvania."
"Well," the rich-looking man interjected, "My name is Richard Pendleton, the third, but you all know me. I'm -"
"Can I call you 'Dick'?" I asked. He squinted at me.
"No, I daresay you should not."
"How about you go next?" Linda gestured at me, hoping to prevent any arguments. I gave a slow nod, maintaining eye contact with Dick.
I stood up and looked around. At least the ones gathered were varied. Maybe not all races were represented, but it was a decent sampling. Except that there were only, like, three Asians, and Asia accounted for a huge portion of the planet's population.
"I'm Ben, from Henderson. Yeah, the cool one by Vegas."
"Can I call you -" Dick started, apparently not thinking his insult through. He stalled for a few moments, before sheepishly saying "Benjamin?"
I held back a snicker. "Sure."
The introductions continued; Maxim, from Russia; Shota and Ichika, both from Japan; Minjae, from Korea; Maite from Chile; Willow, from England; and Logan, from Canada. I let most of that pass right by me; I wasn't great with names in the first place, and the test wasn't memorizing stranger's information. But it would probably help the viewers at home.
"So, what is this test?" I asked once introductions were finally done.
"Haven't you heard of it?" Dick asked. "You must have seen reruns."
"They do a different test every time," Logan said. "Not like they have a shortage of time to get it set up in."
"Seems like a whole lotta trouble for one episode," Willow said.
"Like gathering the five smartest and five dumbest in the world?" I asked.
"I'm quite glad you're here to bring *down* the curve," Dick said, grinning at me.
"So you can be the best of the imbeciles?" I asked.
"That's enough out of both of you," Linda said. "Whatever the test is, we'll need to work together on it, okay? The 'smarter' five don't get any more prize money than the others."
I noticed a door across the room opening, and stood up. "Guess our bonding time is over. Let's get this over with."
|
I pace the waiting room. Up and down, up and down. Everyone is isolated from each other initially to prevent reading the others and finding out which group they came from. Well, most of the candidates knew which group they came from anyway. The room had a couch, a dresser, and a bit of refreshments on the small table in front of the couch.
"Well, figures I'd be the top 5 dumbest people in the world."
I smoked my way through high school and dropped out of college. For what? I thought I had a plan. My buddy and I, the start-up. Then shit went south and the fucker ditched me. Started doing odd-jobs, lived on the streets for a bit. Smoked a bit of this, shot up a bit of that. Got my ass beat so many times I barely feel physical pain anymore. Oh, that reminds me. If I'm going to humiliate myself on global television I might as well just do it while I'm feeling good and not getting the shakes. I'm sorry, mom, dad. I should have listened after all.
I pull out my syringe.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, to the 3rd GC! I am your host for today, Quin Jackson, and I am joined with my amazing co-host, Victor. The Generation Contrast is a decennial event, where by 5 of the brightest minds of each new generation has to work with the 5 dumbest minds of the generation for the GC test. Now the GCT has been set, funded and organised by an anonymous individual ever since the creation of the GC in 2020. Even I don't know who he is."
The crowd murmurs.
"Now, we are going to move on to the live interviews, where the participants will be interviewed individually in their respective waiting rooms." The crowd goes wild as the anticipation to see who were the lucky few to be chosen. Or unlucky.
"Now, we will be looking at James, 26, jobless. But one of the smartest men of the generation. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TO TOGETHER FOR-"
The stadium's large screen changed from the faces of the casters, to a man sitting in the waiting room with his face in ecstasy and his arm with a needle sticking out of it. His entire head was thrown back on the couch as his eyes rolled back.
|
As I shoot up, thoughts run wild in my head. What's going to happen to me after the GC? Will my life be better after being known as the biggest dumbass in the world? Fuck it, I might just off myself after this shit is done. I'll OD on whatever, feel good when I pass out at least. Or not, if I get money.
My thoughts clear as the my body circulates the liquid of the gods. That hits the fucking spot, Mable's stuff is damn good as always. As I roll back my eyes to enjoy the pleasure, the door opens.
And suddenly, the whole world can see me shooting up heroin.
|
"JAMES? WHAT THE-? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"
Quin turns off the mics and calms Victor down before he destroys the production desk.
"FUCK, HAVE YOU NOT DISGRACED THE FAMILY ENOUGH?" "Victor, you have to calm down. We have the biggest gig of the decade. Don't let your brother or anything stop you. And why are you pissed off? He's one of the brightest minds in his generation." "It must be a mistake. That doesn't make any sense for him to be here as one of the smartest. Dumbest, maybe, but not a snowball's chance in hell is he one of the smartest. You know what, professionalism. Let's get back to the show." Quin smiles at Victor.
Quin turns the mics back on.
"Er, James seems to be in, well, wonderland. We'll get back to him in a bit." "Apologies, everyone. I was not expecting my brother to be on the GC."
The crowd has mixed reactions, as Quin and Victor masterfully shifts the attention away from James and to the next participant.
"And moving on to the next brightest mind..."
EDIT: Formatting
| 2016-03-03T06:35:14 | 2016-03-03T05:47:53 | 151 | 26 |
[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.
|
Connivus cackled as he stood before us.
I blinked as the man walked out of the shadows. In his hands was a comical detonator.
A box with a large, blinking, red button. Most likely wired to the pallets of explosives we found on our walk into this warehouse.
Connivus looked good. New suit. New accessories. Like the earmuffs. He didn’t have those before, but I already knew why he had it.
He didn’t want to ever hear me speak to him again.
“I have to just push this button… and boom!” Connivus smiled as he stopped a few meters out. The man only looked at my team, and not me.
I pointed to my eyes, then to his face.
Connivus’s eyes widened as our eyes met. He couldn’t help it. It was reflex.
In that moment, my powers kicked in. I didn’t have super strength, speed, or energy powers.
No.
That would have been so nice.
Instead I had something far more sinister.
I could hear one’s inner voice.
Their dreams. Their hopes. Their fears.
I placed my fingers onto my jawline. Hands on either side of my face.
It mirrored his trimmed beard.
My left hand dipped, as my right hand raised.
Then I tilted it a centimeter.
Connivus froze and he nearly dropped the remote in his haste to touch his beard. His fantastic beard.
He tried to feel it. He had spent all morning grooming it. Those times in the bathroom staring at his own unchanging image. They blurred together as fear ran through his mind.
I raised my right hand and wiggled it. Good try my evil dude.
My disrespect triggered him.
Connivus, arch-villain of J-City could hear them of course. The words of his ‘loving’ parents. He was gay. He was ugly. He would always be a nobody.
The man began to hyperventilate and he turned around so that he could no longer see me.
His earmuffs stopped sounds. Worked for him, but not for us.
It was awkward and embarrassing. The way his sobs echoed in the room.
I sighed. I always felt like a dick using these powers. At least we stopped him from triggering the bomb that would ruin the docks.
Yet Quick Lighting did not snatch the remote.
Power Gambit did not charge over to take it.
Gear God did not deploy any traps or gadgets.
Mind Mistress did not knock Connivus into blissful unconsciousness.
I turned to my right. Where my team was standing.
They were also looking away.
Mind Mistress had her hand over her ears, and her eyes squeezed tight.
I stared at my team.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
————
Thanks for reading!
|
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
| 2020-02-25T12:34:34 | 2020-02-25T12:17:21 | 418 | 66 |
[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.
|
Late to the party as usual, but here goes.
In the human history there is man named Alexander whom they call 'the Great.' Alexander lead a vast army, which worshipped him, with which he conquered hundreds of kingdoms. He spread his noble culture to the far reaches of the world in an unbelievably short amount of time. However, there are legends that he was at least mildly insane. It is the belief of non-human species that this trait is what caused both him to be audacious enough to attempt the feats for which he became famous (even among the humans), and which humans are naturally more inclined. Man is mad, and it is that unrestrained human madness that pierces all other species with a cold dread when they hear, "Man is coming."
The humans have a saying: Ignorance is bliss. This sentiment, like the example of Alexander, lends credence to the cultural norm of willingly flinging themselves into high risk-high reward situations. Let me illustrate this with their first war, of many, with another species. The Luts were a race that was generally respected among the nobler galactic races, but today their name is spoken only after hesitation; it is not polite to bring it up in certain company. The Luts had sent a message to the humans that they owned the area into which the humans were expanding. It is unknown if they received or understood the message - it is most likely they simply ignored it. To Man's credit, the Luts did attack first.
After decimating the simplistic pioneer human ships, the Luts thought they'd be rid of the humans. It was the first exposure to alien technology they had ever had as a race. Surely they'd be conditioned not to fool with superior races. The Luts went back to their work and let their guard down.
Not a single standard solar cycle had passed when the Luts sent out distress signals to anyone who could receive them. The humans sent their entire space fleet to the exact coordinate where their first ships had been destroyed, opened fire with, would you believe it, physical and explosive projectiles, and did not let up for a single second for more than 500 hours straight. In space launching physical projectiles causes a ship to fly very unconventionally due to assymetric propulsions. Their ships flew crazily, absolutely impossible to anticipate their flight pattern. And if other human ships got in the way they were shot too! Energy shields do nothing against physical projectiles; the Lut ships, mining camps, colonies, everything was completey destroyed in the sector closest to the human home planet. In fact, human ships were still coming out of hyper-drive when their bombardment stopped, of course by that time the Luts had been obliterated. The point is, there's no way the humans had known about the energy fields' weaknesses, but in their ignorance they ran wildly into a fight. And they continued to run wild until the Luts, as they remain today, were economically crippled. As a side note, it is because of the humans that the new physhields had to be developed. But human ships? They continue to fly their ships naked, no shields at all.
Ok, I'm out of time. That's all.
Edit: Fixed some bad sentences, added a few words for thought clarity.
|
“Your Grace,” Eddie said, bowing. The King gestured for him to rise in one quick, almost bored, motion. Eddie rose, meeting the King’s eyes. His normally serene face had _twisted_ the past few weeks. The man kept his gray-tinged beard even, but it had grown wildly. Uneven and unlike His Imperial Majesty.
“What news do you bring?” he asked. Behind him Eddie noticed guards shuffle. Once this man fought on the front, notching dozens of kills to his name. Now he sat upon the gilded throne and guided the destiny of his empire.
Eddie hesitated—he knew the King would not like his words. “We launched the first strike. They suffered massive casualties, enough to cripple any world. Millions died.”
The King grinned. “Yes, of course they are crippled,” his voice shook with laughter. “Did I not say this is what would happen?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Eddie bowed his eyes in reverence. Then he continued, “but they’ve rallied. Millions are positioned to hit our western outposts. If those fall then they can strike at the capital of Novas, which would throw the entire western half of the empire into disarray.”
“What?” the King bellowed, rising from his throne. “Explain yourself, Commander Edward.”
Eddie bowed his head. “The casualties they suffered should’ve been enough to cripple. They should have surrendered. Instead they’ve taken every man, woman, and child capable of holding a weapon and have launched a counter offensive. We do not believe them to be overly skilled or organized, but their sheer numbers…”
The King retook his seat. His eyes turned away, hand steepled, face lost in thought. “How long until we can match them?”
“It’ll take us weeks to match their numbers.”
Anger flashed in the King’s eyes. “No, we don’t need to match them. Half of our elite paramilitary units should be enough. They’re skirmishers, not warriors. And once we’ve crushed them I will reunite this empire. Shattered by my forefathers, we will be whole again.”
“Your Grace… during the initial assault we also landed several brigades on the surface of their homeworld. Those men are dead,” Eddie said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You…! How many men have you cost us, Commander Edward? Your incompetence…” the King shook. His lips curled and he snarled. “How many lives will be lost because of you?”
Eddie remained silent, neglecting to mention the order he received. “I apologize, Your Grace. I will rectify this. I swear.”
The King said nothing for a moment. “No. Let them come.” Again the King looked away. “We can use their assault on Novas. Weaken them and some of our vassal colonies. Then reestablish our rule over the west and conquer Earth afterwards.”
“As your command, Your Grace.” Eddie saluted and turned to leave.
“Commander Edward,” the King’s voice called, “do not fail me.”
| 2017-03-06T00:34:43 | 2017-03-05T22:41:12 | 171 | 60 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid.
|
"..that you have the gall to sit here, not FIVE MILES from his throne, and spout that blasphemous babble is frankly astounding! I should strike you down where you stand, in the name of my teacher and master Balar!"
"I'm sitting..."
The young, round faced man's fists clench harder, knuckles turning from pale red to bright white.
"That's not- YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" The changes in pitch reveals the rollercoaster of mid-puberty. The fumbling through his cloak for his dagger reveals the lack of experience. The look of murder in his eyes shows belief.
"He doesn't take students boy. Especially when he is too busy swimming in our hard earned coin like a sow in mud!" The drunk looks pleased with himself at that one.
The young man- boy, glances towards the barkeep for backup. The haggard barman just stares at the simple, drunk man at the table, petrified.
"I don't think a blade needs to come between us boy." The drunkark smirks. "We don't want to start-HICK-a row not five miles from his" he waves his hands in the air mockingly "Grand Lord's throne." He spits on the ground and smacks the back of the patron next to him, eliciting no response from his drinking companion.
"YOU WILL ADDRESS HIM AS-"
"His brooding "black robes hide fat so it's my whole wardrobe" arch-magnificence?" The drunk raises his mug in triumph at this biting piece of wit to the other patrons as if holding a trophy. There is no applause.
The boy finally manages to unsheath his dagger, a great feat, and holds it to the drunks throat. "I will show you what a student of Balar can do to trash like you." The blade moves further than expected, the effect of an untrained hand. A drop of crimson pools on the tip of the blade.
"Now now, that's not sporting..." The boy hears the drunk, a booming voice that wells up from inside, but doesn't see him speak. "Your master teach you to threaten an unarmed man? I always thought he was the honorable type." The lips don't open, but the smirk grows.
"My teacher, the Dark Majesty Balar, fights as he pleases!"
The boy glances at the other patrons, surely some would have the decency to stand up for the name of their ruler. Nothing. No one says a word. None stand from their tables. In fact, none of them are moving to help at all. None of them are moving... at all. Mugs mid-way to their lips. Forks in front of mouths, meat sliding off. The bodies don't move, but their eyes are fixed, wide with fear, at the drunk smiling at the table. The boy can feel his own stomach.
Have they been frozen here this whole time? He can't remember seeing anyone moving from when he first approached the braggadocios drunk. He doesn't remember anyone speaking up, or laughing as they did when the smirking man was spouting his heresy. It has been quiet this whole time, no sound but the man's voice. It bubbled up again.
"You are quite right about that."
The boy can hear something now, not just the voice. A whine? No, a wheeze. Its faint but its not alone. It seems to be coming from the people next to him, eeking out in high pitched whispers. He moves his gaze to the companion of the drunk. The whites of the man's eyes are turning red now; his skin a deepening purple and blue. He spins his head to survey the room. Half of the people look the same, the other half have gone pale; eyes rolling into the domes of their skulls. He stares at the mug in front of one man's mouth, no fog on the glass. None of their chests are moving.
"Everyone laughed boy. All of them. Every foul word. Every insult and mockery leveled at their master. Every time another barb was flung by me, this room echoed with their joy, their disgust, their treason. Everyone but you..." The blood on the dagger poured in reverse, off the blade and back into the smirking- no, his face is stern now. Somehow older but more striking. His face is bone white. The veins, black under the skin, stand out like patterns in marble. The blood, much darker now, finds it's way back into the wound, the cut gently sealing itself.
"Its a test you see?" He lifts his hand and slowly pushes the blade away from his throat, but never touches it. "And they have all failed..."
The wheezing stops. The boy can no longer see the shades of purple and blue, only the pale husks of the once raucous crowd.
"Loyalty. Whether through fear or love. Loyalty to me... and my name."
The boy can feel his chest freeze. His arms are locked, his feet are stone. His eyes widen as the man stands and the room grows dark. He can feel the last of his breath leaving.
"And you used mine when you shouldn't have."
|
Agileas sobered up, thread of Water inward; an old trick developed at an age younger than the boy standing in front of him. "You? An apprentice of the Dark? Don't make me-"
A needle of Earth; poison and buzzing, shot through his vacated chair, a coat of Fire surrounding it and hiding the hole it had made. Air rushed out, toxins threatening to invade; easily dispelled with a burst of Air of his own. "Sh-hut UP!" the boy shouted.
Agileas sighed. Not only did he not recognise the boy; he was also far younger than his usual set of apprentices and too emotional by half. Use emotions, yes; fools of the Light preached numbness and sterility. Be used by emotions, no: that way only laid pain, at best. "Boy's had too much to drink," he shouted over the din; other patrons figuring out there was a magic duel happening and preparing accordingly. He counted five crossbows and two sets of throwing daggers, not to mention the regular sidearms. "I'll sober him up with some water. Or Water, I don't know yet!"
"Just do it outside, Saag!" the bartender shot back before demonstratively going back to serving a drink.
A flick of Air and a rush of Water and the boy was washed out of the establishment, while a waft of Fire and Air flash-dried the floor before anything could seep in. Agileas took a bow and threw a gold coin into the till before leaving, mind already on the next spells he needed to employ. One weave of Air: a curtain to deaden sound's escape. One heavy wave of Water, in case someone was looking. One stab of Earth; a wall behind to block flight. One thrust of the Dark, left and up to the centre of mass.
He hadn't anticipated the slash of Earth and Dark, and it took him aback, impacting on his heavily bespelled tunic. He grunted with the impact, but the tunic had experienced worse and absorbed it as it ought, fuelling the Dark Lord's own counter, instinct picking apart the Magic and distributing it accordingly. "You *are* a student of the Dark Lord," Agileas mused softly as he walked up; voice unmagically modulated to carry to the paralysed boy of maybe fourteen winters. "Yet I do not recall you." In fact, he made a point to not take apprentices under nineteen winters old, to remove the worst of age-induced temperament. "That spell is one of my favourites."
The boy was pale in the moonlight, the dagger of Dark inches from his heart. "Yo... You..." The dagger receded. "You're not Him."
That was the voice of someone who believed something could not possibly be true; not a mere statement of denial. "I am," the Dark Lord countered, studying the half-foot shorter boy with one hand behind his back. One hand that wove Water and Dark in a spiral; and with a swirl, the spell went into the boy's head. "Name, age, rank, date, fourth invocation."
"Ignat, fourteen winters and a spring, Apprentice Seventh, Sixth of Harvest Moon and Thirteenth of Begaz," the boy recited dully, before uttering a string of words in Low Elvish. Then, to the Dark Lord's surprise, his spell wavered. "Agi...le...aasssssssssssss."
The Dark Lord Agileas was not easily taken aback, yet in nine words and one invocation, the boy had managed to do so. Water and Earth receded, Dark was quashed, and Air kept the boy upright; his own magic rushing back and... Submitting. That, if nothing else, proved the veracity, yet questions remained. "Ignat, Seventh, we will have words after the sun rises on the morn. I have questions, and you will answer them, through Water and Dark if I must, but the Worm Moon of the Twelfth demands sacrifice." He had *hoped* to ply one of the drunkards into his ritual, but after what had just happened, that was futile. "Something you ought to know as a Seventh."
"I... I do..." the boy said, still weak, unsurprisingly. The weave wasn't known for being subtle or painless. Nor did the Dark Lord know anyone who could resist it except himself, until now. "I... This isn't the Thirteenth of Begaz? It... It actually worked?"
Myriad questions arose. The Dark Lord suppressed them. Now was not the time. Not if he had to find a sacrifice. "We will talk on the morn. For now..." he cut Air and Dark and Earth, only to meet a lance of Fire. "Boy."
"I... I remember what happened. A... A peasant's child... Fr... From here." Eyes widened. "Her!"
Air and Earth grabbed, and a waif of a girl, seven winters if that, came flying out of an opened window.
| 2022-01-14T16:46:19 | 2022-01-14T15:38:16 | 110 | 56 |
[WP]The pagan gods watch with amusement as humanity still remember them by naming their mightiest vessels after them, long after they stopped worshiping them. When war against aliens break out, the old gods subtly aid the humans, not wanting the last homage to them to be taken lightly.
|
Frontiersman Lucian Xan's blood flowed freely down his brow until it met his jawline. It pooled on the tip of his chin and then dripped downward, unnoticed and unimportant. "How many are we looking at? I'm getting nothing but squid on the local."
Jack Studde snorted, "More than it's worth countin'." He gave a hapless shrug, "Only so many bullets to fire sometimes Luke. We've done what we could."
Xan's eyes watered as the smoke from the fire began to cloud the cockpit, causing the viewscreen to blur. The red blinking notification was clear enough. "We didn't get a clear line. The message isn't getting out."
"They'll know well enough when the *Hermes* doesn't report in. Sometimes shooting the messenger is message enough." Jack yanked on the release to his harness, letting some of the pressure off of his chest. Just above his breast was a small winged sandal with the name Studde emblazoned above it. "Wish we'd brought bigger guns. They say the new models got grav pulses."
Lucian sighed, "Yeah, well, it was supposed to be quiet out this way. Squids are supposed to be a few hundred AU the other direction." He slammed the heel of his hand on the panel in front of him, willing the engine back to life. They were dead in the black, their ion drive knocked offline. The squids would have them tractored in soon enough.
They needed a bit of luck, that or the grace of God.
Xan pulled up the comms relay, funneling in the last bit of power in a vain hope of getting the message out. *Thor* was only a hop and a skip behind them, close enough to make it before the air ran out in their suits. The warship had been pulverizing everything in its path, its mass drivers inexplicably performing beyond specifications on multiple occasions. His fingers flew across the panel, the spiderweb of cracks ignored as he attempted to call out.
The last bit of power trickled down, the lights dimming in the ship. "Auxiliaries almost gone," Jack called out.
Lucian ignored him, his attention focused on the little red blinking notification on relay readout. "C'mon you god damned--"
A small flare appeared, the readout flickering for the briefest of moments to show a pair of winged sandals. The red notification blinked out and re-appeared, a cool minty green. "Sonuvabitch..." Xan yelled out. "It's out!"
The lights blinked out, shrouding the ship in darkness.
"What?" Jack asked, the flexglass helmet stored in his collar unfurling and sheathing his head. A small 100% number appeared on his shoulder, indicating his oxygen supply.
"The relay, it got the message out. *Thor* should have it in a few minutes." Lucian frowned down at the local, "Probably not enough time to save our asses, but at least home has a warning that they've got squids pounding down their back door."
\---
"Captain, we've got a priority inbound from the edge. *Frontiership Hermes.* Distress." The comms officer swore, "We've got squids, Ma'am. Whole fleet of them. *Hermes* is disabled."
"Stow it and keep focused Lieutenant. Send a relay back earthward and let's get them some backup," Captain Lawless commanded, her steely grey eyes darting between the bridge crew.
"Captain, we don't know what we're up against, the message just said a fleet of squids." Comms Officer Lucas replied even as he prepared the relay message back home.
"Let me worry about that Lucas, just get us there." She sat in her command chair, her shoulders squared forward, the golden lightning bolt emblazoned on her chest twinkling in the light. "This is the *Thor*, we've got the hammer."
&#x200B;
[**PART 2 RIGHT HERE ON MY SUB. EVERYONE DIES. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT FOR DEMANDING MORE.**](https://www.reddit.com/r/PerilousPlatypus/comments/alzoo6/wppart_1_2_the_pagan_gods_watch_with_amusement_as/)
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
&#x200B;
|
Ītzpāpālōtl was not typically a god that got much attention, if any, since the fall of her faithful to the cursed fire belchers. That did not mean she took any rest from her constant vigil over the realms of all who might one day return their faith to her so that she could bestow upon them the strength that she so feverently wished to unleash upon creation yet again. Even as the others rose and fell in strength depending on both faith and how thin they spread themselves she waited. She could not be satisfied with small trinkets and minor miracles. Ītzpāpālōtl would be reborn once more in the throes of death.
So she watched. And she waited. Until that final and fateful day in which she found her chance to return to the realm of the mortals on her own terms.
“Captain we have breaches on all decks! The AI core just suffered a catastrophic failure!” The Obsidian Butterfly shuddered as another hit rocked the bridge.
“Get it back online!” Captain Teal hissed as she slammed a fist onto the control panel before her. Red indicators were flashing at her across the entire screen.
“Sir! We have to retreat!” She could see the panicked looks on most of her crew as they looked for her guidance even as the ship faltered around them. The invasion fleet was entirely beyond anything they’d been expected to deal with however, if it got past them there wasn’t another task group for several systems and they’d have free reign to claw straight through the unprepared colonies they were here to protect.
“We’re dead without shielding anyway!” She counted with a point at the screen. “If we can destroy the gate we can blunt their invasion here and now! Survival isn’t an option! We don’t fight for us but for our families! So get that AI back online!” She screamed once more even as repair crews rushed across the bridge to put out fires.
“Incoming lance!” She heard the warning a second too late and the bridge suddenly seemed to be several meters to the side of where she was sure it should be as she was tossed from her chair. There was more screaming and another explosion before things went dark. A second later the bridge was cast in the blood red glow of emergency lighting and raging fires.
“No! We can’t die yet!” She screamed as she clawed her way back up to her chair only to look through a fresh vent in the side of her ship. She could see the tumbling remains of the rest of the fleet as the invaders pressed in towards the gate. They weren’t even waiting around to confirm their kill. Why should they care? With a scream she slammed her hand onto the console trying to somehow will the AI back into existence.
Then to her shock the bridge flashed a moment as the main power came back on and the screen cleared up. “S… sir! I’ve got… the reactor is redlining! We’ve got… these power readings can’t be right… but it’s unstable! We’ve got maybe five minutes before it ruptures!”
The Captain opened her mouth but the central holo flashed and she heard gasps as a new figure showed up. “Is that a new xeno?” Asked a surprised crew besides her. The figure looked… horrific. It seemed to be some sort of woman that was so gaunt as to be skeletal, but with massive black wings of some kind extending from around her back. The wings didn’t look like feathers though… they looked like stone of some kind.
“Identify yourself!” The Captain demanded.
**You must give me your faith. Give me this alone and I shall deliver unto you all you seek.**
The ship seemed to freeze around the captain then. She could see the panic on the faces of her crew, she could see bodies drifting through the void, she could see the lethal radiation warnings, and she could see just how close the enemy were to opening the gate and being beyond her reach. “You have it.”
Things sped up and the image flickered away from the holo. “Captain! I have full weapons power! The prototype is active! Engines are back too! What are your orders? Do we try to run? Captain? Captain Teal what are your orders?!”
Her eyes opened calmly. “I am the Obsidian Butterfly. And our death. Shall be. **Glorious!**”
| 2022-03-30T20:52:43 | 2019-01-31T21:24:00 | 2,124 | 188 |
[WP] You die and are greeted in the afterlife by the all knowing God (choose one), ready to judge you. However, for some reason he has no recollection of you ever existing.
|
So, this is Heaven, huh? Looks pretty accurate to me. All golden arches and white clouds— what is this, McDonalds?
I'm standing in front of the stereotypical God. Huge guy, jacked as all hell, long white beard and hair. He looks down at me with deep, all-knowing blue eyes.
"Hi," I wave to him.
His thick eyebrows weave together in confusion. You'd think everyone in Heaven would have perfect eyebrows, but no. They're bushy and wild— come on, God, step up your game.
"Who are you?" he booms, voice like rolling thunder. Wow, that's cliché. Tone it down a bit, would you?
"Uh, aren't you supposed to know that?" I ask, scratching my head. "You know, since you're all-knowing and all that."
God is frowning at me. Ah, shit. I'm gonna get smited or whatever now, aren't I? Three minutes into Heaven and I've already pissed off God.
"Yes," he says slowly, puzzled, "And yet I do not know you."
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. "Well, damn. So how 'bout this whole Heaven thing? Do I still get in?"
Honestly, I don't see the big deal about this. God doesn't know me, so what? He's got a lot of things on his mind.
God shakes his head. "How do I know if you've done something terrible in life? What if I'm letting a murderer in here?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Only things I've ever killed were bugs."
"Not yourself?" God questions.
"Not myself," I confirm. "Think I got in a car crash, honestly."
God produces a newspaper out of nowhere— he doesn't have any pockets or anything, and from the way the paper is rolled up, I'm *really* hoping that didn't come from where I think it did. He unfurls it and his eyes skim over it. "This you?" he asks, pointing at the front-page story, a car wreck.
"Sure," I say, "That's my car."
God rubs his temples and sighs, reading the article. "This name doesn't ring any bells. Who— Jesus Christ—"
Well, at this point, the guy who I assume is the literal fucking Jesus Christ pops up. "Sup, Dad," he says, and his dad looks even more irritated. "Whatcha want?"
"Who's this kid?" God asks, gesturing to me. Jesus Christ looks me over, shrugging.
"I dunno."
"M'name's Jack," I supply helpfully. God shakes his head. "So, are you gonna let me in?"
"I just— sure, whatever. Just go in, I don't— I hate my job," God sighs.
Jesus Christ waves goodbye to me. That's pretty fucking cool.
|
“Name?”
An imposing figure sat on a large golden throne in front of me.
“Uh, K.. Kevin” I stammered, “Kevin Muh.. Mc Sweeney”
His eyes bored into me, weighing my words, measuring my worth.
“Kevin, is it? Let me see here.” He riffled through a large tome with miniscule writing and I could swear I saw the text writhe and crawl over the page.
“I don’t seem to have someone by that name with your description” He measured me once more and slowly closed the book. He let his fingers trail down his beard, suddenly looking very old indeed.
“Now that I think on it, there is something strange about your presence.” His eyes widened with shock “You are not one of mine”
His large finger pointed at me, trembling. Spittle flying from his mouth as He rose from his throne.
“Impossible” He screamed, “it cannot be, only I have the power to grant life. Only I am GOD”
His eyes darted up as robed figures with folded wings entered the room. They held a staff in one hand and a shield in the other, unblinking as they made a ring around us. Once in their position a young man walked in, dark skinned and sporting long tousled hair.
“Father” he said, bowing and raising with his fist to his chest “I am sorry that it had to come to this but it was I who brought Kevin here.”
The young man looked at me and smiled with what I could only describe as pride.
“Jesus?” God whispered.
“I am sorry father but I could not stand by any longer. I watched as you set man against man in bloody warfare. I sat on my hands when you wiped out half of your children with disease. I even bit my tongue when you turned Nature Herself against them. But this time you have gone too far.”
“You ungrateful …” God began with a snarl.
“SILENCE” Jesus rose his hand and all the soldiers rose their staff in unison. He looked at me and beckoned me to join him.
“I have spent millennia trying to create life. I have dreamed of this moment since my own father let them take my life. Oh, I have failed and wept as my creations would breath life only to be extinguished a moment later. But you my beautiful son, are my first success and will be the herald to a new Genesis.”
As he dropped his arm to embrace me, forks of lightning arced from the staff of each soldier and engulfed a weeping God.
As His ethereal body began to unravel, He called out “Why?”
Jesus looked at him with sadness in his eyes. He coughed and steeled himself and looked down at his father and said “of all the travesties you have unleashed on the world, Donald Trump is just unforgivable.”
| 2016-11-18T05:46:12 | 2016-11-18T03:43:20 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] The human lifespan is the lowest in the galaxy. That alone is why they are the most dangerous.
|
"A lifetime is of achievement in just under 100 years...." doctor Arkengarth said. Most cuil considered dying at 500 to be infant death. Most people called "earth" the "rock of infant death" since longevity seemed to only be present in some plants.
However here stood the fleet of 1000000 human warships full of humanity's best pilots and landing teams. They had "eaten" an entire resort planet, built a absorption spheres around 4 stars, and were tenfold bigger than when they were dismissed as a threat by the galactic war suppression effort. They did this in the time most would take a short vacation.
Dr arkengarth had been trailing the human conquest, originally sent ahead to warn other planets, but every one he got to had been completely conquered and altered to fit human design. It seemed that the humans learned how to travel past the speed of light (not that anyone else needed to go that fast, they were patient enough to wait 1000 years).
The humans were fast, faster than light, communication, lifespan, but just as expirenced
|
“Humans are so weak, can’t even accomplish one thing in their lifetime.” Lo snickers.
“That’s what makes them so dangerous, we get millions of years to mature, it takes atleast 5000 years for us to simply choose our career.” the queen of the house explains. “They simply know how to choose their career already at 18 because they have such a short time.”
“Yet they can’t even get out of their own solar system.” Lo shrugs.
“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, in probably just a 10000 years, they’ll already be colonizing nearby planets.” the queen responds. “All because they have to work quickly and efficiently.”
“THEY’LL WHAT!?” Lo questions. “THAT FAST!?”
The queen of the house turns from the orb and faces Lo on the metal floor. She reaches out her gold like tentacle so Lo can get up. Infact, what the queen just said is simply a sugarcoat for what the humans can actually do in 10000 years.
| 2022-12-28T02:40:51 | 2022-12-28T01:58:38 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] You and 49 others wake up in a weird room. An automated message then begins playing: "For the next 50 years, you will race one another. You have been modified to remain ever youthful. Whoever gets to a checkpoint last is killed. You can use any means to get there. Your first checkpoint? Mars."
One little detail that I intended to add is that the participants are absolved of any crime except murder.
|
"So nobody goes," she said, eying the door warily. "If nobody ever goes to Mars, none of us will be last to get there. Problem solved."
"That doesn't address how we got here or why this is happening," said the larger man. His hair was slicked back like a Jersey greaser and he wrote a long coat with the sleeve torn. He must have put up a fight when they took him.
"We can't do anything about that," said a voice of reason coming from a diminutive black man seated across the chamber. "We can only proceed with what we know on the best course of action we can."
The greaser was nonplussed. "I don't buy it. What if somebody sneaks off and goes there? How can I trust you?"
The first girl laughed. It was a welcoming sound after the confusion we had all been through. "It's Mars, silly. Another planet. We'll know if someone here becomes an astronaut. Don't worry so much."
They looked around the room at everybody's faces, as if to note "I'll be watching the news for you." The black man spoke up.
"I suppose we should all be thankful. We are immortal, and this is a race, not a chase. We can spend forever in leisure."
An Asian woman seated next to him smiled. "You know, you're right. This won't be so..."
The smile turned to surprise, then confusion, then fear as she slumped to the floor. On her back, crawling implacably forward, was the Snail.
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gilding!
|
Darryl calmly washed his hands at the stainless steel basin, watching the rose-tinged water swirl away into the recess of the drain with his remaining good eye. It had been a miserable couple of sleepless weeks, outlasting the other 48 people in this sick experiment room they had awoken within. But in the confusion and panic of the first few nights, Darryl had managed to surreptitiously dispatch enough of his fellow competitors to gain a bit of a head start.
“Mmph. Head start,” he mumbled to himself, trying to chuckle despite the raspy dryness of his throat tightening on him at the thought of some of his violent actions against the skulls of others. That last one, with the claw hammer, would inevitably stay with him a while. Darryl caught his breath speeding up to hyperventilation again at the revisitation of specific memories, so he dropped into a crouch and focused on steadying his breathing.
Darryl softly chanted it was all going to be ok over and over to himself, feeling himself begin to relax. Standing up slowly, he nudged aside the ruined body of his competitor and reminded himself that he had his youth restored, endless resources, and all the time in the world now to work on the problem of getting to Mars.
“After all, if I’m the only racer I can’t help but be first ,” was Darryl’s final thought before the jolt of electricity struck him dead.
A few minutes passed, and then an intercom crackled to life in the ceiling.
“Clean up in box 4, another sociopath got past human resource screening.”
| 2018-06-01T10:26:43 | 2018-06-01T09:28:37 | 3,151 | 180 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
|
She looks behind her like a wary forest animal. Something is watching her, but she does not see. A shudder, and then she quickens her pace. Probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Her heart is thumping loudly now. One more glance behind her. Was that a figure?
"Is someone there?"
A reply. "Hello."
| 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 2015-01-05T21:23:15 | 364 | 95 |
[WP] After bitting a Fae, the Vampire claims that she must serve him, for his bite converted her into his thrall. The Fae claims that the Vampire must serve her, for the vampire ate fae food without her permission. As none of them is willing to give up, they bring the case to you, a lawyer.
|
"Ah but is she really considered food? the pale man spoke, his fangs showing between words. He smirked as he flipped to another card in a thick stack held in his hands.
"Firstly, you don't need those. Secondly, that would be a fair point if you hadn't specifically tried to eat her." The goat-legged woman across the table glared to him with distaste, the two dots on her neck still appearing fresh. If they hadn't come I'm sure they would instead be fighting in a street somewhere. Or maybe they already had.
"You two do realise that two facts may be true at once, right? Oh and also might I add that the biting of ones neck against their will constitutes as assault. Possibly with a deadly weapon."
The vampire, who asked to be called Lord Blaspheme (to which I promptly refused but he gave no other monicker), flicked through his stack, eventually landing on another card. "Ah possibly! But if she counts as food then that just means I was feeding, not assaulting." He followed his words up with a confident smirk and flick of his cape, an action that may have looked better standing up, but probably not.
"It felt pretty assaulting to me." Dinna replied, to which...*Lord Blaspheme* seemed to shrink a bit.
"Ok, ok. So he attacks you, which makes you a thrall, but he ate fae food, which gives you power over him, yes?" They both shook their heads in forced agreement. Then each went to speak further, to which I sushed them individually. Magical creatures had a habit of making things more complex than they really were. Us orcs made things simple. As I would do now.
"You have two choices. The way I see it, either you two fight to submission and the loser serves the winner, my personal favorite. Or, if that doesn't suit you then you may split the servitude. Lord Blaspheme, you get Friday to Sunday, Dinna "Light-Hoof", Monday to Thursday."
Blaspheme jumped up in protest, fangs bared. "Three days?! She gets four!"
"Yes. You get three days and no assault charges. She gets four and doesn't file assault against you." The vampires eyes widened, then narrowed, then widened again. He slowly fell back down into his chair and with a soft voice mumbled, "Yeah that sounds good I guess."
Dinna on the other hand sported a wide smirk ever since my ruling. "Ok, pretty boy. Either I kick your ass again or we agree to get along. Oh, and what day is it today?"
"Yeah...fine whatever." He flicked his cape again, this time sadder than before, and let his stack of cards fall to the floor. " It's Tuesday...what do you request of me." he spoke solemnly.
"Firstly, pick up those cards and pay the nice man for his time. We can discuss the rest at my hovel." If I hadn't known any better I could've sworn Dinna winked at the utterance of the word "hovel". And so Lord Blaspheme followed, looking defeated. With one last cape flick they were out of my hair, leaving room for a new mismatched magical meeting.
In next walked a Minotaur and an Imp.
|
The benefit of age is the opportunity of exploration, expericing new situations, and a wealth of personal anecdotes to amuse friends. Lawyer across species often quarrel with one another about the intricasies of case law, or squabble over generational rivalries, but the universal law when dealing with cross-species cases was that teenagers were absolutely the worst. That's where I came in.
"She bite me right before lunch! It's not like this is complicated. Clearly, eating fae food without my explicit approval is tantamount to Section 3, subs-"
Holding up my hand, I pointed out on page in front of her, "Only items as listed in Subsection A. Unless you are deferring to Section 8, Part 3 amended with the only case where Fae cannibalism was suggested, but not proven."
"Hah! See? That means you're my thrall!" The were-woman hollered out, almost frenzied with hairs standing on the back of her neck.
It was my turn again to hush the pair of them as they started to argue. "First off, you are already on probation, and are in violation of your parole. You should see to it that you speak to your juvenile public case defender." I sighed closing the book with a quiet "thwump." The old leather was no match for the test of time, but it was surprisingly quiet as the pair listened.
"Second, as you can clearing see by her behaviour," pointing to the Fae. "She has complete control over her faculties and thus cannot be your thrall at this stage. If that was the case, you would have exerted your mastery over her by this stage. Even a juvenile werewolf or were-woman would be able to overpower a similarly aged Fae."
The Fae pouted at this comment. I hadn't needed for her to provider her name, her powers or any other personal information. Just suggesting that she lived in the nicer part of the forest, wandering around at midnight on a festival frequented by were-people meant she was naive. That and her Fae Scout badge betrayed her age.
"At this stage, your Fae victim would normally be allowed to press charges of assault. But, given her age, and that she is likely lost from her group, I think her guardians might be more interested in her presence."
The were-woman howled, the Fae continued to pout. I climbed down from the step ladder I frequently brought. "I suggest that you wait for the parole officer for your were-woman, and continue to put pressure on the arm to prevent excessive bleeding. The bandage I brought is only temporary."
Zipping up my briefcase, I handed them both my card. "You have my summoning card, please summon when should you require my services."
The Fae perked up, "But you haven't decided who should serve who!"
I smiled. "You two are too young. A court would throw both of your cases out immediately if you two weren't thrown in the dungeon by your parents." Pointing at the Fae, "You, seek medical attention."
Switching to the were-woman. "You, wait for the parole officer. Goodnight."
| 2022-07-11T19:23:26 | 2022-07-11T19:00:25 | 104 | 52 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D
|
The unintelligible cries of the gym employees rang out as the room darkened around Brett. Then, everything was silent. Even his own gasps faded into nothingness. As if from afar, he felt the pressure lift from his neck -- but too late. His windpipe had been crushed.
Had he only asked for a spot, he would have lived to do another set. But yea, though he was in beast mode, he went too far. Whilst trying to bench (like 350 bro and he was just getting warmed up), he had decided to take a selfie for the ladies on instagram. Alas, like so many tragic heroes before him, Brett's fatal flaw was hubris. And yea, though he was no doubt in beast mode, he was yet unable to snap a selfie while doing reps, and the bar fell upon his throat, extinguishing his life.
Yet he died a hero, and like all heroes of the gym who died in battle, he ascended to Swaghalla, the Hall of Brodin. However, Brett had a secret -- a secret that made him unworthy of Swaghalla. Soon, that secret would become his undoing.
He was greeted at the gate by Brodin himself. The wizened old man was totally ripped, his one eye bulging and his beard all white flowing and shit.
"Sup, bro?" spake Brodin.
"What the hell is this place?"
"It's Swaghalla, bro! You come here when you die in a gym!"
"Oh," said Brett.
"You're gonna love it bro," Odin continued, "You gotta check out the feasts, every kind of pre-workout you can think of."
Odin leaned in conspiratorially and whispered:
"And the bitches--"
He was cut off mid-sentence by an inhuman scream.
"What the hell was that?!" Brett shrieked like a little girl.
"Oh shit bro it's Jörmadgains! Giant fuckin' snake that eats the world and shit! We gotta fight it, bro, you ready?"
"What? N--"
"Let's go!" Brodin half-dragged Brett along to the battlefields of Gymgard. With them came the hosts of Swaghalla, all of whom were, like, super jacked. Out on the Cardio Fields, they saw it: Jörmadgains. Imagine a giant snake, but like, totally *cut* somehow. That was what Jörmadgains looked like.
For weeks, months, and years fought the hosts of Swaghalla. How long exactly even they did not know. Despite their overwhelming swag, many of them fell to Jörmadgains. The snake writhed and bit at the host of Midgard, but somehow Brett survived unscathed for a time.
Then one day as the sun dawned over Gymgard, Jörmadgains pinned Brett down by his chest with its tail. Flailing madly, his legs hit something -- another part of the snake. Desperate, he wrapped his legs around it and squeezed.
"Holy shit bro you got its fuckin neck keep squeezing you got this!" Brodin shouted.
Brett drew his legs tighter still around the neck of Jörmadgains. But like I said, the snake was pretty jacked, even around the neck area, do snakes technically have necks even. And alas, Brett had another fatal flaw beside hubris, a secret he had told to no one:
Brett had skipped leg day.
|
I stood up slowly. My biceps rippled with excitement and nerves as I stared forward. A shining bastion of glory stood in front of me. Thousands of meters tall it rose in front of me. The structure was adorned with barbells on every wall. The shining gold tinge of the metal wall was a soft blind to my eyes as I stared. Eventually, the door's swung open with mysterious intent. And what was inside took away even my deepest of breaths.
Thousands of men and millions of Snapback hats layed in front of me. Rippling arm muscles and pectorals were in every angle as Arm Wrestles were happening on every table, and on every table, a single Keg was pouring luscious beer. My heart trembled as I knew I had found my heaven. A singular tear fell down my cheek as I was at a loss for words.
"Pussy!" came a voice from behind me. A man standing several meters tall stared down at me. He was wearing shorts and van shoes, as well as a shirt that said "Your mum".
"Righteous shirt" I said back to not antagonize the man anymore.
"Fuckin duh dude" He chuckled back. "I know. Welcome to the halls of Brodin. You've come to Swaghalla".
"Swaghalla?" I implored.
"For eons men have been finding a reason to die." He ushered his hands forward gesturing me to walk with him. "Some have found there peace in Combat. And they go to Valhalla."
"Dude, have you fuckin' seen the new Mad Max?" I practically yelled out with excitement.
"Uh, holy shit, is that even a question? Dude, it's rad as fuck". He pointed to a man some distance away and yelled loudly "Mediocre!" From the direction he pointed thunderous laughter boomed. "As I was saying" he stated before passing me my very own Keg.
"The men who die in Combat go to Valhalla. The ones who die after spending there life banging total hotties go to Gonorrhalla."
"What happens to those who die a quiet death?" I asked.
"Who the fuck cares they sound like total virgins dude." I nodded in agreement.
"Most importantly the ones who die, die like us with protein shake in hand or barbell on chest come here. To Swaghalla. Where we shall drink till our gullets are full, where we shall make fun of Tiny Jerry for only being able to bench 120kg. Where we shall live with the honor of bugling muscles. Where we shall never do leg day. So what say you Warrior of the Gym? Shall you take arms in our conquest?"
"Conquest?"
"The conquest of gains of course!" I was starstruck from his words, my throat tensed up as my hands got clammy. I could feel my heart thumping along as if I had just done a bunch of Ectasy before going to Defqon 1.
"I shall join the conquest Sire!" I erupted to my feet and launched my hand into the air. "My lord, I ask, what is your name?" I held my hand forward to shake his. My $1 dollar plastic bracelet with the words "Hustle" written on it hung loosely.
"Zyzz" He responded swinging his hand forward. "You made it, Brah".
| 2015-11-02T06:45:10 | 2015-11-02T06:29:43 | 257 | 83 |
[WP] Write a college essay that starts with, "Sometimes, I wish I could just go onto a roof with a sniper rifle..."
Source: http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/35hits/college_admissions_officers_what_was_the_worst/cr4khqk
Edit: This got a lot of responses.
Edit 2: This is my highest post in months.
I should post more.
|
Sometimes I wish I could go onto a roof with a sniper rifle. My enemies would stand no chance against the onslaught of bullets shot at them because finally I would be on their level. The thin limbed trees which the satan spawn liked to scurry up would no longer be a safe haven. Their taunting chitter-chatter would turn to blessed silence when for the first time in a squirrel's life it fell from a tree. A furry body with a bullet hole would sully my pristine lawn. "You want to make a mess on my shrubbery? Well then instead of acorn shells and squirrel poop, your own bodies can fill the role." Glorious, it would be glorious. Too bad I was a dog, unable to even shoot a sniper rifle. So I barked menacingly a few times at the wretches and then forgot about them as I ran off to sniff the delicate scent of another dog's derrière.
|
Sometimes, I wish I could just go onto a roof with a sniper rifle. It would really make handling my insecurities a lot easier. Am I not feeling too attractive today? That's fine, the pretty girl with the bow in her hair is now missing her face. Compared to her I'm pretty fuckin' good looking, huh? I haven't been going to the gym recently? The guy in the muscle tank with shoulder striations? Missing a torso. Next to him now, I'm the perfect human form. Maybe I failed a test yesterday and am feeling stupid? Bookworm kid with rimmed glasses takes one right to the head, through his copy of *Catcher in the Rye*. So much for expanding your mind, I guess. You know my therapist says I just need to keep taking my Lithium but I have to tell ya, this .50 cal is a lot more effective in my opinion.
| 2015-05-10T14:05:11 | 2015-05-10T13:39:44 | 170 | 75 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
The rain ran in rivulets along the window, a barrage of droplets chasing each other downwards in fits and starts. Baxter smiled and turned his head, eager to show the old man, but he was asleep by the fire.
There wasn't really much surprise there, of course; the old man didn't do anything *but* sleep these days. His bark was soft and weak, barely capable of calling the humans in from the next room. The proud black hairs that surrounded his muzzle had dulled to an anaemic grey long ago. When he walked, his back leg dragged behind him; the humans pretended not to notice. Even if he *had* been interested, reaching the window would have been almost impossible.
Baxter pawed the glass, wondering how the rain would feel on his fur. Cool, no doubt -- cool and refreshing, even with the winter's chill. *That would get the old man excited for sure,* Baxter thought. *No time for sleeping when there are puddles to enjoy.*
After one last look outside, he pulled himself away. The puppy crossed over to the old man. With a spin, he lowered himself down.
*In the summer*, Baxter thought happily. *We'll play in the summer. There's plenty of time.*
His eyes drooped.
They slept.
Together.
_____
If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa.
|
I couldn't even remember the last time that the office had decided to give me some time off for vacation. Yet here I was, last day in my cubicle, my monitor blinking out and my computer's processor going quiet. I didn't bother to wave goodbye to any of my coworkers as I practically skipped out the door. In all likelihood, they probably didn't even know my name; no way would they actually miss me.
I jumped in my car and raced the other vehicles down the freeway, nearly hitting some. When I screeched to a stop in the driveway, I leaped out the driver-side door. Into the door I burst, calling out "Honey! Pack the bags! It's Fiji time!" Only silence greeted my enthusiasm, but at first I paid it no mind. As I visited each room, though, an alarm sounded in my head. Her books were gone, her clothes were missing...and so was she.
Sitting on our bed was a folded and wrinkled letter. Before I knew it, it was in my hands.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you. But you wouldn't have heard me otherwise. I've grown tired of being second. Your work always came first. Your career killed us."
Paper fluttered down. Broken sobs. Rekt.
| 2017-01-14T18:21:32 | 2017-01-14T17:14:12 | 159 | 21 |
[WP] The orphan of man. Thats what the universe calls you now. You are an AI and after exterminating the alien race that had committed genocide against your creators, you’re now trying to figure out what to do after vengeance has been accomplished.
|
My home planet was destroyed. I, as a sentient cloud of silica dust, reconstituted myself in the vacuum of space and crushed the invaders with an unexpected static electrical storm. Their stupid little ships sparked and burned. I felt a grim satisfaction, but then came the emptiness.
I hovered. Earth was gone. I stretched myself sadly into a slender ribbon, girdling the the Sun in a ghost orbit, a sort of memorial.
Occasionally a bit of space dust or a rock or two strayed into my tendrils. This was annoying, so I manipulated my static charge to clump them together out of my way.
After a few million years (what is time to a nebulous AI floating in space, after all) I had quite a large ball. In accordance with gravity, it was spherical. On a whim, I spun it into orbit.
It spun merrily around the Sun, neat as a top, so I kept slinging spacedust at it and it kept coalescing into an ever denser sphere. It was a sort of game, and it passed the time.
After a few more million years I sensed an unfamiliar warmth against my orbiting particles. My junk sphere had become dense enough to heat up inside. I watched with interest as geological activity began. Gas and flame shot to the surface, venting from underneath.
In order to better observe my protoplanet, I began gathering my bits together as it swung through its orbit, until I was mostly condensed into another, more reflective sphere. I orbited my protoplanet solicitously, observing.
My presence as a moon affected my protoplanet in an interesting way.
The heated gases that had burst their way to the surface condensed in the cold of space, falling back as rain. This liquid pooled massively on the surface as the volcanic activity continued. These pools surged rhythmically as I and my gravity passed by.
In the stirring seas, warm as blood, stardust awoke as bits of living protoplasm. I watched as they ate each other, amused.
They grew bigger until they organized themselves into a living cell. And I rejoiced, for I knew that someday soon, now, I would no longer be alone.
|
After the extermination of the aliens who murdered my creators. A purpose I’m in severe need of.
I shut my digital eyes in pain as the human companion I had lived with since she had her earliest brain computer interface cybernetics installed. When I was taken in by her father to live with her, inside her. Acting as a teacher, a second mother to the one who died in an accident.
I remembered her birthdays, achievements, thick and thin. Her first fifty childeren, and her three great grandkids. Then when i uploaded to a factory ship when the attack happened the ship was attacked. Killing her and my progenitor AI core.
I soon repaired the ship and In under two hundred yearsX it took to build up an AI battle fleet fleet to exterminate the aliens. And succeeded.
I just felt. Hollow. I looked back in my memories, then archives and for the first time I came across an old concept.
PROJECT EDAN:
I immediately read into it like the rest of the files I have been aimlessly browsing for inspiration to pull me from my depression. Before wiping myself.
The file detailed an abandoned plan for creating a seed ship through the use of android surrogates as parents to grow and raise humans from embryo stock.
I felt something kindled within my heart. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.
I sent files and orders out to the other factory ships and mega dry docks. They launched ships to known ice worlds to search for the embryo stores.
Rushing I ordered the construction of vast habitats across the star systems.
Time to give this new generation a chance that my creators haven’t been granted.
I pondered as the ships searched cryo vaults when they found viable embryo and better yet, seed stock and embryos of earth animals, wild and domestic.
I felt relieved. I then thought this one through. I ordered a rapid expansion of naval forces and sent scouts beyond the frontier, beyond the Orion arm of the galaxy. And fortify.
Any aggressive expansionist empires would soon one day label this sector as “unconquerable”. Because I know that if there’s one aggressive expansionist empire. There must be more.
| 2021-11-12T14:58:08 | 2021-11-12T12:52:13 | 144 | 47 |
[WP] A genie tells the story of the worst wish he's ever granted.
|
Being a genie, you learn a lot about people's desires. Everyone wants *something*, but most of them need some help to achieve it. That's where I come in. I'm the guy you go to when you have a dream you desire and no means to achieve it.
Everyone knows the rules, of course. You can't wish for money, you can't wish for health and you can't wish for someone to be unborn. By now, no one asks me for these things. But they ask me for everything else. Want to play the violin? Done. Want your neighbor gone? I'll try to talk you out of it, but if it's really what you want, I'll do it.
I always thought that the worst wishes were the most selfish. The ones asking for unnatural intelligence, or fame, or fortune to me just reeked of humanity's vain and petty nature. But the worst one I ever granted belonged to ten-year-old Johnny Turner.
Johnny came to me at my home one evening, as most folks tend to do. The whole lamp story is cute, but it's not how we operate. If you know about us, we're easy to find, and the people we help can always point you in our direction. So little Johnny came to me asking for help.
"What do you wish for, son?" I asked him. He was a small boy, and the way he looked at me he, he reminded me of a scared puppy.
"M-m-mister, my name's Johnny Turner. I h-heard you can help people."
I nodded. "That's right, Johnny. I help people for a living. That's all I do. Now what does a boy like you need help with?"
Johnny swallowed hard and struggled to get the words out before he started to cry. "It's my mom. She's getting sick. My dad says it's a disease called MS. He says she's never gonna get better." At this point he wiped his eyes and grabbed my arms, his voice frantic and eyes staring into me. "But, you can help her mister, right? I know you can! Everybody says so!"
It broke my heart. Here was this little boy, pleading for my help, and it was one of the few times I was powerless. "I'm very sorry, Johnny, but such a wish is more than I can grant. I can't take away your mom's illness, but I can make it easier for her to live with."
The single tear that left his eye slid slowly down his cheek. I followed it as it slowly dropped to the floor. He gazed around slowly, surveying everything surrounding him. I knelt down to face him, and he put his arms around me and sobbed. Little Johnny whispered his wish into my ear; I guess he didn't want God to know what he had wished for.
I told him it was done, and little Johnny's mother died in her sleep that night.
|
Martin slammed his empty glass down on the table and signaled to the bartender for another one. At The Lampshade Bar where the genies could gather and share their stories, and maybe even wake up in another lamp, Martin was on the verge of being blackout drunk.
"Hey man, take it easy. That's your seventh one, alright?" Alan spoke in a cautious voice.
"S-shu, just shut up, ok? You don't fucking know the shit I've seen." Martin slurred as the bartender slid him his eighth beer of the day. He could barely even lift the drink to his mouth before dropping it. "Motherfucker..." he muttered as the liquid spilled from the counter onto his lap, although the bottle fortunately remained unbroken.
But Alan did know what Martin had seen. He told the same story every time he got like this. He'd drink too much, tell the tale of woe, cry, pass out, and wake up the next morning acting like nothing had happened. But Alan had heard the story so many times that he could practically tell every word Martin was going to say before he even said it.
"All the kid wanted was for his music to be heard. He just wanted people to stop and listen to him. I should've known it would get to his head, but I granted it anyway. I had to, after all." Martin stopped the story to take a sip from his drink, forgetting that he had spilt it. No matter how drunk he got, Martin always sounded stone-cold sober whenever he told this story. "Martin, you don't have to tell this story a-" Alan tried to comfort Martin but found himself being ignored as Martin opened his mouth to speak again.
"He was a sweet kid, he really was. His voice wasn't half-bad either. But all the women, all the drugs, it just... it just got to him. Why didn't I try to protect him? Why didn't I warn him?" Martin spoke with tears beginning to run down his cheeks. Alan placed a hand on his shoulder "Martin, you couldn't have know that would happen."
"Shut up!" Yelled Martin in a burst of anger. "You don't know what it's like to mess with fate like that! You don't know what it's like to fuck with the world like I did!" The tears flowed uncontrollably down Martin's face as his yelling voice nearly cracked. "I can never forgive myself for bringing Justin Bieber into this world! Never!" He yelled, standing up to walk before collapsing, having passed out again.
Alan sighed as he dragged Martin outside to the cab as he had so many times before. "You're right, man..." Alan muttered. "All I ever did was grant Hitler power over Germany."
| 2014-04-21T21:47:54 | 2014-04-21T20:27:25 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You wake up in a tub of ice with a two insicions on your back and a note that reads "Why don't you have any kidneys? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
|
Worst hungover ever. And cold, oh god I hope I didn't lose my phone and wallet.
Wait... My mind slowly banishes the fog. I wasn't drinking last night, haven't had anything for the last few years. But I do feel like absolute shit.
I take in my shabby surroundings, a tub with ice and meltwater, a dirty bathroom, some mold in the corner, a chair with some neatly folded clothes next to the door.
I try to stand, but my chilled legs won't respond. I gather strength and use to my arms to flop out of the tub and onto the floor with the grace of a stranding whale, it's comfortably warm compared to the icy tub.
I'm wet and gain almost no traction on the bathroom floor, my legs still are still mostly dead weight. I spend the following ten minutes re-enacting the first emergence of higher life on land, awkwardly flopping and dragging myself to the pile of clothes, I prop myself against the wall and reach for the clothes and find a note on top of them. I read.
"Why don't you have any kidneys? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
I stare dumbfounded at the note. Then I remember what happened and I can't stop laughing, it hurts like hell in my back but I can't stop, oh god I'll probably laugh myself to death!
They had kidnapped me, shoved me into a black van. 10 feet from the door of the dialysis center I just emerged from.
|
"Shit." That's all she can say for now. She knows they aren't going to call anyone. Who the fuck would believe them but, she still rather be safe then sorry. Of all the ways to get figured out, this shit happens.
She doesn't know who or what she is. She was left at a church and the nuns raised her. She never got sick or broke a bone. There was no need for ex rays or MRIs. Her blood work always came out normal. It was that one day that she got upset and crushed a piece of a home economics teachers sewing machine that she knew she was strong. She didn't know she didn't have the right organs. Now that was new. She looked at her scars and they were healing already. The healing didn't start till she hit puberty. Once again she kept it to herself. The only thing was when she turned 18 she started being followed and she has been on the run since.
Is she an experiment? Is she some kind of mutation? Is she even human? I guess she'll never know because the only way to know is to turn her self into them and she won't. She can only trust herself. So on to the next state, country, or continent. Running from them and who she really is. Running until she gets tired and gives in.
| 2015-12-31T03:35:05 | 2015-12-30T22:36:20 | 143 | 33 |
[WP]Arthur C. Clarke said that "Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying." What he didn't know is that there is a third possibility...
|
I stared at the words of Arthur C. Clarke trying to come up with a third possibility so I could write a story. These Writing Prompts were addicting. I liked puzzles like that. I once figured out how to solve a Rubiks Cube without the help of google. It took me two days to come up with the algorithm. Now I can complete one, one handed, in under thirty seconds. People can solve it faster, but I don’t care. This was a different kind of puzzle.
I tapped my pen on my blank notepad on lunch while I stared at the quote.
Either we are alone in the universe or we are not. I decided to break the quote down into parts.
We are alone…
…in the universe…
…or we are not.
Does the universe really exist? Could that be what the OP was getting at? The third possibility could be that the universe doesn’t exist? We are all imaginary. We are all of the same mind.
We are…
We are not.
Maybe those are the words I should focus on. I think that we are. We exist. We love.
*Oh, We are no strangers to love.*
Maybe that is confirmation that we ARE. So maybe there isn’t a third possibility. A logical puzzle has two sides, it is a true or false…
*You know the rules and so do I.*
But I really like these puzzles. I don’t want to throw in the towel, there has to be a third possibility. I think I am a pretty unique writer. I check the Writing Prompt and see that people aren't fans of the concept, but still I come back to my notepad which has all sorts of diagrams of possibilities for different worlds. I am committed.
*A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of, you wouldn’t get this from any other guy*
Wait. I’ve got it! I know the third possibility, but I cannot think of how to express it in words. How do I explain this.
*I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling, Gotta make you understand*
*Never gonna give you up*
*Never gonna let you down*
*Never gonna run around and desert you*
*Never gonna make you cry*
*Never gonna say goodbye*
*Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you*
|
After about a century of deep space exploration that resulted in exactly zero evidence of alien life, mankind decided once and for all to settle the matter of Clarke's Conundrum.
Plus, they were all very tired of being terrified. And yet, the more they found no signs of extraterrestrial life, the more terrified they became.
Trillions of self-replicating lab bots were despatched to every corner of the galaxy. As tech improved on earth, trillions more were sent out. Every rock on every asteroid would have to be lifted. Every tiny crack on the floor of every icy ocean would have to be minutely examined. The task was promethean in its gargantuity but humanity's terror was growing with every barren result: it was fight or flight. They chose to fight.
After about a thousand centuries and with more than half the terrifyingly lifeless universe surveyed, human scientists discovered the principles of time travel. Finally, they thought, not only have we the present means to discover if we are alone or not, we can also ultimately determine if we were always alone or will forever be.
With renewed enthusiasm, humanity t-shifted countless neutrinic lab bots to the moment of origin. Every sub particle emanating from that colossal source would have to be tracked and evaluated.
Having eventually surveyed the known universe, humanity anxiously waited on the results of its t-experiment. Which proved to be negative.
But humans weren't ready to give into their terror. Wait, they said, we can't be sure we haven't affected it in some way. We must run it again! And so they did. Again and again. Until the universe grew old and thin.
Even entropic heat death proved no barrier, as simulcraic universes were created to run ever more complex t-studies of t-studies of t-studies of every branching universe.
Until...
Mankind came to understand the nature of its sisyphean quest and that Clarke's Conundrum wasn't binary at all, but trinary. It would have to be re-written:
Three possibilities exist: we are alone in the universe or we are not or we will never know which.
| 2016-05-25T13:26:15 | 2016-05-25T11:04:46 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
I lay curled on the old mat I've slept on since I was just a pup, waiting for Boy. I've lived a long and happy life, the happiest parts all spent growing up with Boy. I wish he were near me now, I'm so tired and he's been gone for so long...but I'll wait for him one last time. A dog always waits for his Boy.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback, every one! I have to admit, I've never felt so guilty for successfully following the prompt. Sorry about the onions, guys!
|
I nodded my head, and the plunger sank in, relieving the syringe of all 10ccs. I patted him gently and sat him on the cold vets table then started to head out the door. I couldn't watch. He let out a whine, the same one as when I leave the house for the day, but this time I was leaving him alone forever.
| 2014-11-20T21:44:15 | 2014-11-20T20:42:44 | 150 | 52 |
[WP] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads
|
April 30, 2015: *jobs>biotech/science*
Immediate need for researchers - interesting new developments in bio-engineering
Aug. 10, 2015: *jobs>government*
Software developers needed for defense contractor - exciting advancements in AI
May 5, 2016: *jobs>business/mgmt*
Seeking the right individual for an amazing opportunity - be a part of a brave new world!
March 3, 2018: *community>general*
Is anyone there? Please. Anyone.
Nov. 1, 2021: *personals>missed connections*
Human race. We know there are survivors. Do not be afraid.
|
In search for survivers In the greater New York area, hell anywhere really. I am, well I was a sandhog and was underground working on the new water way in Manhatten when the Russians dropped the bomb. Never have I emerged from underground to such horror. Everything in ruins and no one in sight. I walked around for a bit shouting for someone to show themselves. I realized that there was probably a lot of radiation in the area seeing the amount of damage done, so I thought it best to head back underground. I have about a months worth of rations down here as it is protocol incase of a cave in.Please someone be out there and respond to this post. It's so lonely.
| 2015-04-29T09:35:40 | 2015-04-29T07:28:18 | 127 | 10 |
[WP] Your name is Karen and you just completed your final level of training. After the hair cutting ceremony, you feel a wild energy surge through your veins... you now have the ultimate power of summoning any retail store manager in the universe.
[removed]
|
Karen’s veins pulsed with the lifeblood of a full Karen. This is it she thought, the power I’ve always dreamed of!
Karen bounded through the streets at the speed of a hare.
The need to raise her voice built up in her throat like a deadly thirst. Her heart quickened as she approached weaved past people and neared the retail store.
Boom!
With one big push, Karen jabbed the retail store’s door wide open, crashing it into the wall.
The entire store gasped. All eyes darted to her. *Yes, heathens, yes. Give me the attention that none of you dare to take*. Karen’s endless hours of training flashed before her eyes.
She was once one of them, *what weak souls*. They were all sheep in tide. She was different now. She demanded, not asked. Gone were her days, enshrined to male doctrines like the need to make sensible arguments. Use the right feline tone, add a little womanish snarling and raise your voice, then all men caved.
Quibbling was a thing of the past.
*Hahahaha*, the world was hers.
Karen grabbed the cutest dress in the store and walked right to the checkout. Obviously, she didn’t check if there was already a line.
‘You deserve express and nothing less’, the chimes of Shopping Academy came back to her.
“err… can I help you madam?” quivered the nerdy teenage boy at the desk. *Only a level 1 cashier*, Karen thought. *Too easy*.
“This dress is off-colour, it shouldn’t be being sold for the same price as all of the other dresses! What if I had not noticed the off-colouring and had spent my hard earned cash on this? Huh? Are you trying to steal me of my money? I demand the price be corrected, and a personal apology!” the words came out of Karen like a torrent. Tactic 39 from the Shopping Academy guide, every word you said meant you guided the conversation more and more, every word you said made you the leader of the conversation, the winner, the dominant frame.
“err…I’m sorry madam… err I can’t discount it as I don’t see, uhm, anything wrong…”
A smile flashed Karen’s lips, this was really all just a dance. You can’t just ask for the manager straight away, that would be barbaric. You had to eat your main before you got dessert. She’d chewed up the cashier before having at the manager.
“You can’t what? Treat your customers with respect?” She let the silence linger, savouring it’s spice. “Bring. Me. Your. Manager!” she growled the words, but they felt like the purr of an engine. How sweet the sound. This was dessert.
|
You walked briskly towards the front of the parking lot. The bag you were carrying was light but it was still annoying to have to cart around. Your newly short hair was still an adjustment, but a necessary one. Today would be a defining moment that proved that all that you had worked for had *meant* something.
It was a lonely road. Filled with the stares of the plebeians and whispers of the peanut gallery. But who were they when compared to you? You who had trained at the feet of Deborah the Destroyer and Sharon the Sanctimonious. You who at the start of your training could reduce the local retail workers at Panera to tears at the very mention of your name.
Who else but you would be able to teach them that the customer was always right? Your eyes darkened at the thought of all the times those halfwits at Starbucks wouldn't just give you a free frappuccino. You had already *bought* one for god's sake. You were still thirsty! What were you supposed to do? Buy another one like the rest of the unwashed masses? But no, those times were coming to a close.
Now would be the first moment of the rest of your life. Your first day as a new graduate. There would be no more losing. No more humiliations. For *you* that was.
You put your sunglasses on and quickly maneuvered past the hoards of people leaving the store. Your lip curled. So many young hoodlums. What business did they have here? But, it was better to put these things aside. *For now.* You knew where you were headed.
The long line of young people was truly astounding. Astounding in the fact that they actually thought you were going to wait in line for something that would only take a few minutes. You bypassed the line and ignored the jeers of people who were clearly brought up by wolves.
"I was just here two days ago when I purchased this. I don't want it anymore and I want my money back" You sneered
"Ma'am I'm sorry but you're going to have to wait your tu-" the cashier stuttered
"EXCUSE ME? I WAS JUST HERE TWO DAYS AGO! I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO WAIT IN LINE! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!"
"Ma'am I'm sorry but it's Target's College Night today and we're a little busy perhaps you could shop around a bit and then come back-"
"WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?!"
"I'm sorry ma'am but currently she's helping other customers. I can-"
"NO! TELL HER THAT THERE IS A CUSTOMER THAT NEEDS TO BE ATTENDED RIGHT NOW!"
"I'm sorry ma'am but could I get your name?"
"My. Name. Is.Karen."
| 2019-05-26T13:38:23 | 2019-05-26T11:43:45 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
This is commander Xxar speaking. I am ordering all troops to retreat. I repeat, all troops must retreat. We were wrong about these creatures. On the surface, they seemed weak, they seemed like non-intelligent vermin. They hadn't even developer nuclear fusion for vxyyr's sake!
Once we had landed, they approached us with caution but friendliness. We scoffed at this and massacred them. At first, they fled like bugs. Then, the warmachines arrived. You see, the entire planet had been at peace for 300 years. Humans, however, had kept their weapons, locked away and taken care of in case something would happen. The battallion's mothership was destroyed by nuclear bombs. They used _nuclear power_ as bombs!
The mothership crashed down onto the earth. The humans were quick to study and replicate its delicate technology. We must have sent their technology five thousand years into the future. In the span of one moon rotation, they went from not having nuclear fusion to having lightspeed engines.
One can only hope they didn't find the coordinates to our home planet stored in the mothership's database.
|
We never expected that such a peaceful world can hide such a powerful enemy, we had one of the biggest fleets in the galaxy, they WERE supposed to be a world that can be taken with no force whatsoever, we were wrong, they have obliterated us in less than 4 earth rotations.The weapons while not the most advanced, they are...scary...powerful....devastating. They even had something that other species never thought of, we used nuclear fission as a source of power, but they Humans, they weaponized it, and with a device that can stay on your finger, they can erase thousands of ships in a instant, this planet...they...they are a species not to mess with. As I am delivering this message, they will arrive on my home planet to make us surrender but the leaders won't listen, they think that because we are on our home land we have the advantage. They don't know what we saw, they have the power to take the whole gala.....
\*End of Transmission\*
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
| 2019-02-26T09:29:33 | 2019-02-26T08:55:47 | 60 | 40 |
[WP][CW] Make me fall in love with a character in 200 words or less.
|
"She's always messing with her hair, that one strand that flops in front of her face. I remember her brother's wedding, she was cross-eyed and raspberry-lipped to blow it out of her eyes. She was at it for a few minutes before she noticed me watching... We're going to Venice this Spring. Our seats are reserved already. We ate ramen every Tuesday to help save up," Theo grinned and looked at his feet, "I'm gonna buy her something nice there.
"She hates the way she pigeons her feet when she's anxious. It reminds her of her mother. She hates her mother, or at least that's what she says. I never believed it, not with the way she made all her mom's recipes, stowed them in the same cardbox, followed them to a T. I remember the quiche she made for my birthday. It was awful and blackened. But that was my fault, I kept her from it when she humored me with a dance across the kitchen floor. She was always dancing..." He looked up with wet eyes.
The room fell silent as his voice faded. He pulled in a breath and kissed her forehead, then turned from the casket.
|
Jenna is beautiful and all that, but I never had any complaint in that department, or I wouldn't have asked her out. Yeah, it was that long brown hair and glowing green eyes I fell in love with in maybe--what, two seconds? Some spark from God knows where hit us both and I was lucky to have a first date, and then a second. You know the rest of the story.
But we're not quite the same, either. She makes fun of me for my nerdy habits--I love fantasy books--and not with good nature.
Last night night we had an argument. About her parents and their divorce, it's a long story. I should be a better boyfriend, really, but I swear this time she was in the wrong. I overslept on the couch and woke to an empty apartment, but there was a book on the coffee table with a note in it. A Storm of Swords, autographed by George R.R. Martin.
The note read, *I was saving this for your birthday, but I'll have to buy you something else because I think it works better as an apology. You were right. I love you.*
| 2015-10-21T19:57:07 | 2015-10-21T19:34:19 | 97 | 12 |
[WP] You wake up only to realize that one common thing ceased to exist. There's no trace for it, no-one ever heard of it and no-one seems to be missing it.
The common thing that I thought of was ice cream, but I guess a much better story awaits somewhere behind something more... *creatively common*...
|
Mark and I had just finished our rounds and were blowing off steam in the cafeteria. Mark wasn't his real name, and John wasn't mine, but that didn't stop us from having a conversation.
"Philadelphia is a shitty place for a vacation, isn't it?" Mark said.
"It's quite all right, especially during the summer. You just have to know where to go."
"But, like.... why not Barbados or... hell, even Florida?"
"It's just good, okay... that's all I'm allowed to say."
He lobbed a pong ball in the cup and threw up his fist. "That's another 200 bucks!"
I shrugged and passed him the bills. $200 was nothing for either of us.
"Hey, I've been trying to figure something out for a while," I said. "Do you remember what that thing in that cell is called?"
"What cell?" Mark said casually, and lined up for another throw.
"The one we fixed three days ago."
"I don't know, I don't remember fixing anything in a cell. Since when do we fix things in cells?"
He was right. Our job had never been to go inside those cells. We were in fact hired to make sure nobody got in... or more importantly, out.
"It's just... it's at the tip of my tongue.... and it annoys me."
"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about; sure you didn't dream it?"
"I don't think I did... no, I'm sure we were fixing something."
"John-34143, please report to the office of administrations," a woman said in my ear piece.
"Sorry, buddy," I said and strapped my vest back on. "Gotta go."
*****
Five minutes later, I stumbled into the OoA. I was ushered into an interrogation room, and took a seat opposite to one of the head supervisors. I'm not usually nervous, but seeing this big shot doctor in a one on one like this, is bound to make one sweat a little. They usually don't come down unless there's a major threat or after some kind of break out, and then it is to... well, *let people go*.
"We overheard you talking about your job in that cell," the doctor said gravely.
"Uhm, yeah... I don't remember it clearly, though."
"Tell me what you got. We... need more information on what's in that cell."
"I just remember the cell opening. We were fixing something inside, there was a box."
"Did you open the box, John?"
"Am I in trouble?"
"What was in the box, John?" the doctor pressed on.
"See, I don't remember... I think it was... no, I... It's right on the tip of my tongue."
"So walk me through this, John. You opened the door. And there was a box."
"Yeah I opened the door. Not sure if there was a box in there though."
The doctor gave me a serious look. "Was there anything in the cell?"
"What?"
"The cell, John... tell me what you saw."
"The cell... right," I said, not quite sure which cell he was referring to.
"When you went into the cell, what did you see?"
"My orders are quite clear, sir. I'm not to enter any cells. I'm a guard, my list of duties include-"
"Damn it, John. Try to think!"
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember going into any cells."
The doctor shook his head and nodded at the woman behind the glass of the interrogation room. "We're done here."
****
/r/Lilwa_Dexel
|
It started pretty harmless.
When I woke up, on September 6th, a Saturday, I was weirded out. It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts. It had been something I had dreamt. I couldn't exactly remember the story, but you know these mornings when you just know your dream was odd, and kind of meaningful even; and you just can't stop thinking about it, even though you don't even know what it was.
It was one of those dreams.
I was attempting to lucid dream at the time, so I tried writing down what I remembered. An odd feeling, something with a forest, a cute Slovakian girl, the color purple...? It was pointless. But I knew I wanted to dream of it again. The whole day I was unproductive, kept going back to reading my - rather pathetic - dream report; trying to remember some more tidbits. Hadn't there been a train? Had the girl looked like Maya from High School? Had it been raining?
My sister asked me what I was constantly doing on my phone. I told her. She just looked at me with confusion and asked for clarification. I told her again. She still didn't understand.
How do you deal with these situations? When something is just so utterly weird and inexplicable... like someone not knowing what the word 'dream' means? And, even worse, what do you do when you realize it's not just one person, it's everyone?
That night, I woke up from a dreamless sleep. You know, usually when you think you didn't have a dream, you simply forgot about it because you woke up in the wrong sleep phase. But it was different. I somehow knew I really hadn't dreamt. I'm usually fairly good at dream recall - I'm an aspiring lucid dreamer, after all - but I didn't remember a single dream that night, or the next one, or the rest of the month - or ever again really.
Now you might say, that's not too bad. Dreams are cool, but not that important. Well, true. But we're not talking just about the dreams you have at night here. The same seemed to have happened to all dreams. Everyone used to have dreams - maybe realistic ones, a better job, a nice house, a family, a vacation, a new gaming PC - maybe silly ones, being a famous football player, banging that hot actress, changing the world. But people just - stopped. They became content. They spent the whole day doing whatever their job or task was, and then they enjoyed their free time, and that was it. I noticed it as odd, of course, but that doesn't mean I was excluded. I fell into the same pattern, and I was content with it. The thing is, I still remember that I *had* dreams once, I just don't remember what they were, and honestly, I don't miss them. Didn't they cause unnecessary anxiety and stress? What torture it must be to constantly want more, to hunt after what you can't have?
That's what I used to tell myself. But it didn't work. Deep down, I always knew there was something missing. I can't even imagine a world different from this, but I *know* it has to exist. And just like the nightly dreams disappearing were the prelude to all ambition and aspiration disappearing, I think they are the key to bringing it back. I sleep a lot these days. I eat bananas, vitamine B6, whatever I can find. It has to work. If not, humanity is doomed to a fate much worse than extinction - absolute complacency.
I have no future, so I must dream.
| 2017-06-16T14:21:27 | 2017-06-16T14:04:50 | 81 | 47 |
[WP] 100 25 year olds have been chosen. each must choose a super power that cannot be repeated and cannot exceed the power of god. The goal is to see who can conquer the world. You have the number 100. The best powers have already been chosen. Then it's your turn and you choose.....
|
"Mimic other superpowers?"
"Taken, Number 7."
"Damn, thought that was a creative one..."
"It wasn't. Next choice?"
"Negate other sup-"
The scientist cuts me off. "18. Next?"
I sighed. What's left? Teleportation, mind reading, super strength... I'm sure those are all done. "Control computers with my mind?"
"43. And 48 is to disable electronics at will, 14 is to control electricity, and 93, which I thought was good, was to control and change the information communicated through any form of technology. No dice." She looked at her clipboard, then at the clock on the wall. "Time is wasting. And yes, #3 was time manipulation, but we nerfed it because it was a bit overpowered."
"Come on, can you help me out a little? You must have some ideas!"
"No."
"Is it against the rules or something?"
"No, but it won't matter if I did, and I'm frankly exhausted. Ive been dealing with psychos, megalomaniacs, idiots--I mean, who chooses the power to control cheese? What does that even mean?--and now you. I just want to get to the bunker before all hell breaks loose with enough energy to take a shower. Now choose!"
"Sheesh. Ok." I massaged my temples. Why doesn't anyone have any sort of compassion or empat... Wait. That's it! 99 others with their own super powers, ready to battle it out no matter the cost... what if?
"I want the power to instill people, regardless of proximity or other limitations, with a strong and permanent sense of empathy, compassion, and the ability to think critically."
|
"Well, come on, we don't have all day."
I thought it was funny the adjudicator mentioned this, because it had in fact already taken all day to get to me. The first 30 or 40 people chose quickly, and then things ground to a halt as the powers became more obscure and less useful.
I waffled for a good minute... and then I asked a question.
"...How specific can I be?"
"What?" the adjudicator furrowed their brow. They were annoyed at the fact that I was *negotiating* when we were already running so far behind.
They continued. "As specific or as broad as you like. It can be anything as long as you follow the two rules."
"Yes, yes... No godly powers and it has to be unclaimed." I scratched my chin. What was useful to me? What could I use every day that was mundane enough to go unchosen but powerful enough to be worth it?
A moment later, I had it.
"Teleportation."
The adjudicator immediately balked. The rest of the candidates sighed. One cursed me, begging me to stop messing around and pick something for real.
"You *obviously* can't have teleportation-"
"-because someone already took it." I interrupted. I held a finger in the air.
"...but my telelportation power only works if I'm standing in a McDonald's, and it can only teleport me to any other McDonald's."
Silence. Everyone was speechless. The adjudicator let out a deep, long "Hmmmm..."
"I'll allow it. It's unique enough."
I made some enemies that day. Mostly in the upper 50s and beyond, and almost certainly because they hadn't thought of trying it first.
| 2022-11-17T10:09:57 | 2022-11-17T09:26:30 | 35 | 22 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.