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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
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[WP] 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.
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"Hold my beer."
I moaned silently to myself as the icy fear climbed my spine. It was always like this:
The ship would get into trouble, usually because of the Captain.
The crew would try all kinds of solutions that inevitably failed, usually because of the Captain.
We'd be up against the wall, no possible way out, no possible hope... usually because of the Captain.
And then we'd hear those words, from the Captain: "Hold my beer."
We were supposed to have been delivering a shipment of Anduvian wool to the Monks of Patience. Now the Monks were all trapped at the event horizon of a black hole, the wool had gotten lost somewhere along the way and our ship was spiraling out of control through an asteroid field with warships of three different species trying to get a weapons lock on our engines.
I reached out and took the sweating can from the Captain.
"I really need a new job." I thought for the thousandth time. But the money was good, and somehow when it was all over we were still here and everyone else, well... wasn't.
"Watch this!" the Captain said; I closed my eyes and shuddered. A Human. I had sign on with a Human.
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"We are here to conquer your planet please surrender without a fight!" exclaimed one of the aliens.
"Screw you this is Earth!" angrily yelled out by a redneck
The alien looks around in utter disbelief, within the second he fearfully asked, "Is this the place with humans?"
As a child walks up to the alien to ask him a question the alien quickly kicked away falling back onto his back. He was in the worst place a extra terrestrial being could be on Earth home of the Humans.
The alien in other distraught exclaims, "Oh-OHHHH GOD NO LORD OF NEBULA 6Ω NO PLEASE HELP ME!"
As the child walks up to touch him he realizes something in the kids hand its soft cuddly, and has rounded ears is this the dreaded weapon the alien will be killed with?
The kid looks up to the alien and asks in a chilled voice, "do you wanna play with mister fluffinkens?"
As the kid draws his weapon, and tries to hand it to the alien the alien screams on the top of his lungs, grabs his lunar pistol and blasts his own brains everywhere.
It turns out humans aren't actually the crazy ones, aliens just don't understand kids just like everyone else.
| 2017-03-05T23:59:04 | 2017-03-05T23:39:35 | 125 | 33 |
[WP] You have the voice of an angel. Literally, you are half-angel, and your singing is the most beautiful sound people have heard. But demons find your singing painful, and try anything they can to keep you silent.
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I hummed to myself, happily looking over the vegetables on display. My joy infected the tune, spreading to those around me. I noticed people smiling wider from the corner of my eye, making a feedback loop of joy. Whilst singing was the most potent, any music created by my voice had effects on those who listened.
A grunt of discomfort drew my attention. I glanced at a woman in gym clothing, giving me an evil side eye. I rolled my eyes, knowing what was going to come.
"Could you please not."
She spoke with an annoyed tone. I looked at her and smiled, even as others looked at her disapprovingly.
"I'm sorry, its subconscious."
Her mouth drew into a thin line.
"Whatever. Just stop it."
I gave a smile again, letting the people around me show the annoyance I felt. Demons always tried to silence me. I had long since learned to stop caring about them. Humans liked what I did, and so I concentrated on them.
\-----
As I unloaded the car, I heard footsteps approaching me. I glanced up, recognising the woman from the store.
"Can I help you?"
Her face was set in a cruel expression. Two others flanked behind her, a man in a high-vis jacket and another woman in a business suit. Their eyes flashed, promising pain and suffering.
"Oh, I don't think so."
Her voice held a taunting edge. My blood ran cold, and I backed away.
"Please, I don't want any trouble."
"Well, its a shame then, your voice brings you trouble."
I took in a breath, as they stalked towards me. I had to put all my hope in my voice.
"*Please Stop!*"
It wasn't so much a song than random words being sung. But it's effects were still noticeable. The three of them clutched their ears, hunching over in pain. I took the opportunity to run, singing as I did so as loud as I could.
"*Please Help Me! They Want To Hurt Me!*"
I could see people look around, attracted by my voice. They saw the three demons chasing me, and felt the fear in my voice. Faces grew hard, as a select few moved to intercept them. Their voices raised into shouts, as I ran away.
They had never turned violent before. The Treaty had seen to that. This shift in attitude was terrifying. I would have to speak with Dad about it. He was tuned in to the Celestial Net, and would have a better idea of what was happening. But for now, I had to get safe
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The bar was crowded tonight. Mike and Gabe practically dragged me down here in an effort to get me to interact with the outside world again, away from the Internet and electronic devices. So, here I am, in this noisy, hectic club, surrounded by complete strangers while my friends get drunk on beer, and vodka and what have you. I wasn’t drinking, however, having never liked alcohol in the first place. And somehow, despite being in the center of a room full of people, I was all alone. I was shaken from my thoughts by Mike and Gabe, heading toward me with smiles on their faces. Oh no, whatever you guys are planning, I want no part in it.
“Hey, Tyler, tonight’s karaoke night! Wanna sing with us?” Mike yelled, trying to be heard over the buzz of the crowd.
“Nah, you guys go ahead.” I mumbled.
“You have a great singing voice! We can’t do this without you!” Gabe shouted.
Reluctantly, I muttered agreement and my friends cheered. I followed them to the stage as the song began.
“Let’s welcome Mike, Tyler and Gabe to the stage, everyone!” announced the host cheerily.
I could really use some of his enthusiasm right now. Mike and Gabe bopped to the beat beside me, as I awkwardly tried to do the same.
“Sun is shining in the sky. There ain’t a cloud in sight!”
“It stopped raining everybody’s in the play!”
“And don’t you know, it’s a beautiful new day, hey hey!”
As we sang the song together, I started to feel happier and more confident, like Mr Blue Sky himself was shining down on me.
The audience stared in awe, and I could swear everything looked brighter. Probably just a trick of the light. Shrugging it off, I kept singing, feeling light as a feather all the while. In no time at all, it was over, and the applause was deafening. In the back of my mind, I registered that a few leather-jacket clad were glaring daggers at me, but no time for that now.
In a much better mood, we got off the stage and sat back down. Still, something felt… off. I excused myself and left for the restroom and looking into the mirror, I gasped. Hovering right above my head, was a ring of golden light. Was that a halo?
| 2022-07-02T09:04:52 | 2022-07-02T08:41:26 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time.
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We were all children once, stumbling in the dark. But our parents would hear our cries and pick us up. And they would pull us into their divine embraces, allowing their warmth to flow into the heart of us.
Here we are, one-hundred and forty five brave adventurers, who find ourselves at the last event worth knowing. A lifetime ago we began as wanderers, ready to set sail from the shore of the Cosmic ocean.
The final hour is not met by joy or celebration but by a solemn calm. Occupants lie together at the centre of the observation orb, looking out at the body of the Omega, and silently join hands in respectful unison. For if there is one thing that we have learned through our advance into the great expanse of space and time, it is that we are all privately longing to return once more to what we felt at the Beginning, whether fanciful dream or distant memory, it was a feeling that we all once shared. A feeling that unites us.
Once more we retreat into the warm embrace. In the final moments we will be together, for small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.
|
They all stood on the observation deck and watched. Just watched. *So this is how it feels.. No grand speech. No words of wisdom. Just.. existing.. To be here.. Acceptance and a small pain in my throat and chest.*
"So this is it.." I mumbled loud enough so the nearest could hear. "We made it. We didn't die. Didn't go extinct as so many other races."
*This is it. The end of all things, and even this we are here to witness. The final end will be a part of our history. Our everlasting journey*
We took up our pills as the last flickering light from the star reached us. We had chosen to leave this world along with it. The symbol of knowledge, enlightenment, hope, love and everything that has driven us and guided us through struggles. And we will go with it..
I looked at my colleague and one of my closest friends. "We'll see each other on the other side" I said while tears ran down my chin. "No we wo..." He couldn't finish. And then darkness. And nothing more.
| 2015-01-17T08:49:08 | 2015-01-17T07:58:22 | 166 | 62 |
[WP]The reason why dragons kidnap princess so often is because, as far as their concerned, humans of royal blood are rare exotic pets. A status symbol, to show that their horde is greater than that of other dragons.
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When Kara awake in the morning, it was to the comforting smell of roasted meat. She stretched with a yawn, and heard a rumbly laugh from the entrance to her space. She glanced over, and saw Greyscale standing just outside the entrance to her little room in the cave.
"Aww. Big yawn." He cooed at her. "You still sleepy, kay-kay? Poor baby. Your breakfast is ready on the table."
He withdrew, and Kara heard his claws click across the stone and into the dining area.
Kara carefully climbed out of her soft bed, piled with pillows and lush with blankets, and winced as her bare feet touched the cold stone. 'Maybe I should complain to Greyscale.' She thought idly. 'He could get some carpet or something.'
She paded over to her wardrobe, and sifted through her fancy clothes to find her favorite outfit. and put it on. She brushed her hair, and smiled at herself in her mirror, before strutting out of her room.
"Good morning, sweetie! Look how cute you are in your pretty dress!" Greyscale learned down towards her and gently patted her on the head, before turning back to his book.
Kara sat in her chair at the table, and tucked into the meal Greyscale had made for her. Fresh quail eggs and roasted venison, and orange juice, made with oranges plucked from the tree just outside.
After she finished eating, she walked over to Greyscale and whined, "Greyscaaaale?"
The dragon looked up from his book and cooed, "You all done with breakfast? Was it yummy?"
"Greyscale, the floor is cooold." She complained.
He picked her up carefully and said, "That won't do at all! I can't let my poor little princess getting cold! Let's go visit Uncle Yellowclaw, he'll fix our problem, don't you worry! And you can see your little friend Jameson!" He gently cradled her in his hands, and she settled in comfortably for the flight.
He walked, a little unsteadily, to the cave mouth, spread his wings, and launched into the air. He was a careful flyer, much better than the dragon who had caught her originally, but honestly, she'd forgiven and moved on. This lifestyle was, suprisingly, much nicer than the one she'd had back in the castle.
In the castle, she'd been expected to learn things, like economics and the rights of the citizens. They had none, but that's beside the point. There had even been a rumor going around that she would be, heavens forbid, married off to solidify an alliance.
Here, she was allowed to be who she wanted, however she wanted. As long as she, occasionally, showed Greyscale affection, ate the food he gave her, and put up with him talking to her like she was a toddler, she was doted on hand and foot. Well, claw and foot. As an added plus, sometimes, Greyscale would take her flying. She loved watching the ground whip by miles below. Feeling the wind rake cold fingers through her hair. It was magical.
I can't think of anything else to do with this story, so that's all I got. Hope you liked it!
|
Her screams were maddening! Drono had heard about the impressive humans his other kin were keeping as part of the horde, so he decided he would have at least one. He did not hear of how much trouble they would be.
He lived in a nice big mountain over looking the human town for quite some time now. Most days he looked at all his pretty things and flew the open skies with the humans being none the wiser.
It was one such flight, about a month ago, that he found his pretty human. It was such an impulsive theft, he felt like a wyrmling again. Even though that was only 100 years ago, he felt more refined as a young adult dragon. Refined enough to have pretty things at least.
There she was, standing in a field of flowers. Her alabaster skin reflected the suns rays. Her long flowing brunette hair glided through the wind. It was enough to peak his interest. He swooped down! Her human protectors tried to reach her in time, but it was too late. He had his pretty human and he was gone.
That was two months ago. Since then things had not been so pleasant. Four times warriors came to his home trying to free her. They were annoying but a tasty treat. He was letting her roam free until she kept trying to escape. So he fashioned a room out of the stone. She kept calling it a cell, whatever that is. And just yesterday, she picked up one of his pretty coins and hit him in the eye with it.
He had hoped this would settle down, but it didn't. The only thing that did was the human protectors trying to save her. He hadn't eaten a human in about a month. Just then, as he was contemplating roast human, he heard a loud commotion from his cave entrance.
Light could be seen moving toward his cavern. More humans. Just in time for dinner. He crawled to the ceiling and waited for them to enter. What came next Drono did not expect.
It appeared as if the whole town had armored up and come to rescue this one human. She was pretty, but that pretty? He never thought. Humans poured in like ants. Hundreds of them. One of them amongst shouted something Drono quite couldn't hear. So he moved to a better position and said in his best common tounge.
"Come again?" His few words boomed through the cavern and caused the humans to shrivel in fear. The one who spoke stood up, albeit shakily, and repeated
"We demand you had over our priestess now, or you will meet your end."
My end Drono thought, is she pretty enough to sacrafice all my prettys? He clacked a claw against his chin and after a few moments he said, "Fine, take her back and leave me. She's been more trouble than she's worth."
The humans quickly gathered their priestess and Drono followed them out of the cave to make sure every human left. As he watched them leave he started to miss his pretty human. Was she worth it though? A smirk filled Drono's scaled lips and he said to himself, "but she is really pretty?" And flapped his wings to take back to the sky.
| 2020-05-29T15:29:49 | 2020-05-29T14:27:15 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] A time traveller from the 1930's travels to modern day in his time machine and wonders why his invention never caught on.
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*Still no flying cars,* the gentleman scribbles in a leatherbound notebook, seemingly oblivious to how much of a spectacle he is in the middle of the road in the middle of Times square. The machine behind him, something akin to a hobbyhorse with far too many gears and pipes, sputters and coughs, and he uses the notebook to fan the smoke away from his contraption.
Satisfied, he pats down his coat, and addresses the crowd that has formed around him: “Greetings! I do hope you understand my dialect. If my calculations are correct, this is the distant future.” There is a murmur in the crowd, “Could somebody be so kind as to tell me what is today’s date.”
The crowd remains too shocked to respond; even the taxi driver that veered into a hot dog stand to avoid hitting the metal thing that suddenly appeared in a puff of smoke remained silent. A businessman stepped forward, “It is October 9th, two thousand and fourteen, at about,” he glances at his watch, “Eleven in the morning.”
The gentleman pauses for a moment, counts silently on his fingers, and then yells, “Eureka! I did it! I am the world’s first time traveler!” He tosses his notebook haphazardly towards the time machine, grabbing the business man by the wrists and spinning him around like a dame, chanting “I did it! I did it! I did it!” His hat flies off his head, which a elderly man places upside down on the ground in front of him, and a small collection of money begins to form for this dazzling street performance.
The gentleman stops abruptly, leaving the businessman to spin once or twice before regaining composure. “Tell me!” The gentleman yells, “Is my name forever endowed in history? Am I the father of time travel?”
“There’s no such thing!” The businessman yells. Two police cruisers have arrived on the scene and begin parting the crowd.
“What?” The gentleman asks.
“There is no such thing as time travel!” The businessman responds vigilantly.
“But, look here, this is the first time travelling machine, its maiden voyage. As soon as I return, time travel will be a common occurrence, like the lightbulb or the tellie-- What’s this? Unhand me you brutes!”
Two tall men, wearing black suits and dark shades, grab the man by the arms, and yank him into a police cruiser that has driven through the parting of the crowd. In the moments that follow, police, firemen, and more tall men in dark suits arrive on the scene, and a hazmat team stores the machine on an unmarked van. The News reports a car crash with no injuries on 8th street near Times Square.
A small child picks up a leatherbound notebook, before being ushered away by the police.
|
No one ever took me for a crumb except my own mother. She called me Sheldon and then spent my childhood telling me it was a name for losers. By the time I was 12 I didn't care no more. She spent her days swilling rot-gut, slumped over a stool or looking for a clam-bake. She was a real curve.
Me? I was determined not to be an egg or grifter, ending up in the big house, sitting on the hotsquat like my old man. I decided my life would be eggs in coffee all the way and so I put my mind to work. Great thing a mind, you push on one end and it pushes ideas out the other.
I was a smart kid, no joe and whatever my mother though I was no okie. I found me a job, working for the smartest guys around, deciding that to be the best I needed to work with the best. At fourteen I was sweeping the floors at the General Electrics Research plant and at 23 I was running the joint. If I'd had more schooling i'd have got there faster.
I was sitting around with Bobby and Jonny K jawing about physics one day. It was a hobby of mine to see if I could pull apart the papers of boys like Einstein and Millikan and I had all the toys I needed in the lab.
What we ended up with though, was a brodie but the best one of my career. We'd built a cabinet and filled it was a super fluid and then shot it through with as much gamma radiations as we could manage. Well I tell you, when we saw what we'd done we blew our wigs - we'd created a portal of some kind.
Now Bobby and Jonny they began to jaw about this - they were bumping gums and wasting time. Not me, see, I wanted to get a move on and find out if this was my ticket or my Chicago overcoat so I jump in the cabinet and give them the old dangle.
Should have seen their faces as it all faded away. That's when I woke up here and started looking around to see what was what and the dames got all worried in that shop at me packing heat and called you coppers. Now if you fine gents will let me go I need to see if I can't pull together a return trip to let folk know what I've seen here.
*****
"He's been like that for hours Sarge, just keeps telling the same story over and over and honestly I have no idea about half of what he's saying."
The burly Sargent looked through the one way mirror at the small animated man in the interview room. "Okay, call social services and get them to send over someone for a Psyc evaluation. Just what we need, another nutter."
| 2014-10-09T08:17:56 | 2014-10-09T07:44:48 | 357 | 73 |
[WP] Leaving the dying, infested world behind, I teleported to a time before the apocolypse happened. Happy to be in a zombie free world, I felt a pang of pain on my shoulder. I saw that the scratch I had gotten from a zombie was now red and infected. I now realized I was patient zero.
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The goal was relatively simple. I was to find Patient Zero and put a bullet through his skull. We'd narrowed down his place of origin to the city I now stood in.
It was only after I'd stumbled out of the gadget that I notice the scratch has progressed to a necrotic black. I realise I only have hours before the infection progresses to the cytopathic phase, and then I'd be gone.
And I deny it at first. I scrape away at the flesh, pushing through the pain, hoping to excise the infected tissue. Yet as the disease progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that my efforts are in vain. I can feel the parasite creeping in. My thoughts become increasingly sluggish; my skin turns from pale to a diseased grey; and, above all, the insatiable craving for meat.
There's only one possibility - that I'm to become the man I sought to kill. It can't be, but by some cruel twist of fate, it is. But if that's how it's going to be, I've still got a little commitment to fulfill.
As I feel the world slipping from me, I lift up my gun, and, in those last moments of lucidity, I complete my mission.
|
For a moment, I didn't know what to think. I could only watch as the scratch reddened and began to spread black tendrils down my body. I had 15 minutes at most.
In my mind's eye, I replayed my entire life. My adoption to abusive parents, the bullies in school, the numerous times I was picked on until I began to work out. The irony struck me as I realized the hours of refining my body had prepared me to survive in this zombie infested plaugueland for so long...only to be given a chance to start all over in a time machine.
I don't know if it was the growing sickness inside me or a perverse sense of justice for my childhood pain, but a plan began to take shape.
I would use the time machine to create a bigger zombie apocalypse as revenge for my painful childhood. As I scanned the control panel to set the date, I noticed a button that said "pan-dimensional travel"
I calculated I had about ten minutes to live, smiled, and began to enter different space/time coordinates.
| 2020-11-01T23:17:33 | 2020-11-01T20:24:23 | 44 | 24 |
[WP] It was then Harry Potter realized the last 7 years in Hogwarts was actually a mental institute. The man he thought to be Dumbledore was just an elderly caretaker. Harry, looking at an old broken twig he once believed was a wand, started to remember what really happened during those years.
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"This... is the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asks, wide eyed as he stepped inside the gloomy room. A chair lay in the center of the room, next to a table full of strange machinery. The wires leading out of the machines were tied together to resemble a thick strand of rope. The doctor points the thick strand out to Harry. "This is what you thought was the Basilisk."
"These beautiful black orbs in front of the chair," the doctor continues, "Are the newest in electroconvulsive therapy. Without causing the physical trauma of direct electrical impulses, it only triggers certain neurons in the brain that we can specifically target. They caused you to constantly lose all physical mobility because of which you refused to look at them. In your mind these were the eyes of the Basilisk."
Harry staggered backward, his head spinning with the sheer magnitude of the reality shaking his foundation. "What about my parents? Are they alive then?"
"Harry..." the doctor says, sympathetically. "I know all this is difficult to take in, but you're a wonderful human being. Your parents never understood what was wrong with you. They blamed you for being born the way you were, what they described as "lacking any semblance of wit or intelligence", and left you in our care. When they tried explaining to you that they were leaving for good, it just wouldn't get through to you. After they deserted you here, you conjured up an intricate story where they died protecting you. Because that's how your mind works. It can't handle any more trauma. It is stretched to its absolute limits."
Harry almost fell to his knees. He fought back the tears and the feeling of defeat creeping into his heart. His parents were never around anyway. There was a more important question in his mind. But could he conjure enough strength to ask?
"Ron... Hermione.." Harry somehow managed to sputter out.
"Harry, your parents left you because they blamed you for not being normal, for lacking simple intelligence. A part of you understood their betrayal, but the rest of you refused to acknowledge that reality. In your world, your two best friends are those that embody those very qualities. Loyalty and intelligence. Ron and Hermione."
Harry was weeping now, like a child that had tasted grief for the very first time. Everything was a lie. All of it. Everyone was a figment of his crippled imagination; how was he supposed to live in the real world if the one he spent most of his life in never existed? In the midst of all the crying, Harry felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder.
"You're wondering what is true and what isn't, I know. It is difficult to be diseased, and somehow, harder when you're cured. Suddenly the world is nothing like you have known it. But Harry, isn't recovery a form of magic? For most of your life, your parents locked you in a closet under the stairs, refusing to tell the world about you because they were embarrassed of your predicament. For seven years, you held a broken twig in your hand, ran into walls over and over convinced that there was something magical on the other side. You mumbled constantly about fulfilling some prophecy and about beating some Dark Lord and surviving to tell the tale. And here you are. Your world is still full of magic. Like we heard you say out loud one night- you are a wizard, Harry. And despite all the unfortunate losses, setbacks and misforunes you have endured, you made it. To us, those who have constantly witnessed broken beings wither away, of seeing sanity die a slow death between these walls, you will always be The Boy Who Lived."
r/whiteshadowthebook
Edit: Thank you for the Platinum, Gold and Silver, kind strangers :) Also a big hug to everyone else for leaving such beautiful comments and for all the love, thank you so much again!
|
As Harry continued to grip his old "wand", he fell back in his twin bed staring at the blank white ceiling.
"Have--have I been here the entire time? Why am I just now realizing where I am? What changed?" He looked over at an old nightstand next to him. There he saw a cup with two white pills inside and a full cup of water.
"This--medication must be part of it," he said as he gripped the small paper cup. He crumpled it in his hand and shoved it under his moldy mattress.
"I must know the truth." He jumped up, and immediately collapsed on his knees onto the broken floorboards. He looked down and saw his right ankle was chained to the metal frame of his bed.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE!?!" A voice boomed from behind the windowed metal door on the other side of the room. Harry panicked and pulled himself back onto the bed.
"ARE YOU MAKING TROUBLE AGAIN HARRY!?!" A large man with hair down to his shoulders barged in carrying extra restraints in one hand and a capped syringe in the other.
"H--HAGRID! It's me Harry! How did we get here? Is this a spell? Another one of Voldemort's tricks?" Harry was sitting straight up now with a hopeful smile.
"Voldy More again is it? Harry, when are you gonna let that go!?! There was no Voldy guy. It was Glen, Harry."
"Glen?" Harry laid back down, more confused than ever. "Who is Glen?"
"Glen was a cancer patient that we were housing here. He passed away 2 week ago. You two were close towards the end. Ever since then, you've started to refuse our medicine. Please Harry, I don't want to keep doing this to you. Just take your pills." The large man was standing right over Harry now. You can see the concerned look on his face.
"I already took the pills, Hagrid. Thanks," Harry tried his best to look comfortable and natural but the caretaker easily saw through his guise.
"Harry, the name is not Hagrid. I've told you dozens of times, my name is Matthew. Where did you hide the pills this time? Under your mattress again?" He started to lift the mattress causing Harry to roll off the other side back onto the wood floor. Matthew found the crumpled paper cup and unraveled it.
"Harry, this is your last chance, take the pills or I will make you." As Matthew was handing Harry the pills, Harry noticed that if he could lift the bed frame, he could slip the chain from underneath and make a run for it out the open door. Matthew saw Harry glancing at the chain and then the door. Without hesitation, Matthew picked Harry up by his bicep, threw him on the bed.
Harry fought. He knew the pills or whatever was in that needle would make him forget again. This was a fight for his life. He kicked and punched. "HAGRID! NO! STOP IT! IT'S ME!"
That's when he felt it, a tiny pressure searing through his neck. He got him with the syringe. As everything started to turn black, he looked Matthew right in the eyes. "Why? Why are you guys keeping me here?"
"Harry, your mother and father---"
Harry opened his eyes again to readjust to the sunlight. He was standing in an empty Quidditch field back at Hogwarts. He immediately went to touch his neck, nothing was there. He looked at his right leg, no chain. He took a deep breath, gripped his wand, and started trekking back to the castle.
**This was my first post, so be easy on me.**
| 2019-04-09T08:59:59 | 2019-04-09T07:49:53 | 4,299 | 339 |
[WP] You have the power to heal mental illnesses. To do so, you enter the minds of others, where you and the illness fight in subconscious hand-to-hand combat. You've seen all the ugly faces of the major illnesses, and beaten them all, but today you encounter one you've never seen before.
|
I've entered the minds of countless men and women. I've fought the multiple demons of Schizophrenia, each of them whispered evil into my ear. I've battled depression. The fight that lasted for what felt like days. Exhaustion ate at my spirit. Fatigue plagued my body. I put that demon into submission with a smile. It took me weeks to recover. I've quarreled with anxiety. It's movements were near impossible to track. Sporadic and spasmodic it flailed, wailed, and writhed. I put it down with quick side steps, and well-placed blows. Its unpredictability became its biggest weakness.
But this demon in front of me, I have never fought before. I've been doing this for years, and thought I had seen all there was to see.
I was wrong.
This demon's fight style was slow to start with. Its withered and pathetic body was easily countered. But that quickly changed. It produced a small syringe, and injected itself. The demon shrieked as bile and saliva expelled itself from its mouth. The scream pierced my ears and sent a quick and sharp pain to my brain. It wasted no time capitalizing on my distracted stance and sent an uppercut right into my jaw before I could even react. The sheer force launched me upwards and before I hit the ground, it catapulted it's foot into my chest sending me backward. I felt ribs crack on that one. I brought myself to my knees, and as my gaze turned upwards the demon flung its knee directly into my face. It caught me off guard early, and I paid dearly for it. I forced myself to my feet quickly, and found the demon already rushing towards me with ungodly speed. I planted my feet, and tried to time it right. It pounced at me and I shifted my weight just in time to send it off balance. I sent my foot right into the middle of its spine. The demon flew forward, but turned around swiftly. This fight continued for hours. We both traded blows, but fatigue took its toll on both of us. But the demon was slowing at an accelerated rate. More and more of my hits landed, and its missed. The demon swung at me for a final time. I dodged, and got behind it. I kicked the back of its knee, and grabbed its head. It struggled frivolously, clawing and grasping. It knew it was over. I mustered every ounce of strength left within me and broke the demon's neck. It's head swiveled grotesquely and the sound of bone snapping greeted my ears like an old friend.
I gasped as I woke up in a cold sweat.
Alone.
This time the only one I was saving was myself.
I went into the other room, and destroyed the rest of my stash.
***
Thank you all, for reading. It means a lot. /r/batmans_left_buttock
|
We had just finished the breathing techniques that allowed to relaxed when I felt the psychic pull into her subconscious. Her mind looked like a serene Rocky Mountain Lake, like one Bob Ross would have painted. She had mentioned that watching his shows gave her some peace, so it would make sense that this is what her mind would choose to go to.
The place smelled odd. Something that most people forget is the power of smell to make us remember things. This particular smell though...made me think of alcohol and sweaty gym shoes. That didn't seem to fit with the painted mind setting, but I just chalked it up to repressed memories as those tend to come out in strange ways. I wandered out to the peer and saw that the lake was brushed over with a light fog. A mental block. This was either Alzheimer or a concussion. The way to get through this kind of block was to get something from the either side to break it. Not entirely sure why.
I thought of something that could lure something out and a fishing rod appeared in my hand. It already had a fish on the hook. I got comfortable and cast the line. Unfortunately now all I could do was wait til something broke through the wall or something else made itself known to me. Strangely I didn't have to wait long.
There was a loud pop, like a bathtub plug being lifted, and the fog grew to where it covered my head. Well, this is gonna be a tough fight if this much fog was released. But then I heard a strange British accent.
"What are you doing in my waters?"
The fog started to clear. I saw a strange scaly man-fish sitting next to me on the peer. It wore a pink tu-tu and a silver jacket. It's hair was seaweed and it had a black algae mustache.
"What are you?"
"I'm Old Gregg!" it shouted.
"I was searching for something on the other side of the lake." I had never seen anything like this before. It didn't seem too violent, so it probably wasn't the disease I was looking for. But It might know where the disaese might be.
"I know you were. The hook is stuck in my head."
"So it is...Can I ask--"
"What do you think of me?"
I was taken aback. I had dealt with narcissism before, but it never acted this fast.
"I don't think much of you right now."
"Do you love me?"
There is was.
"Never"
The creature stood and lifted the tu-tu. Brilliant light showed, nearly blinding me.
"I'm OLD GREGG!!!!"
I punched directly into the light and felt my fist hit squishy flesh. The creature vanished in a puff of mist and all was clear.
The mind had become a completed painting and there was life. The smell changed as well. Now it smelled like cheap air freshener and bacon. Definitely a healthy mind now.
| 2017-04-24T22:39:15 | 2017-04-24T22:29:24 | 2,729 | 28 |
[WP] The rapture has come, the faithful are taken to heaven and the nonbelievers and sinners are left behind on Earth for their inevitable self-destruction. However, God's plan backfires and the world seems to be much better off as a result.
Obviously, a parody of the "Left Behind" series of awful evangelical Christian novels and movies...
|
"I understand the whole 'grass being greener on the other side' concept and all that, but don't you think it's a little worrying that the world has significantly improved since you brought us all up her" Moe exclaimed to God. "Don't be ridiculous! I've watched humanity since the beginning of time, they'll mess it up sooner or later, they always do."
God, observing the apparent dissatisfaction on Moe's face guided him across the hall to the peering stand to further prove his theory.
"You see Moe, right down there, 'The western world' as you refer to it. They are the biggest sinners of them all. No matter how much I tell them to 'follow my lead' or 'Do as I do' they always end up doing the complete opposite and messing things up. Look! There they go building a wall right on the edge of Europe!"
Continuing to gaze from the stand as years passed for the hundreds of mortals below contributing to the project, Moe began to notice a fault in God's prediction. Interrupting the brief silence he announced "I do believe they're building some sort of bridge right across the Mediterranean."
"B..Bu..But they hate them" God stuttered, taking a moment to regain his previous confidence. "Although it's nothing I haven't seen before! Soon they will cross that bridge, then they will try live together, and then they will begin killing each other. It was the same in Palestine, in syr..." God paused to comprehend what was unfolding below.
"It appears they're building some sort of sculpture in the middle East." Moe announced clearly enthralled in the brilliance of mankind's creations. "A sculpt...oh!...you mean a shrine Moe! Yes of course! As Always they go and make up some phony cause to follow and end up killing each other over who's right and who's wrong..."
"But they are all atheist's remember? That's why you left them behind isn't it?" Moe interrupted. God clearly frustrated by the obvious contradiction in his previous statement faltered for a moment as the sculpture developed into a large dove caring an olive branch.
Becoming increasingly agitated by the apparent Utopia developing beneath him God bellowed out "You realize I also left sinners behind Moe! Society will fall apart with the lack of morality in the world! I bet you America is in ruins!" God spun the world to finally prove to Moe that all is not well below however when the Earth finally slowed to a halt they were met with a rather positive looking society. Moe, aware of God's heightening anger gingerly put forward his point.
"Not to be argumentative your holiness but I believe by leaving the sinners behind you've left the majority of politicians behind who are willing to make unmoral decisions if it means helping their country. By the looks of it almost everywhere has been left with a stable government. Education is open to everyone regardless of their religion. The lack of religious segregation and improved education has vastly contributed to social diversi..."
God arced in a circle to face him. "Moe Siah! Are you seriously trying to tell me that those people down there, the sinners and atheists are happy without me?!" Frightened by God's explosive comments, Moe quivered off the stand. "N..N..No Sir, never sir, I just think they don't realize how great it is up here. Th...That's all..."
"Good well then go down there and tell them all what they're missing!"
|
When "it" happened, I was with Mom and Dad. It was nearing Christmas and we were out shopping along with millions of others. Every store had a Christmas tree, and every tree had lights, ornaments, and an evangelical topper. It was always weird for me… the Christmas decorations I mean. I never saw anything for Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, you-name-it. I thought living during that time meant “political correctness” and “non-discrimination.” Whatever, I digress.
There was snow on the sidewalks, shoveled away by store owners. Snow on the street signs, branches, and rooftops. Snow everywhere. It was even snowing when it happened. I remember that detail quite well. I’ll get to why later.
I grew up in a mid-class family. We lived comfortably but I didn’t get all the toys and gadgets I wanted every year. I always got phones a year after they came out, cars from a decade before, and clothes pretty much ran in the family. But I lived well. When I was seven-teen, I was gifted one of my father’s old bibles. I was actually interested in it, not because I was religious but because I wondered why people were so caught up in a man they couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and couldn’t prove. It was all asinine if you asked me… "asked" me. Now? Now I know they were right. He existed. I use the term “He” loosely. From what I can tell, He appears how an individual would like to see Him. For Mom, She was a woman. For Dad, a man. For me? Well… I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t see, along with all my closest friends, many from my generation, and… get this … 90% of the United States’ politicians. I know, shocker.
Anyways, how it happened. I said I remember the snow. I remember it covering everything. I remember it falling from the sky. Well that’s because it stopped. Everything stopped. The lights blinking on and off paused on. The clock stopped at 3:17 p.m. Even the setting sun stopped. Then, a bright beam of light rose over the horizon as if it was moving from the other side of the planet, opposite the direction of the sun. It was like the sun was rising in reverse, sped up by 100%, and illuminated by 200%. I looked around and saw people looking to it. Some, trapped in it’s gaze. Others, worried like I. Then I heard it. In unison, everyone staring into the light exclaimed, “It’s Him.” Or, “It’s Her.” I asked Mom, “Who is?! Who’s who?!” Everything grew overexposed. The buildings on the street vanished in the light, my parents’ faces began to turn white, from the tip of the nose to the back of the head. My shoes, soaked in the warm water which had just melted from the snow. Then, the last thing I ever heard Mom say, “God.”
To whomever may read this; past, present, or future... I write to give my recollection of "it" to the System. Never do I want a world so divided as a single Being was able to make it. Now we all know He existed, but we don’t regret not believing. We have improved the human condition by leaps and bounds. We did. It wasn’t up to Him. We made of this world something far greater than He ever could. God is now Us.
| 2016-07-26T15:00:51 | 2016-07-26T14:00:00 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] Everybody has a number on their heads that shows how many people they screwed over in their life.You've been a proud zero your whole life.One day you wake up and look at the mirror. You see 7.5 billion
|
"*Hello, thank you for calling LifeStats, please hold while we connect you to someone of assistance*"
"Hello this is Ana! How may I help you today?"
"Yes Hi, it appears that my stat has an error. It is showing 7.5 Billion?"
"Phew, looks like you screwed the entire planet there, haha, or are about to!"
"Haha yeah, could you please look into it?"
"Sure. Could you please confirm your full name, date of birth, and address please?"
"Adam Goddard, Two-hundred suns into Thirty-two winters, at Brown Hut 2, Poseidon Lane, Atlantis."
"Perfect. Give me a few minutes and we'll do a few checks."
"Sure."
.................................................................
BOOP BOOP BOOP BOOP
*Fuck's sake, did they seriously just hang up after 30 minutes? I can't go to work like this.*
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Adam Goddard, we have a warrant for your immediate arrest. Please do not resist."
"Surely this is a misunderstanding! Would someone please explain what's happening?"
"You are being arrested by association for disobeying the federations' orders under section 18.439C 'The Forbidden Fruit' act"
"I am sorry, I don't follow?"
"Your wife, Eve Goddard, has stolen ultimate top-classified information, and has leaked it to intergalactic space, and she has stated that you have aided her."
"What!! I do not kn-"
"Save it for the court."
**A FEW MILLION LIGHTS YEARS AWAY**
"Ha. Interesting, someone from the Laniakea Super Cluster has just taken the bait." - Qreclops said whilst monitoring *"Sample Planet Simulation 10,029"* on his screen.
"Interesting indeed, maybe this time they'll figure it out?" - Vlommik, Qreclops' longtime colleague added.
"Yeah. Alright, reset civilisation and world settings?"
"Yep. But definitely keep Adam and Eve"
"Alright, let's see how this goes, here goes Simulation 10,030"
..................................................................................................
If you liked Qreclops and Vlommik, [here's](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7jtvrq/wp_jesus_was_sent_to_earth_by_aliens_to_test_our/dr9nwjh?utm_source=reddit-android) another one of their shenanigans I wrote on this sub a month ago :)
|
I have always been proud of my number. Zero. I have never screwed anyone over. Never! Not once. At work I always stayed late and was sure to make sure that everything was perfect! Even going out of my way to do other people's work for them. When I go out, I hold doors for hours to make sure no one gets left out in the cold. I have never dated, too risky. The biggest accomplishment I have is my 0. But I woke up and today it is 7.5 Billion!
I quickly run to the bathroom to look for something to cover everything up. I don't have any makeup. Although that never covers up the numbers. I could try and hat and wear it over my number, but that only works for numbers under 1000, when it hits 1000 the number goes out of the sides. I could try to wear a mask. But only people with numbers exceedingly large wear masks, everyone knows not to trust anyone with a mask!
Shit shit shit, I have work in two hours, if they see me with 7.5 BILLION I will most certainty get fired! How did this even happen? What did I do yesterday?
I went to woke up. A normal breakfast of eggs and toast. Brought Mike his eggs and toast. Chatted with Sally about life. Gave that guy on the bus my phone so he could make a call. Wait!
I take my phone out and check where he called. 952-596-****. I turn on my computer and check the where the 952 area code is.
"What the heck is in Bloomington Minnesota? Surely something that could screw over every person on Earth must have been on the news."
I turn on the news and there it is. "Local man, Jonas Stransti dies mysteriously in his home. Police suspect that he was murdered by the mafia for unpayed loans. Stransti was working on a miracle cure that would cure every disease in existence. The suspect was linked to the Coliferalli family led by Vinnie Coliferalli.".
That is him, the man I gave my phone to. The man I let make a call.
"After comprehending Coliferalli police confirmed his guilt with is his number, 7.5 billion. Yes, 7.5 billion, every person on Earth. If you see someone with the number 7.5 billion please notify the police immediately, they have also assisted in the murder of Stransti."
| 2018-01-21T20:00:12 | 2018-01-21T19:44:50 | 104 | 56 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
They swept across the dunes, conquering all foes before them. Charging forward to the roar of cannon and rifle, no stronghold or fort could stem the tide of red and gold that spew forth from the edge of the horizon. Like the sea, this force could not, would not be restrained by weather, terrain or people in the pursuit of black and gold. Even after there was nothing left, the body still raged, searching, pulsating. Waiting to consume all.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.
|
The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***"
| 2016-01-29T07:22:10 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] You are the world's nicest man. You have dedicated your life to make other people's lives better. After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, you decided to do one last act of selflessness. Make everyone you know hate you to spare them the grief when die.
|
"I'm sorry Mr. Jones, you have cancer. It's terminal. You have months to live. You should make preparations"
Those words stuck with me over the following months. As my health slowly faded away, I reflected on my life. Years upon years of helping my fellow man. My fortunes were spent on helping people instead of buying shiny baubles to entertain myself. Schools were built. Diseases eradicated. Clean water and food for thousands. I built houses with Jimmy Carter. Thousands call me "Papa" or even "Friend". Even as the pain of my cancer consumed me, these thoughts always brought a small smile.
I've met the great heads of state, billionaire tycoons, Hollywood stars, athletes. The Dalai Lama called me a shining star. The Pope wept when he heard of my diagnosis.
But now, I'm dying and I don't want the world to grieve. I have to do something to turn the world against me. To undo the years of goodwill I've created. It must be huge and it must be quick? How can I turn the millions of people that I've helped against me in weeks?
Ah, I've got it. It's so simple. And with a stroke of a pen it's done, I can finally rest knowing that nobody will grieve when I'm gone. I've spared them that pain.
"Pay to the order of Re-Elect Trump 2020.... 100 million dollars".
|
How do you hurt someone without hurting them?
That was what the man thought about. The man needed his loved ones to hate him in order for them to not be sad when he dies in a few days.
The only thing he could think of was lying. If he made up bad stuff that he did, he could recontexulized previous good stuff as bad.
A fake deathbed confession! That was it!
No... confessing shows remorse... it would be too difficult to lie about things big enough to overcome that factor.
A fake diary! This is perfect! The man could write a series of entries saying how much they don't care about anyone, insult them, then write hoe in the last entry how the man intended to burn this so that way no one would know.
It was perfect!
He wrote on his wedding night that all he could think about was bonin, his wife and even her sister.
He wrote that when he was comforting his parents he was trying to get money out of them.
He wrote that he though his friends weren't as smart as him.
He didn't lie about anything he did, that was the secret he realized. He didn't need to change *what* he did, just the *intention* of what he did.
It was perfect. Now the man could die happy. Knowing no one would miss him while he was gone...
| 2018-05-14T07:56:31 | 2018-05-14T06:09:57 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
I still don't know to this day whether we were more confused over the other, or god's sudden, fatal disappearance.
Usually we'd skip church and get stoned in the gutter between the parking lot and the stretch of weeds. We'd drink whatever he could sneak from the cupboards of whoever it was he was staying with that week. More often than not it was spiked lemonade, or some other canned fruity things the mothers downed.
I remember one day in specific when everything bad that could happen, had happened to him. You couldn't tell he was crying, or why, but I knew him better than anyone. I knew there was a bad, burning taste of god in his mouth, then. I knew he was young; I knew he was crushed by the weight.
So we'd go in for praise, then sneak out to worship each other. And we'd cry, and we'd drink, and we'd smoke stale cigarettes.
Soon, we started to skip the praise and service altogether. After all, they do say we are the church. Though I think we were the emptiest kind. We carried the weight of eachother's cross. And nailed eachother on the floor.
Maybe god was really watching. Maybe god was dead. Maybe he forgot. Maybe sleeping.
Maybe.
|
The brand of cough syrup John bought was not right, not for dulling down the day to a drooling stupor. Fun intoxicants were there no doubt, but so were other toxic chemicals that could quite easliy corrode the liver. Down the hatch it went, and have you ever felt a gust of wind smack with extra force? That is John's caution, carried away as he too drifts on toward a dimmer, more complacent place. A dab of drool dances down his slackened chin, a slow retarded walz of ignored spittle. Eyes glaze with shadow of ignorant bliss flick once, twice, and thrice to stay. What a distant good feeling world he is in with all numbnees ahh. Some guy is on his bed and he looks tired or dead. Not a problem for John as John is super good now. Like so nice and where is his pillow, under head? Ah and uh so he's in clouds and sleep. On to somethin how dreams awake but deep. That worked, he love cough syrup. Thick and gross it help. Pain gone, so long. The selfless song. I mumble. Farewell.
| 2017-01-14T15:12:58 | 2017-01-14T14:18:10 | 279 | 24 |
[WP] WritingPrompt: A man asks you in a shakey voice if you're alright. You hesitantly say yes, to which he responds by getting a look of terrified horror and screams "I knew it! You can see them too! Don't let them get you!"
|
My hands shook as I sat hunched in the park bench, biting my lip to stop the screams from tumbling out. They were getting closer. Never before had they gotten closer. They were tall and crooked, whiter than snow, their eyes a blaring yellow that cut right through me. They always stood a fair distance away, and I seemed to be the only one to see them. The first time was when I was 9, and there were two, brother and sister. They stood in the corner of my room, holding hands, their skin white and eyes bright yellow.
I could tell the males apart from females because the males were shorter. They always just stood and stared, their perfect white skin a stark contrast to the shadows of my room. I was never scared of them, because they were calm and peaceful.
But today they moved closer, well, more like glided. It was just a few feet, but it was enough to send me spiralling, as I had never seen them move before. They always just watched from afar.
The light hand on my shoulder almost made me jump out of my skin. I looked up and saw a man standing over me, his skin dark and his eyes warm:
"Are you alright, miss?"
I bit my lip and choked out a hesitant: "Y-yes.."
As soon as I'd spoken, the man's hand on my shoulder stiffened and his eyes widened, hardering:
"I knew it! You can see them too! Don't let them get you!"
It took me a moment to process his words until it clicked and I was on my feet in an instant:
"You see them?! Describe them!"
The man shook his head as if to clear it and spoke:
"Tall, white, yellow eyes. Males shorter than females."
My mouth hung agape:
"Yes! You can really see them?"
He merely nodded. I beckoned him to sit down with me and he complied.
"They're closer aren't they?" He asked, staring straight at one female. They usually appeared in groups of 2-4, but never alone.
"Yes. Just before you approached me, one of them slid closer."
"They aren't hostile, but..there's something off about them still."
I hummed in agreement. Just then, one female began gliding ever closer to us. Me and my new friend froze on the bench, our shoulders touching as we stared at her coming closer.
It wasn't long before she was upon us. She stood so close I could smell a beautiful smell wafting off of her pure white skin. Lavander.
She stared down at us, a thin line across her face, which I assumed was her mouth, twisting into a gentle smile.
I dared a glance at my companion and he seemed just as entranced as I was. I looked back up into her yellow eyes. They were full of bizzare images and flashes. I got a crushing feeling wrapping around my shoulders and my breath hitched. Then she moved her hands and placed one gentle palm upon my cheek, and the other on the man's. I heard him softly suck in a breath between his teeth. I held my breath, her cool palm gentle cupping my cheek.
She never spoke, but I knew what she was asking of us, and I agreed. I felt no resistance, and by the looks of it, neither did my friend. I closed my eyes and reached deep inside of me, then stood, the female letting her hands drop from our faces. I opened my eyes and looked at the man, then back at the bench. Our bodies sat there, with empty eyes and hollow insides. The man reached out his hand and I accepted it, staring ahead at Omna'ya. I knew her name now, I knew all of their names. All of *our* names.
|
The last thing he told me before he disappeared right in front of my eyes was “Don't let them get you!” I knew what he was talking about but still couldn’t accept it. These were merely dreams until a day ago and now everything is coming true. I started to run towards my car to get out of here as fast as possible. I could see them in the distance, so I knew I still had some time. I don’t know why that man so shocked I could see them because, apparently, everybody can see them. Everyone is screaming and trying to get away. They look like they know what’s coming for them.
It’s strange to see so many people in panic. This is not how it was in my dreams. There, I was the only person in the city. Obviously, I didn’t expect everyone to just disappear, but I had a very strange feeling about all of this. My curiosity became stronger than my desire to escape, so I decided to stop next to a man who was sitting on the ground, holding his head and repeating “This can’t be real!”
As soon as I asked him whether he was okay, he vanished. My pulse started skyrocketing and the panic I was feeling matched what I saw on city streets. I felt like I had nowhere to go. Even if I did, it seemed pointless because death was imminent. I pinched myself several times to see if I was dreaming, but I wasn’t that lucky. I could barely breathe and it became impossible to drive, so I just sat in my car and looked at the people who were all running and screaming. The more I paid attention the more I noticed that some were disappearing.
Maybe that’s what happens to you when they get you. I didn’t know what was going on and it became just too much too handle, so I decided to just close my eyes and wait for them. I suddenly remember this was always the part of the dream when I would wake up. Every time, I would sit in my car and 15 seconds later I would hear a loud buzzing sound, and then I was awake. Although it seemed unlikely, I was hoping this would happen again.
My car doors were unlocked, which turned out to be very convenient for a wealthy man in a business suit, who got in and started yelling at me.
“What are you doing? DRIVE.”
“There is no point, we can’t escape.”
“Start the engine!”
“No.”
I started to hear the loud buzzing sound and smiled as I closed my eyes again. However, this time I didn’t wake up; I was kicked out of the car by the businessman, who started yelling again.
“You have to stay unpredictable! You have to do things they don’t expect you to do. It’s the only way to avoid becoming their victim. They can only get to you if you’re doing the same thing you did in your dreams.”
“How do you know this?”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, kid. It’ll all make sense soon, just follow me.”
We ran as fast as we could through the city until we got to a bridge. The businessman told me to stop, after which he told me to jump in the river.
“I don’t even know how to swim!”
“It’s the only way to escape. You’ll have to do it.”
“What about you?”
“I have to find some other way. You’ll be okay, kid.”
I thought about whether or not to do it, but before I could make a decision the businessman pushed me. As I was submerged in the water, they appeared in front of me – guilt, shame, anger, jealousy, sadness. They were trying to push me deeper, but I gathered all the strength I could and got to the surface. Looking for easier prey, all of them went away.
| 2019-07-01T09:29:42 | 2019-07-01T08:39:50 | 18 | 13 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
Sometimes I dream that I'm the last man on earth. That the bombs fell, or that big asteroid finally hit, or some terrorist group released a virus- I can never remember which- and one by one we scrabbled and clawed at each other until only I was left. I dream of long, slow days watching the horizon for another person, an animal, a vehicle, anything at all.
And sometimes I can't lie to myself any longer, and I clutch my blanket close against the silence, and I wonder if I'll care when the food runs out.
|
Its getting darker now, I can barely see my withered hands through the flickering
candlelight.
I can sense life itself evacuating the room, my hope and will to live, leaves with it.
I fought through all the other nights, but tonight will be my last for I am the only
one left.
Tears stream down my face as I feel it enter the room, and in the dead silence I
hear the cold words, "Its time to come now, and join the others."
| 2015-03-06T10:49:08 | 2015-03-06T07:56:35 | 19 | 11 |
[WP]You are born immortal, but only your mind survives. Each time you die, your memories are secured in a random baby being born and have to repeat the life from youth to old age. After living for a millennia, you decide there is one solution: End all life and with it your unfortunate plight.
|
The weirdest part is reading about yourself.
You see, in most occasions I'd be born in overpopulated, poor parts of the world where most people live. At first, ages ago, I'd try to explore, see all sides of life, absorb all cultures. However now, when I've been born on all continents, in most countries and nations it came to my understanding that living poor gives you no advantages whatsoever. So first thing I'd do when I relearn how to walk is to use my just tamed legs to walk of a cliff, in front of the moving carriage or just plunge head first down the stairs. Sorry mom & dad, at this point I don't even care.
Using this strategy I don't loose much time and at certain point I'd pop up somewhere I see more suitable & perspective. In the past I had tried many professions, had learned many skills and tried many crafts. However my knowledge in history is...random. there's no preferred area I'd know more about as often I would be just a peasant and how would I know about different royal twists. Granted, I've been a king once, a princess twice and more often than you'd think I could get good scholarly position simply for knowing maths (which never really changes) and grammar.
Centuries later I'd find a paragraph about myself in a history book and that would keep me entertained for a few hours.
So yeah, it's always weird reading about yourself.
As I mentioned, one thing which doesn't really change is maths. It's constant, solid structure gives me a nice retreat when I feel like it. Sometimes I'd even calculate probabilities of being born in a desired place and would try to kill myself when being born there is most likely. Once it actually even worked!
Recent passion of mine is science. Physics, mainly. I'm good with maths and, by killing myself a few times I'd sooner or later get to a good place to start my scientific career. Funny thing - usually I can easily find and refer to my publications from previous lives.
However recently I came to a conclusion that the path of scientific progression humanity has taken can end in two ways: we would either be extremely lucky, successful and proceed to a new era of discovery, or we would wipe ourselves out using newly found techniques. As for me, I consider both scenarios as a win: I'd either see vastness of space & time not being bound to this boring planet, or I'd see the fall of humanity as one of the last humans. In both cases I'd like to be in a first row. That's why I tried hard for the last few lives to progress science even further. And now we are close to the end of a first stage...
Someone knocked on my door, "Professor Oppenheimer, Sir, we are ready for the test".
"Yes, coming", I answered. I even know what I'd say if test succeedes: now I am become Death, the destroyer of world... funny, I was the one to say it first. In another language, in another life, ages and ages ago...
|
It was time. Four lonely lifetimes of work, and finally the virus was ready. One small capsule. Break it on the ground, and in a few months, I would finally be able to rest. I just hope that when my time comes, it will be as painless as it is for everyone else.
I close my eyes, and-
*White all around. Nothingness, as far as the eye can see. I am lying down, but if it’s the ground or a floor or what I do not know. I look around.*
*A small child sits, sucking on a finger and looking around too. I walk over.*
*“Hello?”*
*She looks up, her eyes bright and curious. She cocks her head. “Are you God?”*
*I laugh. “What? Why would I be God?”*
*“I don’t know. I always thought God was tall, and looked a little sad. Maybe it was you.”*
*I shake my head. “I’m not God.”*
*“Are you here to give me something?” She points.*
*Behind me is a small flower, barely breaking free from some unseen root. It is growing quickly, its stem elongating and its petals blooming. It is life.*
*“Yes,” I say, kneeling down. “I can give you life, an endless amount, more than any of us are ever supposed to get.”*
*“What do you mean?”*
*“You’ll live, over and over again. You’ll be a kid, you’ll be a teen, you’ll be an adult, you’ll be old, you’ll die, over and over again.”*
*She seems to think this over. “I can’t be a kid the whole time?”*
*“No…you can’t.”*
*“That’s too bad. Then I could play tag and jumprope all day, and watch tv and movies with Mom and Dad every day.” This hurts me, cuts deep like a knife would in the side that you never saw coming. I think of the first time, the very first time, when I was just a manager at McDonald’s and it was enough, coming home every night, going for walks with my wife, going to Dodger’s games with my daughter and watching her cheer and cry, and how she’d fall asleep every time on my shoulder on the drive home…*
*“You won’t be able to do that either. I mean…you will, but…”*
*“Did someone give life to you too?”*
*I think back. “I don’t know.”*
*“I don’t know either. What should I do, mister?”*
*I look at this girl. I honestly don’t know…*
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
My eyes open. I look at the capsule, still in my hand, and hope I made the right choice.
| 2018-12-30T12:27:39 | 2018-12-30T10:33:24 | 234 | 38 |
[WP] "No Man can kill me!" the demon jeers, taking in the carnage it has caused. "But I am no man," you proclaim, ripping away your helmet to reveal your feminine features. You strike, your blade bouncing harmlessly off the demon's hide. "Did you... did you really think that's what I meant?"
|
"CUUUUUUUUT" a shrill voice screams out. You groan inwardly and let your sword drop limply to your side.
"Wh...what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Dorgridion looks around confused, leathery wings drooping.
*"Amateurs"* You think, fluffing your hair and gesturing to your assistant for a water bottle. The small goblin comes quickly, opening a fresh bottle.
The director is rubbing at his eyes as if maybe, just maybe he can rub away yet another bad take. Finally he stands and comes towards the large demon. "Look D-man. We've talked about this. You have got to stay on script." He punctures he word with a small clap.
"But... But that's not at all how prophecies work. Like at all. I would know, I come from a long line of de..."
The director cuts him off, "Look man. You aren't in Hell anymore. This is Hollywood and if you want to survive in here, you gotta do this right and you gotta do it fast. There's a line of demons out there that I could cast in a heartbeat.
Dorgridion again looks confused "But she... she wouldn't... she can't actually kill me... if you are filming something, shouldn't you at least make it accurate?"
"ITS. A. SHAMPOO. COMMERCIAL" The directors shrill voice is now echoing off the set. Your goblin assistant winces a little and you wave him off. Dorgridion looks like he might start crying. You just roll your eyes. The director takes and deep breath, his hands together, almost as if he were praying for patience, "Just say your lines, let her stab you and editing will take care of the rest, okay? Okay."
He returns to his chair, "Places everyone" To nobody in particular he mutters "I cannot believe I sold my soul to pay for art school just to end up here"
ETA: thanks do much for all the love 💕 this is my first time posting here and you guys have definitely given me the confidence to keep posting!! 😊
|
Sora's eyes widened in surprise when her blade clanged helplessly against my body. I was confused as well- not by my invincibility, but by how literally she took my words.
"Y-You... You *do* realize that by 'man' I mean human, right...?" Satan be damned, I know it's been a while since my lines were written, but surely even a teenage girl of the modern world would still understand them?
"The prophecies never *said* human!" She said indignantly. "Everyone back in *my* town took it the same way I did."
I scratched my head. "I... I really have no clue what to say to that. Um, better luck next time?"
As I stared around at the useless carnage I caused, I sighed. "You clearly aren't prepared, and *I* can't achieve *my* fate unless *you* achieve yours... So just go home for now and get a better read of the Ancient One's words. And by the next lunar eclipse, I expect a 10-page paper of an analysis on the prophecies of the Ancient One, along with a 5-page essay explaining why and how you are fit to fulfill them."
Sora's eyes widened, but before she could open her mouth I continued. "The next lunar eclipse is in 957 days, which is around three years, and by now you should be familiar with the content even if you don't know the exact meaning so I don't want any excuses! Either get it done or pay a terrible price," I said. "Now... I have a random child to go make an unfairly legally binding deal with. Adieu, as the modern spawn say nowadays." I sank under the earth without waiting for a response.
Even if I waited, I wouldn't get any response- Sora was already sprinting for her car, getting ready to drive back to town and start on her essays. Or maybe give the people who raised her a piece of her mind for interpreting the prophecies wrong. Who knows?
| 2021-03-30T17:42:00 | 2021-03-30T17:10:01 | 2,632 | 115 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile.
|
The advantage of being raised in my family is I’d been taught what to do in almost every situation, from breaking a nail to getting kidnapped. That’s why I didn’t panic when I woke up to find myself tied to a chair in what looked, and smelled, like an old bathroom, and instead took stock of my situation.
Purse gone. Super cute impractical girls’ night out dress intact but impractical. One door, presumably locked. One toilet in serious need of cleaning, one sink, rusted but, alas, short of any handy sharp edges that would help cut the ropes that held me to the chair. A metal chair, so no breaking it into splinters. One window, narrow, above my head, too small to climb through, but through which I could see the full moon. I smiled. That’s one asset anyway.
I could hear the murmur of voices outside the door. Two men from the sound of it. I remember seeing three when they attacked, so one must be out. Collecting the ransom from my husband, I guessed. I glanced at the moon again. Would Sam come? Or will he expect me to get out of this on my own?
I heard a door open and slam shut. Guess I was about to find out.
‘Did you get it?’
‘Here it is.’ A thud, the sound of a zipper, and then silence.
‘The hell? This is just newspaper!’
‘What does the note say?’
‘‘Nice knowing you?’ The hell is that supposed to mean?’
I almost laughed. There’s my answer. Sam expects me to get out of this on my own. What the hell, it’s been awhile since I let loose, and it is a full moon.
‘Guess their marriage isn’t as happy as we were led to believe.’
‘What are we going to do?’
A few more minutes of whispered arguments and then the door to my prison slammed open. Silhouetted against the light I made out three figures, One tall and thin, one who looked like he went to the gym way too much, the third smaller, but still fit. Faces uncovered; they plan on killing me.
I could imagine what I must look like to them. A petite young woman in a cocktail dress, trussed and helpless against their strength. Nothing but a rich man’s trophy wife. Idiots.
‘Guess your husband found someone better,’ Tall and Thin said with a sneer.
‘Oh, no. That note wasn’t directed at me.’ Snapping the ropes that held me, I stood up, the light of the moon spilling over me in rather dramatic fashion as I started my shift from girl to wolf. ‘He was talking to you.’
|
"Nice...knowing...you..."
The sinister man's mustached lips formed the words as he read. He was visibly trembling, teeth almost gnashing with rage. *"Nice knowing you???* The hell is this clown on about? All right, Toots, *talk."*
He leveled a pistol at me absentmindedly as he stared down at the typewritten note in his hand. At his feet, an expensive leather briefcase lay open. It was filled with blank paper.
I was tied wrist and ankle, still in the black cocktail dress I'd been wearing when I was abducted. I felt it was truly bad form to abduct a woman on her way to a party. Formal attire was a bitch to sit around in. Especially tied to an office chair.
Especially with this clown waving a gun in my face.
"Where's the *money,* Toots?" asked the sinister man, lips tight with rage. "You've got thirty seconds to explain why I shouldn't blow your pretty brains out."
I cast a secretive glance around the room. The one window was too small for me to escape from, even if I weren't tied. But the sliver of night sky outside was taking on a silvery sheen...moonlight was beginning to pour into the room. By its glow I could see the stubble on the sinister man's cheeks, the desperate shadows under his eyes. The waver of the muzzle as he held the gun on me.
The edge of a bright sphere inched into the visible square of night.
I felt a little stronger and a little braver with each increase In the moonlight. The ropes around my wrists and ankles were inconvenient. As my muscles swelled, I snapped the ropes like string and stood, taller than before and quite a lot hairier. I skinned back my red lips in a sudden snarl.
"There won't be any money," I said sweetly. "Aren't I prize enough?" My laugh was a growl.
By this time I was a seven foot werewolf in six-inch stiletto heels and bursting black satin. I was ravenous.
"Jesus Christ!" screamed the man, scrambling backwards and fumbling with the gun. He shot thrice. Two bullets hit me--in the arm and shoulder--but they were silly steel things and did not wound me. Only silver would pierce *my* flesh. I advanced, grinning a grotesquely toothy grin.
"You can go! Get back! Don't--" said the sinister man, before I ate his heart raw.
I saw myself out.
| 2021-03-19T05:11:44 | 2021-03-19T04:04:01 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] You, and a select few others, go into stasis so as to survive an imminent meteorite strike. You wake up 400 years later only to discover it missed.
|
400 years. That’s how long the scientists had predicted it would take for the dust to settle. The meteor that was heading straight for Earth made the one that killed the dinosaurs look like a pebble in comparison. A 98% human fatality was predicted, while the dust in the atmosphere would prevent the sun’s rays from reaching Earth and imposing a new ice age.
There were obviously plans to divert or even destroy the meteor, but Operation Lazarus was put into effect as a failsafe. I know, could they have chosen a more clichéd name? 320 of us were put into suspended animation on a moonbase. We were to be awoken immediately if they succeeded in avoiding the impact. So when I was awoken by the automated nurses, I knew humanity had failed and that I was now a member of an endangered species.
Looking around I saw that none of my fellow sleepers had been awoken yet. They said some people would not survive the whole freezing and thawing process, I certainly felt worse for wear, but surely I couldn’t be the only survivor.
“Where is everybody else?”
“You are the first to be successfully awoken. There is a message for the mission leader from Earth.”
I wasn’t mission leader, but third in command, Jones and Wachoski must not have made it. I told the automated nurse to lead on to the communication room.
The room was minimalistic, sleek white panels with a large screen integrated into the wall and a keyboard below it. I started the communication device up and there was one video message from Earth. Dated for 400 years ago, were these the last words of planet Earth? I opened the video, and Michael McAvoy appeared on screen, the man behind Project Lazarus, and began to speak.
“Hello Mission Leader. We’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is the meteor didn’t hit Earth.”
My heart began to race. If the meteor missed then why have we been asleep for 400 years? Why didn’t they come to wake us up?
“We destroyed the meteor, but we didn’t account for the resulting debris. A fine layer of rubble came into Earth’s orbit, creating a kind of layer around us. It’s impossible for us to launch any ships through the debris without losing the ships. Our scientists have estimated it will take another 600 years for the rubble to normalize its orbit, and allow us to launch any more space missions. You’re going to have to go back to sleep.”
------------
[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
|
Oh boy, everything is different.
I mean it should be, I've been in stasis for exactly 400 years, the only problem is that it should be a different kind of...different, right?
Myself and 60'000 others were put into a state of immortality, a last ditch effort to continue humanities existence in the Universe. All nations had decided unanimously that a meteor would not spell the same fate for us as it had the Dinosaurs. We were selected for various reasons, the first being age and fitness, no one over 25 and no one unfit. Knowledge could be learned but the fitness required to rebuild society could not, we could stop ourselves from ageing but we couldn't turn back time. The second was diversity, people from countries all around the world were selected to ensure a world that would be as genetically healthy as possible. Unfortunately this meant that any history of hereditary disease was a immediate disqualification. These two reasons alone cut down the number of available participants so much so, that all was left was to sort through applications.
And it looks like it was all for fucking nought. Leaving everyone I loved seemed horrible at the time, but it seems far worse now that I wake up and the first thing to grace my view is a crowd, tens of thousands of people all screaming and waving banners, many with my name. They shouldn't be here, no one should.
As it turns out, the meteor had missed, I say 'missed' but it was no fluke. It turns out they had been working on a last ditch plan from the beginning but knew they'd need to put us all to sleep first. I awoke to learn that I was one of only a few hundred that had made it the full 400 years, natural disasters, sabotage and faulty machines had taken care of the rest. Unfortunately I'm no superhuman, I'm not stronger than these people of the future, I don't have some knowledge they need, I'm just an ordinary man, completely out of touch with those around me.
I should learn how everything new works but theres so much, everything is different, the world looks similar from afar, but the closer you look the differences are astounding, I can go to a shooting range and fire a laser gun, and no one around me would blink twice.
Today I'm going to meet someone who can help find me a job. What can I possibly do in the 24th century that a robot couldn't do better?
The worlds different
And yet I remain the same
Far too much has changed
| 2016-04-03T05:25:55 | 2016-04-03T04:49:26 | 189 | 70 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed.
|
*Are you ready to head out boys?* Jason yells from the living room.
We take out buttons with us, as always, just to be safe. Things used to be much more difficult before The Button was introduced. Since the first night, we haven't failed to go without a payday yet. We're working on our 56th night tonight.
*Alright let's go!* Jason impatiently yells at me.
I've been having second thoughts about getting some new friends recently. Jason and the boys have become so misguided and arrogant since The Button has been paying out.
It's Monday so we do what we always do on Mondays. We pick a nice retirement home the next town over and make our plan. Tonight's innocent victim is an elderly man sound asleep with MSNBC still flickering on his tv.
*We're going to be fast and rich again tonight boys!* Jason yells to us in an attempt to excite us. It works for most of the guys.
*Who wants to do the honors?* he asked.
Nobody steps forward because after all, we are taking another persons life.
*Why don't you do it tonight? You've been down for a while. This will pick you up.* Jason says as he points at me.
I've been selected and the guys are already pushing me forward before I can decline.
I go forward with the plan as intended. I sneak in to the room and give a thumbs up to the boys in the window to signal I've made it in.
I walk over to this man's button. I look at it, look at him. Look at it, look at him.
I go back to the window and signal to the guys.
A scream of terror echoes from the outside of the retirement home.
*Jason always liked to be the first to push his button after a job.*
Tomorrow I find new friends.
|
*You're listening to Z103, live from California! The time is 2 AM, and for those of you who just tuned in, the button has still not been pressed.*
Two timezones ahead, Bud yawned, rolling over in bed and pressing his chin into his pillow as the radio on his nightstand launched into the latest pop hit. The upbeat music washed over him; nothing but a button announcement could prevent his eyelids from drooping lower. Bud figured he had about half an hour left in him before sleep consumed him. It was probably for the best: his commute was in four hours.
That spare chunk of change would be mighty useful, though. He massaged his stomach and received an angry rumble in response. It hadn't forgiven him for the three days' worth of gas station burritos. His brain heard the commotion and sent more waves of fatigue rolling through Bud's face. He needed to sleep. He'd regret staying up at work tomorrow.
Bud's ears perked up as the song cut mid-warble. Adrenaline forced him scrambling upright, feeling around his nightstand for the button. "This just in," the DJ said, "we're receiving reports that the button has been pressed by a widow in Sacramento named..."
The broadcast seemed to fizzle for a moment, and the DJ's voice grew heavy with distortion as he spoke the name. "Anne Washington."
Bud slammed the button, and relief flooded through him. Finally, he could sleep. An electric shock coursed through his veins, verifying his final thoughts. His head hit the nightstand, and his body, limped and charred, slowly rolled off the bed and fell onto the floor.
*You're listening to Z103, live from California! The time is 2:06 AM, and for those of you who just tuned in, the button was just pressed!*
| 2016-07-16T17:51:04 | 2016-07-16T16:59:02 | 3,429 | 342 |
[WP] An alien invasion happens during an alien invasion.
.
|
It’s funny how naïve science fiction writers were. They assumed we would be on the same level as aliens – that our battles would be fought on even ground. They egotistically thought that humans might even have an edge for our “special” upbringing on Earth.
But space is big. Really big. By the time, we finally found a way to quickly traverse it, we figured out the truth. Space isn’t the biggest boundary separating alien civilizations.
The universe formed 14 billion years ago, and it’s been habitable for much of that time. In comparison, our ape ancestors “only” appeared a few tens of millions of years ago, and we’ve only been able to reach out into the void for about a hundred years now.
Time is the boundary that truly separates life. It’s likely that in the whole Milky Way, there is no alien race that is exactly on our technology level. There are perhaps millions of races that are eons behind us, and many more that are just as far ahead. Some aliens are but ants to us. If we desired, we could crush them without a second thought. Other aliens, however, are gods. Their technological capability is beyond our understanding, beyond anything we could ever dream.
With such technological disparity, it seems almost inevitable that the universe is one giant game of predator and prey. As a young species just entering the galactic community, we are prey to all and predator to none. Some men dream of finding worlds that we can colonize, worlds where we can be the predators, but they don’t realize that we’re millions, even billions of years behind.
Until recently, we believed that maybe we’re late bloomers, billions of years late – that maybe we don’t have a place in this universe. If the universe is cold and unforgiving, the old and strong swallowing up the younger, weaker species, what chance did we have? With such powerful alien civilizations already in power around the galaxy, how could we even make it a hundred years without being crushed by a superior force?
Four days ago, an alien species of unknown origin entered the solar system. Their ships were incomprehensibly fast, and their strange weaponry tore through our defenses with little to no resistance. In a matter of minutes, the human defense was shattered. We were broken and vulnerable. The Earth and her colonies were ripe for the taking, a useful colony world to these dominant aliens.
They descended upon our colonies, rounding us up in billions. They vaporized our structures and facilities and built their own. At this moment, we knew there was nothing special about us. We were a small, insignificant species whose fate was at the mercy of this superior race.
But then they arrived. We called them the Arbiters, even though we never saw one in person. They sent one ship, the size of a small car. At this sight, the invaders scattered and ran, abandoning their projects and leaving our solar system. But they were too slow for the Arbiter ship – in an instant, it unleashed whatever arcane forces it had at its command, and the invaders completely disappeared. Our planets somehow reverted to their pre-invasion state, and indeed the only remaining evidence of the invasion was in our memories.
It was at that moment that we understood. This was how the prey survived. This was how civilizations were allowed to form.
It was at that moment that we made the choice. We abandoned our dreams of conquest and victory. We wouldn’t become invaders. We would become Arbiters.
|
"Lord Xerkanox!"
"What is it?" Lord Xerkanox waved three chitinous appendages in frustration, "You cannot inform me that these primitives are resisting?"
"Er, no, Mi'lord." The page rubbed his hind legs together, "It is the Gier'valettis. They've just left *RI*-space on the far side of the satellite."
"WHAT!" Xerkanox shrieked, his high pitched tone making the glass sculptures around him reverberate in sympathy, "Communicate with them. I demand conference!"
"Yes, mi'lord."
Ten Algution microcycles later, a ferrous-looking rock beast panted heavily on the view screen. Small craters on it's body emitting white steam under the pale lighting it preferred. A translator labored under the sounds of ancient rocks grinding together.
**"WE CLAIM THIS."**
"No, you do not." Lord Xerkanox drew his royal webbing together in a show of strength and nobility, "This colony is claimed by the Exetron Web. We have filed the claim and will defend it."
**"WE JAM CLAIM."** The Gier'valetti representative emitted more steam, occluding his view on the monitor, **"NO REPORT MADE."**
Lord Xerkanox twisted upon his suspension web, turning toward the page who was positioned over the communications controls, "This is untrue! I demand verification!"
The page manipulated controls with lightning speed, his carapace flushing a dark grey before going pale, "No verification was received."
**"WE TAKE."**
"Not without a fight." Lord Xerkanox closed his thirteen eyes, when he opened them there was something dangerous in the way the light reflected off of them.
"Mi'lord!" The page shrieked, "Fourteen Gier'valettis just exited *RI*-space in a flanking position."
**"WE TAKE NOW."**
"Page." Lord Xerkanox said with quiet menace, "Arm the AMCR Cannon."
**"YOU FIGHT US?"**
"No." Xerkanox twisted his lower mandible into an expression of devilish pleasure, "Page, target the planet. If we cannot take it, then we will turn it into just another cold rock."
"Mi'lord! there are 7.5 billion potential slaves! To destroy them would-"
"DO AS I SAY!" Lord Xerkanox roared, tearing his royal webbing in his fury.
The bridge was silent as the young page activated the cannon and aimed at the planet below. On the view screen, the living mountain stewed in his own steam. The microcycles stretched onward as deep in the bowels of the Exetron mothership power gathered on a weapon of world-annihilating power.
**"YOU PLAY DANGEROUS."**
"Are you willing to let all those useful sentients vaporize? I am."
The silence curled around them like the webs around Lord Xerkanox's body.
**"WE WILL RETURN TO TAKE THEM."**
"We will be ready."
The conference shut down and the Gier'valetti ships jumped away. Leaving Lord Xerkanox to watch as his armada enslaved the world called Earth.
| 2015-10-27T21:52:06 | 2015-10-27T21:07:49 | 1,764 | 132 |
[WP] The gatekeeper between hell and heaven sees many applications daily to transfer from the former into the latter. Today, for the first time, he saw someone wanting to go the other way.
|
"You heard me, Gatekeeper"
Every fiber of my immortal being winced at the mere thought of it, every shred of my soul refusing to entertain the idea of perverting the eternal, divine halls with the notion that the lord could be wrong!
"I need to get to Hell, Gatekeeper, I must find a witness"
I cannot help myself but to erupt into a storm of thunder like laughter, the frustrated soul of a human man scowling in disbelief and annoyance below me. "Forgive me Human I mean no disrespect, I laughed only at your naïve assertion" I asserted, it is unfitting a tool of the lord to be rude.
"I'm a lawyer and I made it to heaven, that should go at least some way to proving the legitimacy of my case" the man jested, the same conflict deescalation he has used time and time again in his mortal life, each time avoiding the pits of Hell, this time used to gain entry to that darkest of places. "Tell me: What case would that be again?" I commanded.
"The lord must be responsible for the sins of at least some of the sinners-" he stopped halfway, seeing the disbelief command my brow to my beard, a pity I did not need or ask for. "I can see you have already made up your mind, Gatekeeper, but I beg you, hear me out" he presumes to know my mind, insolent, however I shall forgive him and stow my feelings until the human has spoken his part.
"Continue!" I boom.
"Follow the Logic here Gatekeeper, the Lord created every aspect of every mortal?"
"Correct"
"And he created every aspect of the world in which they existed as mortals"
"Correct!"
"And he is omnipotent, so he knew everything that would transpire in his creation and could make any change he deemed fit"
"This had better have a point Human, there is literally armies seeking an audience to go the other way" I stated firmly
"Gatekeeper I once met a child who stole food from the market to survive, whose parents abandoned as a mere two year old due to her deformity, I had taken her food and blankets when I found her and she died in my arms sick and starved, she isn't here in heaven." I look deeply into his soul and I find no deceit.
"Few people make it here, Human" I struggle to answer.
"Gatekeeper, the Lord clearly has made some people who at the moment of their birth were already disqualified from heaven in the eyes of the Lord"
"Who might that be, Human?" I genuinely inquire.
"Every sinner, Gatekeeper. The Lord already knew what situations each mortal child will face and how they would react, yet did nothing to help them, stop them or inform them directly of the test, it is my understanding that this needlessly dooms most mortals to damnation."
"Human, mortality requires free will, else no distinction between the souls in hell and the souls in heaven can be made, if the Lord simply told everyone how to earn heaven in mortality then every single one would simply follow the instruction and live eternally in a paradise unearned.
"Well Gatekeeper, that's the thing, I need a witness cast into Hell itself that has met the Lord and chose to disobey, one of a few of the lords former servants, The devil himself." I recoiled at the mention of that fowl title, the man now was staring expectantly, patiently awaiting his answer. I had heard his plea, a most unique stance for one already in heaven. As I sat at my station simultaneously an eternity and an instant and ponder this dilemma I fall pray to both my loyalty to the Lord and my interest in the Humans proposition.
As I opened the gate, for the first time I feel a newfound empathy for its inhabitants.
That, My lord is the first reason I sentence you to Hell.
|
I sit between damnation and paradise. On my left stands a wrought iron gate with steps leading to unspoken horrors. On my right, a golden gate with a crystal staircase spiraling up to eternal bliss.
Between the two gates stands an ordinary office chair. That’s my chair, the seat of the Second Judge. It’s not as impressive as the First Judge’s, but hey, at least it has good lumbar support.
Every day, I listen as wretched souls crawl in from Hell and plead their case. *I donated to the poor. I picked up trash. I saved that cat.* Some of them ask politely, others yell and cry aloud. But often, it makes very little difference. There’s a limited number of spots available up in paradise and only an exceptional few succeed.
So, imagine my surprise when, for the first time in millennia, I hear footsteps coming from the golden gates. I turn and see a kindly old lady, dressed in white, coming through.
“Good morning, sir.” she says, her voice clear and ringing – a stark contrast to the voices I’ve gotten used to. “I wish to apply for Hell.”
“Miss…” I pull her files out from thin air, “Ms. Fellowes. For what crime you’ve committed do you think you deserve to be punished eternally?”
“Sir, I litter on the beach. Every time. Over my lifetime, I must’ve left at least a hundred pounds of trash behind.”
“Actually,” I flip through her files, “It’s just seven pounds.”
“Oh. Well, then. In church, I often fall asleep. I have made slight of our heavenly father. I deserve to be punished.”
“No, that's not enough–”
“As a kid, I killed so many ants! I stepped on them for no reason at all!”
I sigh. “Ms. Fellowes, do you want to tell me why you’re really here?”
She swallows. “It’s… it’s my son. I wish to bring him to heaven.”
“What!”
“He’s not a bad kid! It’s just… just that I’ve never been around. His dad died before he was born and I had to work all the time. That’s why he found friends in… in bad company.”
“Ms. Fellowes, I’m sorry to hear that, but–”
“How could you blame him for something beyond his control?” she cries, “You lot set him up to fail! This is your fault!” She steps forward and swings a punch at my face. As I reel from the surprise attack, she steals my keys and jams them into the wrought iron gate. Then, she leaps down the stairs in search of her son.
“Ow…” My jaw is definitely dislocated. Nursing it with a bag of ice, I quickly close both gates and change the locks. *I should really get two of those guardian angels Peter keeps talking about.*
After a while, Ms. Fellowes returns with her son. She tries using the stolen keys to no avail.
“Go away!” I shout. “You are not welcome here!”
“Sir, sir. Please!” She cries. “Leave me here, I’ll take his place.” I turn to look at the pair. Tears stream down her face. Her son is dazed and unaware, gazing into the distance. *She would give up her place for her son?* Something stirs inside me. I sigh and grab her son’s file.
“I see… I see that your son saved a cat, once.” I stand and open both gates. “You may both pass.”
Ms. Fellowes starts to cry. She throws her arms around me. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
I pat her hair softly. Maybe I should do this more often. I am the Second Judge after all – perhaps I could start believing in second chances.
| 2016-09-28T19:42:57 | 2016-09-28T19:39:43 | 74 | 54 |
[WP] It's a well known fact that Iron nullifies magic. Humans, with their iron-rich blood, are walking anti-magic. They can't use magic, but they're also immune to it.
|
"In our days, we called it blood-metal," said Sorcerer Yin.
"It's iron," said Sam.
"That's steel, it has carbon in it," Tim chimed in.
"Stainless steel," said Gary.
"It stops magic," said Sorcerer Yin. "It was bad enough when it was only in our blood, we could use magic leeches to drain it out. But once we added it to the buildings, the ships, even the very air we breathe, magic didn't stand a chance. We live in a world devoid of mystery now. After the atomic bombs were detonated, trace amounts of uranium now circle the winds, wiping out any last vestige of spiritual energy. I have only managed to retain my knowledge by draining my iron-rich blood and replacing it with the blood of the horse-shoe crab."
He raised his hand. Instead of having a tinge of red or pink under the skin, it was clear that the inside of his body was blue.
"But all is not lost," he continued. "I have heard reports that olympic athletes has begun replacing their blood with grey synthetics, greater oxygen-carrying efficiency. With no more iron in their veins, perhaps I can reach them. Not the scientists, but the athletes. Perhaps they will see me."
Sam, Tim and Gary walked through the area where Sorcerer Yin stood, not even sensing his presence.
|
"Well then if you remember that, you know better than to underestimate them." Adrien sounded annoyed again.
I nodded curtly, he was right of course my hot headedness had gotten the better of me again if I had rushed in there, now wasn't the time we were fleeing not looking for a fight, not tonight.
I watched on as the humans skirted the edge of the forest, wearily they dragged weapons and peered into the darkness threw cupped hands. So they have bad eye sight too huh, what can they actually do well.
"hm, they seem tired but they sense us, there on gaurd, we better be careful."
"How many of them do you see? I count three, two males and a female."
"I see two more females, probably more of them in the yurt tho" Adrien answered still sounding annoyed.
I moved over to the left for a better view, doing my best to keep balance and not to disturb the crisp forest floor I moved slowly, cautiously, my face low to the ground. Suddenly I caught a scent.
was that, no it couldn't be, they couldn't have! Before I could register what was happening the brush exploded.The whole forest was spinning, my head was splitting in two and I was floating, or was I falling. The light begin to fade
"adrien , run they found us"
it was barely a whisper, then the world fell dark.
| 2020-05-08T00:30:38 | 2020-05-07T18:12:20 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You have a friend who's an expert in lucid dreaming. One day, they come to you and says they can't tell apart dreams from reality anymore. You tell them that "if this were a dream, you'd be able to fly right in front of me". And that's exactly what they do.
|
Suddenly my friend flew in front of my eyes. At first I stared in awe, and a rush of thoughts came to my mind. But the strangest thing began to happen. I realized I had no way to hear them. My actions suddenly didn’t feel like my own. Once he had control of his dream he had control of who I thought I was. It’s as if my eyes were forced open. Once seemingly an eternity was now only a matter of minutes. Then was the toughest part. The world I knew was crumbling to a close. My friend drifted farther and farther away going into the next dream. My world was needed no more. My hands faded, I distinctly remember trying to grab my hair and scream. But as I went to scream I had no mouth. That’s when I looked down and saw the floor was giving way to nothing, that id had no legs anymore, and I was floating. Lost in a void in which I had no control. And there he was, my friend. A perplexed look on his face. “What’s the matter bud?” “You know I’m an expert lucid dreamer, right?” “Of course, you’d mentioned that anything you wanted to do, once you thought it, it happened.” “I’m not sure I can do it anymore....” “Bud, if this were a lucid dream right now, I’d tell you to fly right in front of me.” Suddenly he rose into the air.
|
After she flew in front of me I kind of panicked "stop" I yell "you are not dreaming". By this time I'm panicking what if I'm only a figment of his imagination? The thought that I could be nothing but a thought. Will I cease to exist if she wakes? "We have to think of this logically," I say "if you're dreaming when why do I have memories?" "Well, you can't feel if your just a dream," she says "perhaps I'm just imagining you to think you're alive" she gets an evil look on her face "what?" I look at scared now like she had evil an idea. Before i could anything she grabs me and lifts me over a cliff "please don't" I plea "don't do it" by this time she drops me waving bye-bye. I scream as I fall to my death. " I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna..." I open my eyes and see I'm in my room my wife looking at me sitting next to me on the bed eating a piece of toast off a trey with a intrigued look on her face, "bad dream again" she ask and i nod "hey I made us breakfast she motions to the tray. I look at her "you were in it this time". I just could only think what if....
| 2019-05-12T22:04:39 | 2019-05-12T21:20:59 | 61 | 12 |
[WP] Turns out being an adventurer wasn't such a good idea. In fact there may be some survivorship bias here. You only really hear about the tiny fraction of adventurers that achieve glory. In reality most of them die violent deaths, become slaves, or worse. Now you run a scared straight program.
|
People often ask me why I started this program. The answer is not some noble cause well, it is, but rather a noble cause, as in related to the nobility, not high and mighty. Because who do you think actually has this program taught to them? Nobles. Peasants don’t have programs that come to their schools because they don’t have schools. So it’s rich brats from lofty academies that have these programs. Their parents quiver at the thought that their children, which they invested so much money into in regards to education, extracurriculars, etc. would be intrigued by the prospect of throwing their life away by becoming an adventurer. I would know because I was indeed a rich brat.
The thing is, my parents were right, adventuring was dangerous. I got my left hand from a one-headed tailless chimera… fine, it was just a normal lion, but I don’t tell my audience that. I lost my tooth to Iron Maiden, no not a metallic babe but the band, I was punched in the face by the lead vocalist. I have not gained treasure, fame, or tracts of land but rather a restraining order, 5 STDs, PTSD, and 30 lbs.
But why would a noble even become an adventurer? You might ask. Ah, astute question dear reader, the answer is… student loans. Yep, wizard college, rules lawyer school, they all cost an arm and a leg, so I guess you could say they aren’t that different from adventuring (yes, I know, cheap joke, I actually do use it in my presentation, how low I’ve sunk). So, since adventurers make so much money, what better way to pay off loans than slaying monsters? Wrong.
Don’t get me wrong, there were fun moments, but the in-jokes with my friends about the gelatinous cube (the context would be too long to give) will go untold because well… all my friends are dead. Yep. Real fun. So yeah. Here I am, about to go on stage and tell a bunch of rich brats not to make the same mistake I did. Maybe I won’t be a hero to a town or a princess, but I’m a hero to Timothy’s concerned overinvolved mom, and that’s worth something. Gods, I need a drink.
|
*"What are we doing in here? It's dark and wet and smells like pooooo"*
Whined one of the youngsters, stamping his feet mid tantrum and instantly regretting it as the sewer-water splashed up to his knees.
Axel rolled his eyes as he groaned inwardly, he had been doing that a lot lately. He resigned himself to his current fate, took a deep breath and calmly explained.
*"If you want to be an adventurer, you WILL eventually end up in a sewer somewhere, chasing down a hidden blood-cult or a monster that had gone to ground."*
*"But Dwagons always hide up in the mountains"*
Axel winced at the interruption and the *deliberate* lisping of the word, his notes said the girl was an apprentice wizard; she keeps trying to be "cute" like that and she is going to turn herself into something awful.
He held up a finger to draw attention.
*"Gribbly sewer monsters first, Dragons..."*
He drew out and deliberately enunciated the word as he glared at the little girl.
*"Dragons later. Trust me, it takes years of fighting wolves and Rodents of Unusual Size; before you can even THINK of taking on a Dragon."*
He kept walking as they spoke, he was just as keen to get this over a done with; only a few more sessions and he was clear.
*"Now, if you lot have finished complaining; our target shouldnt be much further along. Do you all remember the quest briefing?"*
The children all launched into a bored monotone voice as they recited the Rote-Learned briefing.
*"We are to find and capture the infamous "Turd-Burglar" that has been prowling the sewers*
Axel nodded, turning the corner where his fellow adventurer Gordo *should* be lurking in costume.
The high-pitched squeal from the students alerted him that something was up and quickly turning to look he saw his friend - or at least, the remnants of him - splattered across the sewer walls.
As a large dark mass erupted from the muck nearby, the children fled at a sprint; screaming and crying for the nearest exit. Axel drew his sword grimly, uttering a quick prayer of peace for his friend...
And of thanks for the successful end of the program and closure of that damned poker-debt.
| 2022-04-04T00:06:33 | 2022-04-03T22:19:26 | 125 | 68 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though.
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My family deal in power and power comes in many forms.
My father's power is economic. Though he is a wanted man in most of the world his business trives. Drugs, weapons, prostitution, covered by a whole slew of perfectly respectable fronts. He is rich enough to bribe almost anyone, buy almost anything. I have often observed him and other hard men as they brokered deals. I have been in firefights as they turned sour. I have looked past the barrel of a gun, into the eyes of the killer pointing it at me, right before my father's bullet pierced his heart. I have seen the consequences of his actions. The addicts, the murders, the broken souls. He has hugged me and I have felt comforted by his presence.
My mother's power is much more direct. It's control over herself as much as over others. I have accompanied her as she stalked a target. I have been her alibi. I looked at her as she made her preparations. If have looked in the eyes of her victims as they lost consciousness, as they woke up bound, as she worked on them, as they died. Countless men, women, childrens, disapearing without a trace. I have seen the fields of shallow graves. I fell asleep in her arms, hearing her lullaby.
My little brother deals in information, he is the greatest hacker in his generation. I have often sat, behind him looking over his shoulder, fascinated as a few lines of codes stripped privacy away to reveal everyone's sordid little shames and secrets. I have watched people through a screen as they thought themselves alone.
My sister's power comes from her connections, gigantic networks supported by the favors offered to their members. I watched her, from the moment she took her first steps in control of one of dad's front business, from the moment where she wormed her way in the secret society. Accompanying her I have met many who wielded power, I have looked them in the eyes.
All the while I have learned about the body, the heart and the mind. The relationship people keep, who they are, who they think they are and what they want to appear to be.
My power doesn't reach as far, but it is far deeper. I am the one they call on, when something goes awry, when they are in trouble. I am their last resort. Because I have learned how people *work*.
Give me some information... or don't, it'll make things a bit slower but give me time, twenty minutes, an hour, maybe a day for the tougher ones and I can crack anyone. Renounce all wealth, go live as an hermit, kill themselves, kill their family. Anything is possible if you know what levers to pull, where to apply pressure. I do not need a gun, I do not need evidence. All I need is already there, ticking away in their own minds.
|
This is my first time writing this type of stuff so please bear with me. :)
Story begins:
Me: My whole Family are known for doing illegal things, heck even I admit they do those stuff.
Me: But I know you're wondering why wouldn't they want me to join in their.....well..... escapades?
Agent: Tell me why?
Me: Well...... It's because it uses up a lot of time, and you know time is money, I'm busy managing my business my passion, and my family knows that nothing gets past my pancake business.
Me: Blood may be thicker then Water but Maple syrup is even thicker then blood. Thats my Code and my family understands that, since dedication is our family's thing.
Agent: Interesting. So you would priortize your "Pancake business" over your own family. But why pancakes and do you interact or receive help or help your family?
Me: I love pancakes! Since I was a kid in the oprhanage with my younger brother and sister. Pancakes were what they served every Saturday and Sunday and it was the most delicious thing yet.
Me: But one day, after we got back to the orphanage from a little celebration somewhere, where all ophans, me and my siblings included. We saw the orphanage was destroyed, the destruction of the orphanage the recipe for the pancakes and the person who made them were all lost. The one thing that made living there worth it.
Agent: How does this relate to you not joining with your family?
Me: We're getting there.
Me: After that we were forced to live in rubbles of the orphanage, and one day my parents arrived and took me and my siblings with them.
Me: I eventually found out my Parents destroyed the orphanage since it was quite a process just to get us, and they left us there to teach us the cruelity of the world, I guess it to mold us into them.
Me: I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the lost of the pancakes and threw a tantrum until
Mother: If you love those pancakes so much why not make them.
Me: I took a liking to that idea, and exploiting the part that they felt sorry for me that the one thing I loved was lost forever. I asked them if I can set on a quest to try to remake those pancakes. A quest they all respected. So for a few years I stayed with my family grew up until I was ready. After that I set out.
Me: Before I left my parents gave me money and stuff I would need to live. After that we never saw each other again. Guess our lives were a little too busy to meet each other.
Agent: Very well. Story checks out. You may leave.
Me: Thanks! Be sure to come to my Business. Remember the name "Panned Cake" at the corner of the street near this place.
| 2017-06-04T07:31:18 | 2017-06-04T05:32:37 | 697 | 10 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu."
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Thursday, September 21, 2017 - 21:00
The General's men got straight to work. Their entire military careers, these specially trained operatives were preparing for this moment: a code R'lyeh.
One soldier was tasked with acquiring the texts to summon Cthulhu, while another went to acquire the proper objects for the sacrificial ceremony. Those left began to set up the sacrificial table as the General looked on.
Within the hour everything was prepared. The General opened the Necronomicon to the proper chapter, nodding to one of his subordinates as they began to light candles and spill the sacrificial blood onto the table. The ship was coming closer, and the lights of the anti gravitate engines light up the sky.
He began to read.
By the end of the first verse of the General's words, the ground began to shake of its own accord. In an instant the candle flickered out, and the sacrificial blood of the lamb was sucked into the ground. A roaring fire appeared over the table, in which a text began to appear amidst he flames.
The General and his soldiers blocked their eyes from the bright light and the heat. As they adjusted, they looked into the flames of Cthulhu at their last chance to save earth from the invaders.
"I'm sorry to have missed your message. I'll be out of the office until the next purported end of the world, September 23, 2017. I won't have cell reception nor access to email, so if you need me in the meantime, you can leave a message with my secretary at..."
The soldiers, dumbfounded, looked up to the General. In the distance the alien ship touched down, bringing with it a fierce wave of destruction leveling all in its path.
"Well, fuck."
|
"General, Cthulhu doesn't exist as far as we know. The aliens have already taken out most of the Justice League and the Teen Titans-" Mr. Terrific spoke into his comm suite, from orbit within the Justice League Tower, "- and we're still waiting on Diana and Arthur to get UN approval and summon their armies from Themyscira and Atlantis."
General Wade Eiling, short tempered and irate, "Terrific, you know I don't like you or your super-powered cronies up in your high tower but these aliens are a threat to all of us - including us normal non-freak humans down here. There are plans down here even you don't know about, and we would have invaded that bath-tub empire of his a *long* time ago had we not discovered King Arthur's doomsday plan."
"Doomsday plan? In Atlantis? General, you need to start making sense.." Mr. Terrific's fingers already rapidly twitching around his keyboard while dozens of screens before him start flashing images of various searches on various websites and government databases, all looking for information on Atlantean doomsday devices.
"Nobody talks about Aquaman being strong enough and durable enough to put Superman down," General Eiling's voice becoming softer, almost as if he were relishing the very thought of that Super-alien getting his ass kicked in "And we definitely don't talk about his command over every undersea creature on the planet.."
"General?"
"Where the fuck do you think Cthulhu sleeps? Get Aquaman on comms, tell that salty fish-stick to start the R'lyeh Initiative and he better impress me with what the real King of Atlantis can do."
| 2017-09-26T11:47:23 | 2017-09-26T11:17:26 | 168 | 50 |
[WP] Civilization evolved on Mars parallel to humanity with similar technology. Thanks to the radio we've spent most of the twentieth century sending messages back and forth, learning about each other like interplanetary pen pals. It is 2030 and both civilizations have agreed to meet.
Edit: I've been thinking, feel free to ignore the year specified. I imagine if we knew we had neighbors in the solar system we would try to meet them a lot quicker.
|
The two sat in silence. On the table before them were red foods from the blue planets and blue foods from the red. It hadn't been coordinated: the two leaders had wanted to play a small joke on the other, and had come up with the same joke.
When the aides had left, and the leaders had taken their seats, they had found that they couldn't think of anything causal to speak about.
"So," The delegate from Mars finally spoke up. "You're looking well, Jane." The Martian's body stiffened suddenly. "Forgive me, Madam Secretary-General."
"Oh no, please your majesty, just Jane. No need for you to stand on ceremony when it's just us."
He relaxed his body and the blank featureless "face" shifted from black to bright red; the martian version of a smile. "Well then I insist you call me by name as well. I'll not be the only one in the room being referred to by title."
The corners of the opening on the earthlings lumpy "face" speared outward and up; the human version of red-shift. "Very well, Flah'x." Then, her face DID red-shift, something the Martian King didn't know happened among humans. "It's nice to finally meet you after all these years. I don't suppose you have ever told anyone..."
"Oh, absolutely not." Flah'x's voice became deeper as he began to speak quieter, the vibration chamber in his chest contracting. "Though a few conspiracy theorists have guessed the truth."
"Same on Earth. Ironic that the only people who can figure out what's really going on are total crack-pots."
The two chuckled, an inexplicably similar sound that had evolved on both planets. A smirk began to play on her face as she gently bit her lip, and blue began to creep into his face. The Martian King reached across the table and took the UN leaders hand in his.
"Can you believe we actually did it? I have been dreaming about this moment since I was a sprout. And now we are finally here, together."
"I can hardly believe it myself. My goodness, the things I have done to get in a position where I could order this meeting..." Her face fell slightly. "But then, you live in a monarchy. I can't imagine keeping the position has been easy on you either."
"No, it certainly hasn't. But," Flah'x pulled Jane closer to himself. "Let's not worry about that now.
As the two alien faces began to come together, each of their bodies became ready according to their own biology. The Martian's body began to phase, and the bonds between the atoms weakening, allowing him to enter her entire body with his own. As she exhaled in vibration and penetration of her entire body, he exhaled in the wetness of her mouth, blood and arousal.
The two remained as one for what seemed like days. Cries of passion reverberated off the soundproof walls of the conference room, a symphony of pleasure heard by no one outside. When finally both were exhausted by the rapid succession of mutual climax, they fell to the floor and lay beside one another, she to catch her breath, and he to take in light.
The Secretary-General gasped, "My god. That was like..."
"That was like a religious experience." The Martian King finished. "I mean, the research made it clear that our two species could make but I had no idea it was supposed to be so... good."
"Ha, I bet all the humans involved in the study kept how quiet so that could have all the Martian sex for themselves."
"Now who's the conspiracy theorist?" Flah'x though a moment. "Actually it wouldn't surprise me if the Martians did the same."
Jane pulled Flah'x into her arms this time. Though his body was technically room temperature, he felt cool against her flushed skin. "So... What happens now?"
|
The blue green water of the Grand Canal was normally filled with bustling water taxis and Gondolas, but the city of Venice had all but been shut down for the Martian visit.
The Martian visitor was a curious thing. Even in its pressure suit, its trilateral symmetry was obvious. Three delicate single jointed arms stemmed from a central trunk, with three larger legs supporting it. Darkly tinted portholes surrounded the conical helmet of the Martian. The helmet’s tip came to a blunted point, just four feet above the ground. Lights found over the knee joints of the legs flashed on and off in a confusing array of patterns and colours. Even though the Martians had landed just one of its people on Earth, a huge number of very official looking humans gave it an entourage, from security personal, scientists, and even a Franciscan monk.
“Dammit, what’s it saying now?” I asked.
The United Nations had been kind enough to supply not one but six of their xenobiologists for the visit. Not one of them seemed to be able to get their Martian to English translator to work, though.
“Let me reorient this thing, get a good view of the light patches…” One of the technicians muttered, fiddling with a boxy looking camera. He pointed it towards the Martian, capturing the flashing lights.
“CANALS FUNNY. GOOD. HAPPY.” The translator’s speakers boomed, completely devoid of any human intonation and subtlety. The Martian, of course, couldn’t understand this side of the conversation. The atmosphere on Mars is far too thin to allow sound to carry, and most of the biota never evolved ears there.
The technician frowned, peering down at the translator’s display. “Careful, sir. That string is only partially correct. The infrared flashes from its back leg aren’t consistent with a positive response.”
The Martian moved along with the entourage slowly, its three legs walking in such a way that it moved both along the pathway but also rotated the creature 360 degrees with few steps. Wanting to play the concerned host, I set my own flashing rig patches to ask the creature to stop.
Humans can’t really wear flashing lights in the same way Martians do on their suits. We make do with two patches up on our shoulders, and one worn just above the belt. The Martian photo language relies on patterns of colours, with different meanings intoned by different areas flashing. We had some basic communications down more by agreement than actually understanding each others language.
My rig flashed out the sequence of the creature’s name. Us humans just called it Marvin, of course. Marvin politely stopped as I flashed it a series of agreed upon patterns. The whole set up went through a series of common problems, exactly how you might ask a grumpy three year old if she was hungry or thirsty.
Marvin flashed back the same pattern my rig had just done.
“TIRED. SORE.” The translator echoed.
I knelt down next to Marvin and smiled, patting it gently on one of its arms. Even with the thick insulation, I could feel the cold radiating off the suit. We weren’t sure if the Martians understood gestures like this, but we wanted them to see how we interact non verbally.
“As expected, sir.” One of the xenobiologists piped up. “We’ve been walking for a little over an hour. Marvin’s given it a good go, but it’s got to be difficult moving around in Earth’s gravity.
I nodded and keyed my rig to flash the sign for “go home.” The entourage picked itself up, heading back to the Martian negative pressure enclosure so that Marvin might spend it's first night on Earth in style.
| 2015-05-29T10:05:56 | 2015-05-29T09:45:35 | 191 | 39 |
[WP] It is revealed that NASA has been deliberately holding back advances in space travel for the past 50 years. Why?
|
The humans were blissfully unaware of our presence, going about their mundane, purposeless lives like ants in a mill. We had always planned to keep it that way - they were a dangerous species, but we did not kill unnecessarily.
Some humans were smart enough to comprehend the complexities of the universe, but the rest focused blindly on whatever "purpose" they wished to invent. This environment can only lead only to conflict: between the wise, and the foolish; between the powerful, and the meek; between the blind, and themselves. Altogether, the human race was too volatile to be allowed to broach the boundaries that kept them on Earth.
We were tasked with impeding their progress - diverting their attention to other technologies that would keep them anchored to this world. For a while, we succeeded. But our agents in the various research programs were discovered, killed, and hidden again. The governments of Earth hid us much better than we could ourselves - And the machine kept on.
I struggled to find a way to continue my mission. I was alone on this world, with no means to contact my people. A singular agent attempting to stop the flow of human progress would be like a child attempting to stop a tsunami with sand. While their advances thus far had been quelled, in time the humans would discover the technology needed to travel through space. They would also create weapons far more destructive than their current arsenal. Unlike those peoples of the civilized universe, humans would not hesitate to use those weapons. They would come for us.
I devised a plan that I believed to be the only course of action I could take. I gave them the weapons. I delivered them to every side of every battle. They are still a century away from developing anything that would allow them to move between the stars, but by then the humans, their planet, and I will all be gone - dust in a lifeless solar system.
|
Good morning, Doctor Chang. It's am honour to have you join us at the advance propulsion lab here at NASA. Your work in the field has been quite unprecedented. When we heard of it, we just had to have you join us.
Why, thank you. The pleasure is all ours. Now, on the first day of work for all our new staff, the first order of business... an initiation almost, haha... is to tell you about the three secrets. Take a left here. I see you've noticed it already. Yes, it is a fully functioning ion propulsion unit. We've had prototypes for about 50 years or so, but your work on the topic was simply stellar.
I know what's on your mind, of course. And that's the subject of the second secret. In the mission to the moon, we discovered the picket line. A quarantine of sorts, built by intelligences too vast for us to fathom. At an instant, we discovered that we were not alone in the universe. And, more tragically, that our childish antics were not welcome in the galactic neighbourhood. Any attempts for manned flight outwards were to be met with dire consequences.
Oh, and the third secret? That's why you're here. The information that the astronauts came back with was highly classified. For our own good, overseers were appointed to watch over our development as a species, to make sure we didn't reach further than we should. Not before we were ready, of course. The overseers are in this very facility. Can you meet them? You already have. You can't see them. They're microscopic in scale, a networked intelligence of nanomachines which you've been breathing in for the past 20 minutes. Welcome to the family.
| 2013-12-31T06:14:45 | 2013-12-31T05:23:26 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test.
|
I entered the facility, shaking of course. I'd volunteered to go first, mostly to get it over with, but I was definitely having misgivings. The proctors had assured us that studying was not required, but now that I thought about it they had also said that about the ACT.
It was far too late now though. I continued walking through a narrow hallway until a pair of guards moved to pick me up. Vaguely, I wondered how the guards worked. Were they exempt from testing? Or just very devoted?
After a brief, quick time frogmarch I was deposited in a dark room with a single man before me. Surprisingly, I was calm now. I even smiled slightly. Whatever happened, I was ready to face my fate.
The proctor glanced at me. "Congratulations!" he shouted, smiling broadly. "You pass!"
"What?"
"I said you passed! Congratulations!"
I was slightly nonplussed. "But what about the test?" I spluttered. "How do you know I'll pass?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh you already passed. We're just gonna let the first ten percent through and kill the rest."
"But why?"
"Well we figure that the first guys through will really have their shit together. Plus late people are annoying. It just made sense."
"Well okay then." I walked out whistling. Late people *are* annoying.
|
Ninety percent.
I walked into the room with a feeling of rough harm, a strange notion. The white room, filled with the sterile smell of a hospital took a moment to recognise. I was only in here the other day getting a diagnosis for my strep throat. Such a coincidence that I should be here again so soon. A voice churned from above, one of mechanics and turning gears.
*Please be seated.*
There was no use in fretting over the test itself. It was a lottery, pre-ordained by our emperor and saviour. Sitting in the chair, I heard a *click* from the entrance. A machine whirred, the air vents moaned with a strange smooth tick.
*Test initiated*.
A small robotic arm popped out from the wall.
*Please hold still for the serum to be injected. This will determine your candidacy for the lottery.*
Ninety percent. I was thirty five, single with no future in sight. I sighed a breathe of defeat. Resigned to a call center, managing a group of adolescents attempt to earn a minimum wage, my survival depended on my being useful to society.
I barely felt the needle. The effects were immediate.
A wave of euphoria, a hint of rose as my vision darkened. The only thing I could remember was the number.
Ninety.
| 2016-06-11T10:22:36 | 2016-06-11T10:21:07 | 588 | 41 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work.
|
This was taking forever. And I wasn't even sure I wanted to do it.
As I leaned against the railing, I wondered what I would say when she opened the door. If she opened the door. Gosh, this is weird. A superhero with superspeed? Late?
Maybe she was just as nervous as I am. After all, she thinks this is just some blind date. She doesn't know I'm a supervillain and her worst enemy. She'll probably think it was a trap. We might even have a duel right here and now. Why am I even doing this? I'm so desperate.
Again, I pressed the doorbell. Again, there was no response.
Maybe she forgot and she went somewhere? But then again, she would have remembered, and then, ya know, superspeed. But I haven't seen anyone running either to the house or from the house.
Maybe she looked outside, saw it was me, and just hid inside.
Maybe-
Wait. I leaned in closer to the door. With my superpowered ears, I heard someone running down the stairs. They're at the back of the house, and now coming closer to the door. I bounced on my toes. Could it be...?
The door opened and I came face to face with Raven Salmassi, otherwise known as Bolt.
Her head was down and she was fumbling with her purse. "Sorry, I know I'm late, but there was just some trouble with-" she glanced up and gasped.
"You-"
"Hi, Raven," I said sheepishly.
Shock turned to anger. "You tricked me!" Raven shoved a hand in her belt and took out the forcefield generator. My heart sank. Not that thing again. Apparently, the superheroes decided that handcuffs just wouldn't cut it, and every single one of them was equipped with a *forcefield generator*. How extra are superheroes? But they work. They somehow don't let you breathe but you're still alive. It's the worst feeling in the world. Thank god I escaped the supervillain prison, or else that thing would have gotten me stuck there forever.
"Wait, wait!" I held my hands up. "Let me explain. Since you so kindly tend to interrupt my dates, I thought that the only way to ever have a successful date without you barging in is to have the date with..." I gave a dramatic bow. "You."
She stared at me. "That is... the dumbest idea I've ever heard. You're so desperate. It kind of makes me feel bad for you." She reached back into her belt and took out the plain old handcuffs. Fine. I can live with that.
She closed them around my hands and dragged me along. "Let's go, Ultra-Ear."
|
i smiled, looking at the woman across from me on the picnic blanket. she had brown hair, brown chocolate eyes, and a few freckles on her cheek. A normal girl by all standards, and she was perfect. especially for a shape shifting super villian in need of a little bit of normal. i was in a half snake half human form, she told me it's very attractive to her, and i had my tail wrap around her legs. i drew her close, chest to chest, eye to eye. "i wish we could rent a room somewhere" i say quietly, "well," she replied, "i figured dating a super villain would come with a price, still chose you didn't i?" we leaned in, my coils tightened as our lips brushed. "HALT, VILLAIN. RELEASE THE GIRL!" a loud baritone voice shouts, i give a groan. "Not today, Captain Ass" I glare at him," "that's Captain Glass," the man corrects, wearing a bright blue spandex suit he walks forward. "nice one," she snickers. "i'm on a date Captain, she's here of her own volition," i hand him a signed legal document i had us both sign for this occasion. he reads it and throws it aside, "a signature acquired through intimidation is not legally binding. "you have got to be kidding me." i groan, "you said that would work" she mumbled, "i seemed to have over estimated his intelligence," i grumble, i lean in and kiss her on the lips. "i have a plan, just play along." she nods. "Enough, you will let this woman go or i will stop you by force," i release her and she stands up, runs to him. "oh thank god." she says wrapping her arms around him, he smirks "i knew it, you can't fool" she stabs him with a syringe. "argh! what the," "thank god, i was hoping to fuck with an uptight hero." she laughs, like honey. i slither up to Captain Glass "don't worry you won't die, yet." i pick him up. "i want you to watch as i give this gal the time of her life." i carry the hero over one shoulder, wrapping an arm around the young girl, "come Sarah, won't you join me in my lair?" her eyes widen, "after two months? hell yes" she hugs me tight, i laugh as we make our way to my home. 'that was easy.' i smile.
​
​
oof not my best work
| 2019-02-23T06:49:09 | 2019-02-23T04:40:49 | 113 | 70 |
[WP]. The purge except it's 24 hours that retail workers can talk back to the customers and managers
|
"I've just got a few over ten items, if that's alright?"
"No. It's actually not alright, as that person behind you actually made a fucking effort and I don't see why he should be forced to wait because you can't fucking count to ten." I snap back, enjoying the shocked look on the customer's face. Someone forgot what day it was, I expect. I give the customer behind her a nod, indicating that he should move his stuff up.
From behind me, I can vaguely hear Katie (the self-service girl) and Marie (checkouts manager) get into a blistering row about next week's rota, both in their incessantly Scouse accents. Apparently Marie gave Katie three extra hours on Tuesday, which she can't do because she's got to pick her kids up from school.
I can also hear Claire's snarl of 'if you stab me with those nails again, I'll cut them off' and Fiona's battle cry of 'no, of course it's not fucking free if we can't scan it, are you fucking stupid?' from two of the nearby tills.
I smile at the next customer, and continue my shift.
Life is good.
|
"Oh you can fuck right off, you crazy bitch." The once screaming customer stopped and stared in shock. "I'll have to talk to your manager about this." "Oh, like that lazy cunt will do anything about it."
Honestly, today was just one big justice boner for me.
I've told about five insane customers to go fuck themselves, and they deserved it. My manager has told me to reason with the crazy people despite the Retail Purge going on, but I just told her to fuck off too.
They can't do anything about it, because firing me for anything I did today is illegal. This is making me so happy.
"I've never seen this level of disrespect towards a paying customer in all my life!" She exclaimed, but I just shrugged. "Maybe if you weren't such a cunt to the retail workers you wouldn't get disrespected." I said nonchalantly, feeling the warm feeling of payback bubbling up inside me.
Like I said, this day is just one big justice boner for me.
| 2017-06-17T17:36:58 | 2017-06-17T12:32:30 | 315 | 99 |
[WP] Whenever you saw a dead animal in the road, you'd say a little prayer and send them to Heaven. Upon your death, you arrive in Heaven and are immediately swarmed with 1000's of various critters delighted to see you. You hear a booming voice cry out with irritation, "This is YOUR fault."
|
God was pissed. There wasn’t any other way to put it. Apparently, they had only accounted for so many animal souls before I got to Earth, and I had gone and fucked that number up pretty royally.
“All your fault,” they repeated.
I shrugged. “Look, YOU crowded up my world with a bunch of people. Cruel, selfish humans who litter and drive 40 mph in the carpool lane. People who order ridiculously pretentious coffee drinks and people who would rather see profit than progress. At least I sent you cute animals!”
“Cute!? Do you see that thing over there?” He pointed over to a grey, shelled creature. I quickly identified it as an armadillo, and I scooped it up to give it a snuggle. “He’s adorable,” I say. “You should see what you gave me to work with. Wait, you did see. You’re God. How the fuck are we even going to compare what I sent you vs what you sent me? It’s an easy win for me!” The armadillo uncurled at that precise moment, and returned the snuggle. “See?” I said. “Fucking adorable.”
God looked at me, frowned, and said, “You always did swear too much, you know.” I shrugged again. “Yea, I know, but I’m fucking adorable, too. Now, where’s my room?”
|
"God?" you say.
"No," the voice boomed, "a Chinese-Mexican fusion vegetarian taco, who do you think?"
"What's the problem here?" you say, looking around. You are surrounded by bounding kangaroos, the occasional wombat, more than a few bushtail possums, sleepy koalas, a few snakes, and an overwhelming mass of colourful birds. Somehow, they all appear to be grinning at you in an eerie sort of way.
"The problem?" the voice boomed. "These creatures were *supposed* to be roasted in fire for a good eternity, then served on heavenly tables. The invention of automobiles has been the best innovation in otherworldly cuisine since the advent of the stone-tipped spear, or maybe deforestation, as a close second."
"You eat *meat* here?" you say, filled to brimming with veganly horror.
"Sure," said the booming voice, "if it's stupid enough to get itself killed accidentally, what's the harm in a little taste now and again?"
"It's quite frankly immoral," you say, "how is stupidity a sin?"
"It isn't," God said, "it's usually a favourable attribute when one is considered for the golden gates, but do animal lives really weigh the same?"
"Wow," you say, looking around again, "just wow."
| 2019-09-02T23:11:39 | 2019-09-02T21:11:06 | 330 | 29 |
[WP] A young girl has two monsters in her life: her step-father, and the one under her bed. She manages to befriend the latter to deal with the former.
|
It was quiet in the house like it always was. Quiet enough for her laughter to carry through the house and wake him up. His eyes shot open and glared, bloodshot under a heavy brow.
"Son...of...a...bitch..." He muttered vehemently, his fingers clenching the blanket tight.
"Huh? Whuzzat?" Her mother groggily muttered in her whiskey clouded sleep.
"Your damn kid woke me up, again!" He growled throwing back the covers. "Goddammit I haven't been asleep two hours and I have to be at work early tomorrow."
Standing up with a scowl he looks at her mother still in bed. "You should get your ass up like I have to day in and day out with no sleep to provide for this family. See how you like it for a change."
Her mother makes no move, the alcohol has worked it magic. She is beyond her unhappiness, at least until morning comes.
"I'll just have to fix this, just like I have to fix everything." Fists clenched he strides to her child's room. Opening the door he sees her sitting on the floor with her toys. She is quiet now, looking up at him. Of course, now she's quiet. She's quiet just like her mother gets quiet. They both know when they've crossed the line. And he is getting so tired of reminding them of that line. Time and time again.
He grimaces as the rage clouds his mind. She isn't crying. She isn't trying to get away. This infuriates him. She doesn't remember any of the lessons, he thinks. Well, by god, I'll give her a lesson she'll never forget this time.
He approaches raising a fist to his side when something happens to send a splinter of unease through the haze. She smiles. She isn't looking at him with her usual respect. The respect he has drilled into them both. She is looking over his shoulder and smiling in joy. Pure, unfettered joy.
"Now Max." She says in her innocent lilting voice. "You can play."
A fetid breath rolls across his neck and he turns.
"Oh....my.....God...." He mutters as he feels warm piss running down his leg.
"No." Answers a dark voice, "Not quite."
|
Her face was glistening with tears, sweat, rain and fear.
“You know the drill, kiddo” He hissed. His breath engulfed her face like a mask of liquor. He was repulsive in every way. Shame washed over her in waves as she tried to cover her naked body with the ripped pieces of shirt and pants. *Those were my favorite pants*, she thought. Such a silly thought.
“And don’t you ever try to fucking run away from me” The cold slap of his hand and words brought her back to reality.
“Go to your room” She didn't need to be told twice.
*He's no monster*, she chanted in her mind. *I need him, and he needs me.*
She locked the door keeping the other monster at bay. He couldn't reach her here, he'd tried before but never succeeded.
*He* had helped her, even though he frightened her, he had shown her something the other monster outside her door had never; humanity.
"I'm ready" As soon as the words escaped her lips, the creature emerged from under her bed. A shapeless dark form spread across her room like water reaching every corner except her. Everything around her was made of intense light.
"You ran" The form whispered. Its voice was everywhere.
"I did. He did it again, just like you said he would"
"I'm sorry"
"Are you?" She challenged. Her eyes filling with tears breaking little by little her resolve.
"Deeply, now child, are you ready?" The form slowly retreated to the center of her room mimicking her stance. She wasn't ready, she never would be.
"I am. Just swear to me one more time that I won't die"
"I swear" And with this, the dark form entered her body.
It felt like years, decades, centuries, even millenniums of burning pain, but when he abandoned her body, not a minute had passed.
When she opened her eyes, the form was no longer a form, but a man. The man she hated, the man she was willing to kill at such tender age.
"You can stay here. When you see me again it'll be over" And when he spoke, it had his voice but not his anger or hate. She saw humanity.
She nodded agreeing with him. It was done, all she had to was wait.
No more running. No more fear.
| 2015-01-23T11:04:32 | 2015-01-23T10:06:50 | 96 | 13 |
[WP] As a joke/Tic, an atheist always thanks the Dark Lord when good things happen. When they die, they are shocked to find out that The Dark Lord is real, and they are his favorite follower, as they never, ever asked for anything.
The Dark Lord's favor could be pleasant, or ironic, or mundane. Or maybe it's a Dark Lady, who knows?
|
"You should sit. We have walked far."
Through some window my eyes were not privy to, some impossible breach in the air, he entered his arms and withdrew two bone-white stools. He offered one into my outstretched hand, and I felt - reassuringly - a smooth, dry wood. I knew I was in Hell, or some equally unfathomable realm, but it lacked the fires and suffering heralded by the holy books. It did seem a little mournful, perhaps.
"Are you uncomfortable with your surroundings?"
When the man spoke, it was as though in tandem with another. His voice was a pleasant baritone, but layered over undertones of deep bass. Every word seemed simultaneously a dry, scholastic tone and a playful sing-song. It was mystifying, but though I felt I should have found it frightening, it actually seemed calming to me. The appearance of the man was almost as pleasing and strange as his voice - a medium height and build (though, bareshirted as he was, I could see his picturesque muscle tone) and dark-skinned as the men of the middle-east, or perhaps of India. I knew I was in the company of Satan, and I did not speak.
Actually, as an atheist, I wasn't really sure of the etiquette when it came to conversation with such beings. It didn't seem to matter too much - he could read a man like a book from his body language, his countenance, even his eyes alone - and he seemed more than happy to speak.
"Michael, we are acquainted. In fact, I am quite pleased to have you in my company. Your voice has been some slight reassurance to me in this... pit. You were not faithful, and had little academic knowledge of realms beyond your own anyway, but in case you have any preconceived notions... I will inform you about your afterlife.
"This is Hell. When a human dies, it has a spirit which (usually) goes to Heaven. Our Father is patient and forgiving with human mistakes. Humans tend not to have much recognition of the incredible multitude of factors at play in the sculpting of their lives, but their free will tends to be guided by those... well, in short, when someone makes a mistake any momentary ill-will is often eventually passed on to others. Through that subtle guidance, the way they react to situations sometimes deviates from their nature...
"All humans are inherently good. That waterfall of mistakes is the embodiment of the original sin. In fact, you are the only human in Hell.
"The road we are walking leads to the gates."
The gates of Hell? The gates of Heaven?
"Time is not analogous to that of the human realm, here. Ever since I was cast out, I have heard your voice - once every hundred, or thousand years. I once heard your voice twice in a day. Once, it was twenty thousand and four hundred years between. I always heard your gratitude to me."
I always thanked the Dark Lord after something good happened. Not seriously. It was a joke when I started in my teenage years, but soon it became a philosophical exercise. The activity of thanking someone recognises that something good happened, and that made me happier. It felt like a lot of good things happened to me, in my life. Satan began to openly weep.
"Michael, to me, you are the most important human since the Son of our Father. He was human too, you know. He was the Son of the Father but he was human too. He started a movement. A movement of goodness. An absolvement for the sins of the humans.
"Your gratitude to me, I was not so narcissistic to enjoy it in vanity. Your gratitude is symbolic. You too, like the Son, pushed the humans a little bit further towards their own goodness. Actually, you were the tipping point. To me, it has happened, but to you, it is one day in the future - one day, when all humans are good to each other. One day, when all humans are true to their nature. One day, when all humans become one with our Father."
Where are we going, Satan? What gate are you taking me to? I asked in my head. The tears streaming down his face seemed to catch an odd light, and I swore for one second - at a strange angle - I saw myself, my lips moving, posing the question. This realm is beyond my perception.
"Michael... you are taking me home."
|
Wait, what? Am I dead?
I looked around, blinking into the bright light. My eyes adjusted and I glanced around. A huge limestone sepulcher stood in front of me (a monument to something or someone, though the details and carvings were indecipherable to me), with steps crudely hewn into either side leading upward no doubt to some apex that was currently obscured by the blinding light. A modest black opening, pitifully off centre in the stone gave the whole affair a sort of slip-shod effect, negating any awesome impression the mason might have intended with such massive stonework.
"Ah, *finally!*"
I hadn't seen or heard anyone since I realized I was standing here, and I was startled by the sound. My glance darted around the room. Seeing no one, I peered into the inky opening in the tomb. Staccato footsteps scratch on the stone above me, and the voice manifests again.
"It's been an *eternity* waiting for you to arrive!"
Looking up, I see a graying figure who seems to skip down the steps with glee as my bewildered gaze tracks him to his resting place, a few paces from me.
"I'm sorry about the light! The bulbs are out, they'll change them soon!" He smiles warmly. His voice almost croons, "I must say! I half expected you to call. Right there at the end, thought you might try to cash in a chip. But you took it on the jaw. I really must shake your hand!" He stepped forward into the light and extended his hand. I squinted to get a better look. He had on a shabby though well fitted suit (it had seen better days), and a pocket watch chain swinging from his waistcoat suggested he might be a rather old-fashioned type of fellow. Sizing him up, I extended my hand.
'Just what is this place?' I asked with a frown. 'Who are you?'
The man's face fell.
"This is Abaddon! You're my guest. I'm the Dark Lord of the underworld! ...you really don't know who I am?"
I chortled, but at his stern reaction, I quickly made a pretense at clearing my throat.
'Should I have recognized you? We've never met before,' I stated simply.
"You were my favorite. *Are* my favorite. Never asked for a thing." He seemed to be holding back tears, trying to avoid exposing his hurt pride. "I thought you were just grateful." He sniffed.
'Look here mister,' I interjected. 'I don't know what this Dark Lord business is-'
"But you gave thanks all the time!" he interrupted. I jammed my hands into my pockets. I realize I'm wearing my favorite outfit. I hadn't had this on before.
'What's this?' I asked.
"I just... wanted you to be comfortable."
'Well, it's freakin' weird and definitely *uncomfortable* talking to someone who refers to themselves as the Dark Lord, not to mention I have no idea how I got here. I didn't ask to be here. I don't even believe in any of this.' I shrugged.
"I... I, look. See here now, I just wanted to give you something. Anything. Just as a thank you. I'm the one you've been thanking your whole life. I just wanted to do something nice." He looks down at the ground. I felt sorry for him. But this was bullshit. There's not supposed to be an afterlife!
'I made my peace, I was fine with dying. I had a perfectly reasonable life.'
"I just thought..."
'No! You know what?! This is ridiculous! There's no God, there's no hell, or Abbadon or whatever the crap this is. I was dead, dammit. Why won't you let me die? I was *ready!* I fucking had to accept I was going to die. And this is what the afterlife is? Some friendless, pathetic loser who didn't even realize I DIDN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IN ANY FUCKING DARK LORD? God, just kill me. This is the worst!'
His eyes narrow. "Fuck you," he said quietly.
*NOW* I'm dead.
| 2015-08-17T01:18:49 | 2015-08-16T22:52:23 | 1,022 | 11 |
[FF] 100 Words or Less - The parachute isn't opening up
|
My first time parachuting. Not Jason’s. He's shouting his head off like the idiot he is while I'm nervously wondering the whole time if this will actually work.
Why the hell did I marry him? *Of course* an adrenaline junkie like that can't keep it in his pants. And then the anger…I’m afraid for my life sometimes. What if he just didn’t want me around anymore?
Stop thinking like that. It's time. Steady out. Pull the cord. Wait for the tug. The chute's not opening!
Good, it worked. I pull my own cord as Jason hurtles towards the ground.
|
Jason was a veteran now. Over one thousand jumps, every one going off without a hitch. Today he hadn’t packed his own chute. He had been late and Tony had done it for him. He skipped his usual ritual and just jumped on the plane, flinging the lethal parachute over his shoulder. The ground is approaching now, but it’s impossible to tell how long until impact.
*How do I tell this poor fucker strapped to me..* he thought as they plummeted to their deaths, *I hope Tony sees and lands his girlfriend somewhere else.*
| 2014-05-15T12:53:38 | 2014-05-15T12:45:24 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water...
|
24 years in the business and The Steel Cricket retired. All you knew was that he ran into a villain he couldn't afford to hold back on and as a result the villain died. It was the first time he had ever killed someone and it wasn't something he talked about. Not even to you, his son.
Powers are hereditary. At least if your parent was a super you have a better chance of getting chosen. That's right, chosen. Nobody knows why but two people with the same power have never existed at the same time. That's why when your Dad retired his old team took you in even though you didn't have powers, they were hoping to scoop up the next Steel Cricket before their power had even manifested.
At first it wasn't so bad. You felt like part of the team. Were actually happy to be there. As the son of a superhero you grew up with capes so you knew the drill. You participated in meetings, had full access to the teams database, even gave them advice mid mission. You were a regular Thundering Whisper only without their powers. If things had stayed like that you would have been happy, but you developed your power.
To heat water...
The supers didn't know what to do with you. After a few months the main team more or less ignored you now. A subtle nod when you enter the room is the most you're acknowledged. The younger team though. They called you a junior junior hero. Eventually you found yourself doing chores for them. Odd jobs, cleaning their laundry, taking over their jobs in the HQ and worst of all making them tea. At least you can avoid them while cleaning the archive room but when you have to serve them, well there's no escape.
You could have asked your Dad for advice but couldn't bring yourself to. Everyone has something they don't want to talk about. After all your Dad never talked about his last mission. Besides you were spending every spare minute you looking for where your power came from; obsessed seeing what became of your predecessor.
Search, serve, search, sleep. Search, serve, search, sleep. The junior squad leaves you alone for the most part now. As long as their snacks are ready when they get back.
One day Switcher stops you in a hallway. He tells you that they found who got your Dad's power and your needed even less now. It only motivates you more. Search, serve, search, search.
It has been four days since The mew Steel Cricket arrived. You wondered if she was going to keep the name. Not a name for a girl. Not a name for anyone really. She's already going on lower danger missions with the junior squad. You feel like you haven't left the HQ in months.
Search, search, search search.
You wake up in the archive. There's a blanket wrapped around you. You panic and look around the room it's empty but whoever tucked you in left a binder out. You go to put the binder back when a page catches your eye.
The Steamstress
Power: Heating water
There's sparse details. She worked for a small time hero outfit. Doing pretty much the same stuff you do. Only she was there for years. Then one day without reason she snapped. The heroes she worked were found dead, dried up husks and she went on a crime spree. If she was confronted by a normal person she would weaken them until they fainted. Sometimes there was lasting damage but more often they had a complete recovery. Supers on the other hand ended up being boiled alive without fail. The report goes on to list her victims but ends abruptly like a page was missing.
You had heard things used to be worse for people like you. How long could you last in those conditions? Hell how long can you last in your situation? It wasn't the Steamstress's fault just like it isn't your fault. It's the worlds fault and you weren't going to let it break you. You were going to move first, you were going to be smarter than your predecessor. You weren't going to be caught and even if you were even the strongest heroes are still 70% water.
You hear the door of the archive open and slam the binder shut. That's when you notice the Steamstress was a footnote in your Dad's file. The last footnote.
"Hey. I've been waiting to meet you. You must been Steel Cricket's son." You don't recognize the feminine voice but it must be the girl who got your Dad's powers.
You laugh awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've been pretty busy." Thankfully she wasn't a female version of your Dad like you'd imagined though for some reason you found being with her unsettling.
"No kidding the guys always say this place would fall apart without you." Noticing your look of disbelief she continued, "What, they really do."
Before you realize it she has your hand and she's pulling you towards the kitchen. "You know Misty Fox always goes on about how good your cookies are. Everyone wishes you'd use less raisins and more chocolate chips though. I'm more interested in your tea. I'm warning you though I have very high standards."
You kick her out of the kitchen and make the tea. You went all out with this pot after all it's going to be the last one you ever make. After pouring her cup you walk away and look out a window. You have plans to make, cities to conquer, soon the whole world will tremble at the mention of... Whatever you go by.
Your internal monologue is interrupted by sniffling and you turn to see the girl looking at you with tears. "I'm sorry," she said while wiping at her eyes. "I never thought I'd be able to drink tea like my Mom made ever again."
|
As I make tea for those scumbags, I start to think of different plans. While waiting for the tea to boil my plans are narrowed to two. They both boiled down to one concept. Boiling them all alive. When finished, I bring the tea down to them all. Being as agitated as I was, I had plopped it down and sat away from them. As I sit there, I think of which plan to do. *Should I combine the plans?* I think to myself.
"Hey, boiling woman!" I hear from one of them. "Get us more tea!"
"Why don't ya do it yerself," I ask, obviously annoyed. I have a strong Irish accent and appearance.
"You're the tea girl! Go do it!" Another adds.
I roll my eyes as I get up and strut out of hangout. I don't go get tea, though, I gather my things and walk out of the door. I walk for around ten minutes before I bump into a villain. *Perfect*, I think to myself with a smile. They were lugging around some type of bag, most likely money to buy things for their mechanic, North. North is a small, brown-haired girl. She's fairly young for a villain, she's only sixteen. Desperate to talk, I follow behind him. I needed to join them, it would be the only reasonable option to get my way.
When he stops at the door, the gang is there to make sure he got everything or if he needed help. The others notice me and ask me a few questions as to why I followed their buddy home. I explain how I work for the superheroes and that I can join them and give them as much information as they need to best those guys. After a few minutes of discussing, they agree to let me join for time being, but it was mostly because they need more info on their enemies.
They sit me down to talk about what I do, as they couldn't just have me doing nothing. I said that I boil water, but I can still be of help, even if it seems like a useless power. I talk about my little plan with them.
"So...You have a 'plan'? What is it, exactly?"
"Well, to start, humans are made up of seventy percent water, correct? Well, if I can boil water, and humans have water in 'em, I can boil those bastards alive."
As I end the sentence, I look around at them. They all seem so intrigued at that idea. Maybe this is my chance to prove myself to somebody important to me and not just be thrown away as 'tea girl.'
"Hm...Give us a minute to discuss, will you?"
"Absolutely. Take all the time you need to decide. I will be waiting here for your decision."
I sit still and examine the table I sit at as they talk. It seems to be covered in cigarette ash and food stains. *Whatever,* I think, *they aren't that bad so far. At least they aren't treating me like some type of slave that those other guys did. I swear I could get PTSD from them.*
"Hey!" I hear. I look up. It's North. "You're in. I'm North. What do we call you?"
Ah...A question I haven't heard in years. What did I use to call myself? Annette? That was it, yes.
"Call me Annette."
"Alright. Welcome aboard, Annette. Our attack is tomorrow, we'll be visiting you in your room here quite a lot tonight, so be ready."
"Gotcha, North. Where is my room anyway?"
"Right over there." She points to a shiny door. "You share a room with me, so expect to hear some metal clinks."
"Alright. See you in there."
I walk inside the room to relax for the time I get. About five minutes pass and they come in, asking all sorts of questions about the guys. I answer to the best of my ability, and when they have enough information to evade, they leave, letting me sleep. After a few minutes of think, I pass out.
I wake up in the morning to a knocking at the door. North and I open the door, getting ready to leave. I get to lead something for once in my life, so I'm very excited about this mission. Once everyone has everything prepared, we head out. We get to where the heroes are within five minutes and they spot me.
"Hah! YOU'RE fighting US?" I hear one of them blurt out. "This'll be easy, boiler girl."
"That's what you guys think," I say as I stare them down. Soon enough, they're coming for me. Before they can even touch me, I boil one. He starts to break down and everyone freaks out. Water and blood burst out of him, splattering everything. I stand there with a straight face, staring the rest down. I go up to the nearest one and poke near his intestines where his water is stored. He dies the same, painful way. I get the others before they can even try to get away from me. I've had enough of them, and I finally have a team like myself. I've waited to this for almost half my life, even if I'm 25. I ignorantly joined them when I was almost 15, thinking I would help them so much.
I'm finally done. I've gotten my way. I've my team.
I've got ***myself.***
| 2019-07-30T17:02:42 | 2019-07-30T16:02:12 | 101 | 13 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come. But so has the robot apocalypse, and the Illuminati takeover, and the alien invaders... It seems everyone played their hand at the same time.
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"Why are we holding off on the invasion, Prime Minister?" his aide inquired, turning to face the dark locked man sitting regally in his chair set at the head of the long table. His fingers were steepled together before him, casting shadows against his handsome visage.
"Because we have the advantage by not *pressing* our advantage," he murmured quietly to the room that didn't exist, full of generals and spies.
The news had begun to trickle in, first of the robots creating, *creating* an emissary to demand rights, and it had been as their first self-created life lumbered up to the Whitehouse that an alien spaceship had come to hover over the capital building, as well as the capitals of major centres around the globe.
CNN flashed across one screen, followed by BBC on another. They watched as the world fell to panic, as the first report of the dead rising in morgues, shambling into the streets already made into a frothy, chaotic mess from the robots and the aliens filling the streets.
"---coming in that the aliens are demanding that we surrender peacefully, however according to some reports the Sentient Robot Group then broke into the broadcast and requested a chance to parlay with the government in regards to…” the young CNN reporter rushed through the notes she held, while standing before the gates of the White House, the camera far enough back so that it could capture the view of the hovering UFO, while a line of robots had gathered in a clutch at the gate, their hands gesturing to make up for their lack of facial mobility and expression.
A scream cut through the scene, as a body lurched up from the dirt behind the gate, on the lawn of the White House. The security at the gate diverted and headed for the body, guns drawn and yelling. Soon the reporter was drowned out by the report of gunfire, screaming, and the scene began to shake as the person behind the lens picked up the camera and raced to the gate to capture the scene.
It was cacophony for a few seconds, and it was as the gray matter sprayed through the air that the scene cut back to Wolf Blitzer’s serious face, moustache trembling briefly before he opened his mouth to recap the events of the day.
The Lieutenant-General reached for the remote and muted it, they all knew what the recap would explain, and as one heads swiveled back to the leader of their glorious nation. He was calm, collected, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“It’s been reported to me by back channels, ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke after a second, his eyes flitting from one tense face to another, “that as we speak the Illuminati have called in their own favours in the White House, in Buckingham and Downing Street, and in other major capitals.”
“What does that even mean?” one voice asked, near breathless at the end of the table amidst the gasps that peppered the room.
He stood up, and loomed over the desk, his hands coming to rest lightly on the tabletop. “Look, this isn’t a surprise. We’re in a position to watch this all unfold, to bolster our defenses, prepare our people and then move in once everyone is weakened.”
Justin stepped away from the table, circling the perimeter to pause at the picture of his father. He looked up at the noble visage, the red flower seemed to glow near ominous in the lapel. A promise of blood, always at the heart. He turned to the room.
“We’ve allowed the world to underestimate Canada’s potential. And so we’ve been left behind. The robots have calculated us as being benign even, and the aliens don’t find our resources worthy of attention. We may get some push back from a few countries; Greenland, New Zealand, but they don’t have access to the resources that we do. Resources we’ll be able to claim as our own once that…” he turns to point at the television, showing a chaotic scene on the streets of New York City, cutting then to scenes in England, Russia, Germany.
“It is time the world knows the true meaning of the TRUE North, Strong, Free and Underestimated for too long!” He raised his hand up, fingers spreading in the air, representing the glorious maple leaf on their flag.
-30-
|
After running for his life from the undead hordes....who oddly ignore Rigor mortise and sprint. Dave ended up in an old pharmacy, clearly not heading out any time soon. Dave starts looting about seeing if he can find anything useful.
"The place seems safe"
Dave says to himself as he happens upon a chocolate bar on the counter. Dave loved chocolate, as his overweight physique accurately depicted.
After a short time, Dave stumbled upon a note on the ground next to what seems to be a makeshift bed made out of some old clothes. It seems Dave was not the first to take refuge here.
Dave proceeds to read the note although Dave never really enjoyed reading, his teachers always seemed to make him read aloud in class and the other kids would laugh, Dave had a funny voice, and he was.quite certain the teachers thought it was funny too. Anyhow, moving on. Dave begins to read the letter.
"As I sit here held up in what seems to be an old pharmacy, already looted, already emptied. With the amount of work and desperation it took for me to get this far....only a couple blocks. I am exhausted, and afraid.
As I listen to the sound of the dead outside these doors, as I listen to the modern zeplins flying about playing repeat messages of obedience and instruction. As I hear the explosions from what I am assuming are from the invaders.....Who would have thought that they were in cahoots with the governments the whole time.
I take it all into account. I think of the likelihood of my survival, I think of my friends and family....I watched a house fall on my brother. I watched a zombie get my wife. I can only assume my parents are gone aswel.
One bullet left, just one left.
As I sit here in this abandoned pharmacy. I contemplate my future. How far will I make it? Should I just end it? Should I continue?
I always fantasized about a zombie apocalypse, but the fact that they can sprint full tilt fucking sucks. I always fantasized Aliens were real, sucks they're hostile as well. I'm pretty sure they caused the zombie outbreak. Wouldn't be surprised.
I'm going to try my luck. If you're reading my rambling. Just know that I didn't give up!!!"
Dave is taken back by this and was surprised to see that the mystery letter depicted such hope in an otherwise terrible situation. Dave relaxes in the makeshift bed assuming all is well. Not noticing that there was more written on the other side.
Dave awakens to having his face mauled by a zombie. Terrible way to go, but Dave was truthfully not well liked anyway. As he fights off the zombie with a swift hit to the head, he finishes it off with a hard blow to the skull. Knowing his fate is sealed he notices the unread part the letter sitting on the floor. He begins to read
"Yeah....I got 25 feet from this place before being bitten by one of those freaks...I wasted my last bullet, and I missed! I fucking missed.
If you find this letter before you find me. Please search this place well. I will be in the back office, but the lock is broken, so I can't lock myself in. Please know that by then I will have changed, I will be a threat.
I'm sorry"
Dave puts down the letter laughs at his own ignorance. Bleeding from his face Dave decides to take out his notepad and do the same as the man before him. But sadly Dave was never much of a writer either. If you must know, Dave never finished school. Thought that working instead of furthering education would pay off. Sadly it was not the case for Dave. His letter read
"I gOt biT. In OffiCe"
"Good enough" Dave said as he stumbled to the back office.
Dave....certainly not meant for great things.
I haven't wrote anything for a decade, I'm also on mobile so forgive any errors.... If you got this far thanks for reading about Dave.
| 2017-12-28T17:11:19 | 2017-12-28T16:03:53 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water...
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It didn't start this way, and I certainly didn't want it to end this way. In the beginning, I was excited for the opportunity. Who wouldn't be estatic to be around their heroes? I thought my dreams had come true - it was a path to my destiny, but ultimately the Crusaders' nightmare.
I showed signs around the normal timeframe. Once a month from 2nd to 10th grade, our teachers would send our class to the gym. Sciolios check, SUP test, eyes checked, the stuff every kid goes through. I've heard of some kids exceeding on a SUP test past 10th grade, but they typically have little power. You know, the guy who says he can control electricity and flickers the lights for the ladies, but she finds out that's max strength the next morning and bounces.
I exceeded on my test in 8th grade, and my parents bought a house 5x the size not a week later. No pressure, am I right? Not everyone is a meal ticket, not everyone makes the Crusaders, but they bet it all. I was lucky enough to get into Prestige "the Harvard of Training HighSchools," where I developed my distaste for the legacies.
Oh, your great grandma was HawkLady and every woman has followed in her footsteps, you've already secured a spot with Crusaders? How nice for you.
You don't say, HammerClaw is your uncle and you've been training with Justice Team since you were a child? No shit, you aren't stressed about graduation (if you like a B team, I mean...)
I had to earn my spot, and I earned my internship. I followed the rules then, I was honest, I worked hard. I wanted to be one of them, and I was excited to find a mentor - help me find my way! How can I use my powers for good? Should I travel the world boiling dirty water in rural areas? Or could I do more to fight crime somehow?
But that isn't what happened. See, what they told tell you on the news is, many of your favorite superheros, they are assholes. They are aggressive arrogant and antagonist. Rich dicks never put in their place because of their powers. Imagine your childhood bully can now hit 10x as hard, or turn invisible to depants you (or watch you change, ladies. Yah, I know of at least one who has done it, hes famous and you probably idolize him, too.)
On my first day, they threw away the coffee pot and put my chair in the spot. I wasn't allowed to speak, I could only say beep when a coffee was ready. Apparently the hot water heater was fairly weak, so the next week several Crusaders had me heating up water tanks before showers.
It was also around the first few days that my stress and humiliation got the better of me. Walking home, I was so angry. SO ANGRY! They thought so little of me. I was thinking of my hatred when I heard the rat screaming. I didnt want to harm a living thing, I swear, it happened so quickly.
I tried to control my anger, I tried to reach out for help, and I looked at different agencies, but then it happened. Patronizing behavior at the Crusaders I could ignore, but the harassment escalated. Some days it would be telling me how weak and pathetic I am, other days my food getting thrown away in front of me. The day I snapped, that old fuck Warrior, he had the audacity to grab my crotch. Right there, out in the open, in front of all the other Sups.
I broke. Right there like a snap. His scream was a lot like the rats. I felt arms grabbing at me, but I don't remember it really. I had tunnel vision on his twisting face, which screams roared through the cafeteria. The smell, that was tough. Dozens of bodies with the liquid evaporating out, cooking their organs. I didnt mean to kill them all, but it happened so quickly.
After an incident like that, I didnt have a choice. Even a B team like Justice Team isn't going to take a person whose killed what, 15 people? Sups to boot. I know what they are all thinking too - How do you take down someone who killed the most Sups singlehandedly BY MISTAKE.
So, then I have to think. My parents put EVERYTHING on my success, and I'm an only child so I have to take care of them. How much are people willing to pay so I don't destroy oceans? How much would they pay to keep their drinking water?
Maybe the better question, how much would a government pay me to destroy another country's water.
|
Somehow, this wasn’t what I had imagined when I got the position as an intern for Opulence. Somehow, I never would have thought that their steadfast promise of protection, their public assurances of safety, or their pact to defend mankind at all costs had all been a ruse.
The name should have been a dead giveaway, really. The most renowned superhero team in the world, known for their exploits from stopping Harold the Wise to preventing the apocalypse twice, built upon a foundation of lies.
They were just in it for the renown: the slices of fame, the money, the sex, the drugs.
When I got this job as an intern, I was expecting to witness the unsurpassed intelligence of The Brain, the untold gleam of Starling as she went off to battle, or the heroic rescues that The Phantom was known for.
They said that my power had its uses. I didn’t imagine that those “uses” would involve warming up their coffee or starting up the hot tub. They treated me like trash, little more than a slave in a land they controlled.
I’d been here for years, and the only one who had shown me any worth was The Stain. It made sense, in a cosmic sort of way. He was the intern before me, been told the same as me when they hired him.
He was just lucky enough to be there when Garphan had died. Just lucky enough to take his place like nothing ever happened; to be treated as a sort of equal to the rest of Opulence. Even if, in truth, he did little more than act as support. A backup plan, in layman’s terms.
I could tell that he hadn’t let go of his grievences with the team. It’d show during our talks, the little moments of privacy we had together. He understood what I had gone through, lived and breathed it for years. He was my only friend in this toxic playground of a workplace. The one rock that had held me together from snapping.
I sometimes lingered upon the idea of quitting, but I never found the courage to do it. My father was proud of me, I had enough money to last awhile, and my little brother never had to wake up in pain in the morning ever again.
I even pondered upon walking on the path of a villain, in my more private moments. But my more earthly responsibilities kept me in check.
But every person has a breaking point, no matter how strong willed they were.
It was during one of their monthly meetings, one of the few constants the team had.
Paradigm was sulking in his chair, The Stain was late yet again, and Duo was being his annoying selves.
It was just one little comment, one I had even heard dozens of times before. But it seemed to be enough for the proverbial dam to break.
Within seconds, the heroes before me were on the ground, writhing in pain and eliciting screeches of pain. Their skin morphed into an eerie red, welts and bubbles forming over their skin. It wasn’t long before the room fell silent.
The world famous Opulence, its ranks killed by the hands of a measly intern.
I stood there, silent, and thinking over what I had just done. It was when I heard the metallic clang of the door open behind me that my eyes widened. It was The Stain - ever bound to be late to these meetings - and he was shock still.
“I— I—“ I sputtered.
“Huh,” he said lamely. “Somehow, I’m not surprised in the slightest.”
“Wha— What?” I asked dubiously. “You— Your not horrified? Your not going to arrest me?”
“Arrest you? Please. These idiots have been deserving of something like this for a long time. In fact, it made sense that you would do something like this. The human body is mostly made of water, after all.”
“But... but I—“
The colors of the room began to melt off their surfaces, forming their own puddles of muck on the ground. They slowly made their way towards The Stain, gathering into neat little shapes in his hand.
“Now, who would you like? Hamstring, for his durability? Or The Brain for his... well, brain?”
“I—“
“Oh, oh! Or, I can give you Garphan. I’ve had him for long enough.”
“I’d rather not have any of them, thank you.”
He laughed. “Ah, suit yourself, then,” he said, the shapes falling into his skin. He then wrapped his arm around my shoulders, ushering me to the elevator.
“Come along now, my friend. We should leave before anyone takes notice.”
| 2019-07-30T17:21:26 | 2019-07-30T15:09:58 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: "Avenge my murder!" "Redeem my sins!" "Reveal my terrible secret!" Yours is...less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with.
|
"Big Brother?"
He woke up, groggily and rolled over to look into the middle of the bedroom. The little boy stood quietly, timidly.
"Y-yeah?" He said struggling to wake up enough to be even a little coordinated.
"I can't beat Bowser!" The pale little boy half wept. "I tried and tried but I can't beat him! And then I got so sleepy I fell asleep on the heater vent and ran out of batteries."
"Uh, listen. Did you uhm, get batteries?"
"Yeah," the boy sniffed. He must not have slept well on the floor. His eyes were cracked and irritated and there were dark circles around them.
"Did, AHEM, 'scuse me. Did you get back to Bowser?"
*Sniffs "Yeah."
"Alright, give it to me."
"Really?" The little boy squealed with the kind of sudden joy only an eight year old has. "Here!"
The little boy handed over the Gameboy and jumped excitedly onto the bed and gasped as if struggling to breathe.
It felt strange in his hands. It wasn't wide and ergonomic, but tall and brick shaped and the screen was backlit green on green. Still, there was a first time to Bowser, so big brother duties were necessary.
He hit the, 'Start,' button and it took a second to get the feeling of the buttons and the motion on the screen just right, but he relearned quickly. Three stutter steps and a jump and the turtle-like dragon's draw bridge was pulled out from underneath him. Bowser fell into the green lava before the screen went black.
"There you go," He said with sleep hazy triumph and handed the box over...
To no one.
He looked up, and there was no gasping little boy. No brick shaped GameBoy in his hand. And as he came to consciousness he remembered he was 26 years old. He had just bought this house a month ago for a massively discounted price, and this was his first night here. He was single, so there was no one else in the house to wake him.
He had to replace the batteries in the CO detectors when he first moved in.
And he was an only child.
|
I sigh as I glance at the run down neon sign in the window. I mean, I would sigh if it actually did something. I'm a ghost so I don't really need to breathe but I'm getting sidetracked. Story of my life...and afterlife apparently.
The sign blinks and buzzes a little more than normal as I phase through it and the dirty window it's behind. The woman sitting at the desk looks up from her phone and stares right at my floating form.
"What the actual FUCK?!?" she says dropping her phone and scrambling out of the chair. She's a lot younger than most of these mediums I've gone to, trying to fix my problem. Maybe this one will actually get it done.
"Whoa, slow down there turbo. Obviously you can see me, which is a good thing. It means you can help me."
"Help you? What the hell are you? Is this some sort of goddamn prank?" she replies inching along the wall trying to put as much distance between me and her.
Another ghost sigh from me, "I'm an honest to gods ghost. A shade, wraith, phantom, specter, whatever the hell you wanna use. I have," I throw up the ol' ghost air quotes, "unfinished business and can't move to what's next til it's done. It's all really fucking cliche and I fucking hate it but hey, apparently those are the rules."
She stops moving away and tilts her head. Awesome, she's intrigued. This might actually work this time.
"What kind of unfinished business? Find your killer? Expose a family secret? Oh! Tell your significant other you'll love them forever and be there with them always?!? That's so romantic!!"
"Uhhhh no. None of that. And I never had a significant other which I guess in a weird way is tied to what I need your help with."
"So what then?"
I look down at the floor and grab the back of my neck. This is usually where it all goes south. I look up and try and give her my best puppy dog eyes. Fuck this is embarrassing still.
"I need you to find my laptop and delete my browser history."
| 2022-07-15T13:24:52 | 2022-07-15T09:55:01 | 211 | 142 |
[WP] Everyone is granted a familiar when they turn 15. A loyal creature that vastly improves their owner's life. Your familiar is one of the wisest and most powerful of them all. Unfortunately, you're deadly afraid of it's species.
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Take a wild guess what I got. What are a LOT of people afraid of, hm? What sends thousands upon thousands of grown adults into fits of fear? If you guessed spiders, well here's your cigar man. My familiar was a fucking spider. Not just any spider either, since it was "magical" or whatever the thing was enormous. About as big as my torso to be exact. When it crawled down the wall of the summoning room I nearly kicked it across said room but, because it was a magical spider, it moved out of the way EXTREMELY fast. My impulsive action didn't seem to bother it though, it just backed up and appeared to compose itself before speaking in a somewhat chittery but strangely human voice.
"Well now I can't say I'm surprised; but don't you think that's a bit rude? I mean we haven't even spoken yet and you're already trying to kill me."
The shock was starting to fade and my acceptance was beginning to grow, slowly. The large arachnid must have seen this happening by the look on my face and continued with it's introduction.
"I am Nevil, or at least that's what my name sounds like in your language. I don't want you to have to make a bunch of clicking noises whenever you want to speak with me, that would be weird for both of us, trust me."
I was still horrified of the thing but it was just BARELY starting to seem sort of cool. I decided I'd try talking with it at least.
"So... Why is my familiar a spider? Like, what's your purpose?"
"To protect and serve you of course! I am also very lonely so I'd like it if we can be friends!"
Nevil sounded downright giddy and he switched from leg to leg to leg while speaking.
"Friends?"
"Why yes, of course. It's very lonely where I come from, my kind are not exactly sociable but I'm an exception. I need a companion and it looks like that is you."
Nevil raised one leg to point at me. It was strange, but I swear I could read facial expressions he was making while talking.
"Well... Nevil... Ho-how are you going to improve my life?"
"A question straight from the book of course. Well I can provide protection against a very long list of things, including your own kind; I can make VERY durable clothing, and I can be a wonderful companion. These are broad explanations but I'm sure you'll find they are all true."
Nevil sounded sincere and I was kind of starting to like him, I decided he sounded more male than female. I took a few steps forward.
"I suppose I've also been sort of lonely these past few years. Might as well give it a shot since you don't seem to have any intention of biting me."
"BITING YOU? Oh nonono I would never in my life, promise."
I felt bad, it sounded like I had hurt his feelings. He crawled a little closer and looked up at me, eyes seeming to get wider.
"I would NEVER hurt you, I need you and if you let me, I will be your closest companion."
I decided then to make a leap of faith. I kneeled down and stretched my hand out. Nevil let out a chorus of excited clicking sounds and jumped onto my arm. I flinched, bracing for his fangs to puncture my skin, but he just continued crawling up onto my back. He was surprisingly light, it wasn't unlike carrying my school bag around. With that out of the way, I left the summoning room.
You can imagine the looks we got as we walked down the hallway to the school exit. With my school bag in hand and a massive spider on my back there were looks of horror, confusion, and some funny jokes but none of it bothered either of us. I still remember that day as the best day of my life.
It's been five years since I summoned Nevil and he has honored everything that he promised when we first met. I've even taken to wearing the clothes he makes more frequently than standard clothing. On long nights I'll stay up smoking while he spins elaborate webs in the upper corner of my porch and we'll talk for hours about mostly what he's curious about. He asks about books a lot for some reason but I don't mind telling him about them. My house is pest free and Nevil hardly ever needs to ask for more food, I've asked if he can roam the rest of my apartment building and use it as his hunting ground but my landlord kindly turned me down so every once in a while I have to buy something for Nevil to eat.
As for protection, well we got into a bit of trouble a year ago when someone tried to break into my apartment while I was away. I left Nevil at home to go to the store for a little over an hour but when I came back the door was kicked in and there was a man wrapped up in an extremely tight cocoon hanging from the ceiling. He was screaming bloody murder of course and Nevil was looking at him angrily.
"He broke your coffee mug."
Nevil sounded like an annoyed parent.
"Okay...?"
"And he tried to take your money."
I really didn't know how to proceed at this point so I told Nevil to cut him down and I called the police. They showed up shortly after and weren't alarmed or confused in the slightest. They just picked up the bundled-up burglar and walked out. Nevil did a temporary fix on the door and I had it replaced the following week.
Anyways, all I can say is that if you're summoning a familiar and you get a massive spider, you're gonna have a good friend and exceptional pest control.
|
Brian was a creature of habit. Not particularly because he liked the routine, more so because routine governed his life in a way that made him less afraid. The world was scary, and people's advice didn't help. A familiar could crash at any moment, a misaligned spell or a spell that drew more power than anticipated could injure him beyond repair. How was he supposed to just not think about these things, as everyone else did? It just didn't seem possible - he was just wired differently than the rest of these masochists, it seemed foolish to assume otherwise. A small familiar, safe location that I can call home, a work-from-home office job. Yes, that seemed like a life suited for him.
\--
The leviathan swirled its claws, outraging a cry that visibly intimidated the rest of the summoned familiars in Brian's class. "I AM ONE OF FOUR WINDBONDERS IN EXISTANCE" it shouted, "BONDED HERE AND NOW TO THIS BOY, SMALL OF STATURE? A JOKE THIS MUST BE, SURELY! HA HA HA!" The leviathan class creature hit the ground with its claws, each of them bearing an area equivalent to a soldier in peak condition, and each of them creating human-sized creators in the ground below. Its emerald eyes looked downwards at Brian, then at the rest of the class.
"THIS IS NO BOND OF WARRIORS OR FREEDOM FIGHTERS, THIS IS THE CLASS OF CIVILIZED MEN, KNOWING NOT WHAT HONOUR EVEN MEANS."
"We live in a modern era, and thus we threw away old concepts such as honor." Samara, the instructor stated, using her most authoritative voice. "It leads to countless deaths, for no purpose."
"WEAK."
The leviathan did not move, it remained upright, scanning the room around him, no doubt amused by the people and familiars alike staring at him, seemingly frozen in time. Brian had not moved throughout this entire process. He had not had a thought, he had not even contemplated that he would get a leviathan class familiar.
It moved its head down, its giant, table-sized scales produced a wave-like pattern, similar to a snake-familiar moving through the grass until finally its eye was placed about 3 meters away from Brain. His stomach dropped, his breath quickened, his legs trembled, but refused to let him stand up.
"SURELY MY PURPOSE IS TO TRANSFORM YOU INTO SOMETHING THAT PEOPLE CAN BEAR TO LOOK AT. I'VE SEEN WILD BUNNIES WITH MORE BACKBONE THAN... WHATEVER YOU ARE..." Its pupil-less eyes gazed at him, emotionless, as most animals were. It was hard to interpret this monster. It looked like the personification of the monster you might describe to a child in an attempt to get him to behave.
"I.. I.. I... I don't... I.. Please... What are you?" Brain muttered out, quietly, trying not to offend.
It didn't respond, continuing its emotionless gaze. Brian could now start to see his own reflection in the sea of green. It looked like he was groveling, with opened eyes and a gaped mouth, legs folded beneath his torso, and hands placed right before his knees. An odd sight, he'd never thought he'd assumed this position before, although he'd likely done it before. In front of his own parents perhaps, while asking for a present.
"I BELIEVE I WAS SUMMONED FOR A PURPOSE, BUT I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT IS. I BELIEVE WE HAVE AN ADVENTURE IN FRONT OF US. YOU ARE NOT READY FOR SUCH AN ADVENTURE, BUT UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, I DO NOT CARE MUCH FOR YOUR NEEDS. WE HAVE VE ALREADY BEEN BONDED, SO NEITHER OF US CAN REFUSE. I WILL LIE DORMANT UNTIL OUR PURPOSE BECOMES EVIDENT. PREPARE FOR THIS DAY HOWEVER YOU WILL."
The leviathan exploded into an aura of green mist. Of its once lobster-like appearance remained a dark green outline with a light green interior, slowly rising into the sky as if it were steam from a hot shower. Its invisible soul had placed itself inside him, or so he was told. He didn't feel a thing.
Moments of silence rang deafeningly across the field of which his class stood. His class still seemed to be under the leviathans paralyzing intimidation. Samara, who presented herself to be untouchable, was visibly sweating at the presence of such a being, holding one hand to her exposed torso and the other placed diagonally across her chest, in a way that may guard her midsection against an ordinary attack.
She spoke: "That concludes the summoning ceremony of Oathscaster School 354 IP. Feel free to return to your homes. You are dismissed."
Brian, still seated on the grass, had just started to feel its dampness. The bottom of his uniform had been soaked through, and his heart had been beating against his ribcage, like a berserker who'd just acquired a drum kit.
"Brian," Samara said, approaching him, visibly shaken, "The responsibilities of being a leviathan-class summoner have not been discussed in class. Quite frankly I do not have the capabilities to assist you. You will need to head to the beastmaster, and he will likely refer you to a suitable mentor."
| 2022-01-14T14:23:25 | 2022-01-14T14:23:05 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title.
|
"There are a lot less people here than I thought there would be."
"How many people were you expecting?"
"About 9 or 10."
"This village has, like, 1,000 people."
I was really nervous. This title was gonna stay with me for as long as I lived. I'm mundane as shit. What good do I have? I'm not gonna have any awesome title. The guy in front of me, he was the lead guitarist for a band, I think. Aaron, lead guitarist of a shitty grunge band, that's a better title than whatever I'm gonna get. Maybe they'll call me "Bryan, the sad crier in a bathroom cubicle" or something.
There are only 2 people left in the line. Me and this guy, Aaron. At least I'll have compa... Nevermind, he's heading in.
"Good luck, Aaron."
"You too, Bryan."
Ok. I just have to wait it out for another 5 minutes. How is this procedure gonna go? Glenda says hi, offers you a biscuit, gives you your title, you piss off. How hard could it be? I just-
"Holy shit that was fast", says Aaron.
"Wait. WHAT?! HOW ARE YOU ALREADY OUT?"
"Easy lmao. She said hi, gave me a biscuit, told me my title, I pissed off."
I swear if I didn't know him I'd call him a smartass. It looked like it's my turn. I walked into the room where Glenda waited.
It was a spacious room, and seemed almost like a small civil courthouse, but it gave the appearance of being in a Senate hearing. Red and maroon everywhere, which made the chestnut wood chairs seem right at home. I walked up the aisle, taking it all in, when I saw her.
"Hello there Bryan. It's time to find out your name. Have a biscuit."
I took a biscuit, but I couldn't eat. My stomach was kind of uncomfortable. Why? It's not like this'd matter in the long term. Ugh.
"I'm not gonna waste too much time, but I always ask, what do you expect your name to be?"
"I have no goddamned clue."
Glenda smirked and looked directly at me.
"Normally, Bryan, I explain the person's title after they get it. But this time, I'll tell you first. I know how your high school experience changed you. You didn't feel worth it."
Now I REALLY wanted to throw up.
"But you persevered. Through all the crap people gave you. You were a sad soul, hell maybe you still are. But you never gave up on yourself."
What was she talking about? I totally did. I almost committed suicide. They drove me to the brink.
"I'll cut to the chase. Your new title, Bryan, is the Survivor of Sadness."
Huh?
"Your Honour? Why is that such a big deal? Aren't boys like me MEANT to do that?"
"Why should a boy be meant to experience depression and suicide?"
A tear found itself at my eye. To this day, I don't know if it was from happiness from being understood, or sadness from not realising that my experiences weren't meant to be normal.
At least I got a bitchin' title out of it.
This isn't part of the story, but please support people with depression and help to combat suicide. No one, regardless of gender, should be made to feel like they're not worth it.
|
After the fall there were so few of us we didn't bother with last names.
It took a long time for the population to get to a point were last names were really needed. Most people would work hard to get a good name from the elders on naming day.
I was 18. This was my naming day. Still I knew this was the worst day of my life.
I was drunk, barely able to think. It was the day I'd been dreading. The worst day of my life. It just did not seem fair. It was all a youthful indiscretion.
I was in the naming line. I could barely hear the name given to the lady seven people in front of me...
Sarah Weaver ~ Sarah was a good weaver. It was a good name.
Jake Farmerman ~ That was a good one also. I thought.
I had built a school with my bare hands. It didn't seem fair at all.
I had helped in the hospital.
I did not hear the next name given or the one after that.
Ronny Repairman ~ I'd helped Ronny. By rights part of his name belonged to me.
I was almost up. There was one person before me.
Peter the Physicist ~ That was a stretch. I mean he was good at math. He taught math. It should have been Mark the Mathematician.
Oh well I was up. I took a swig from my flask. I stepped in front of the elder.
"please.." I begged.
There was a gasp, from the crowd No one begged anything from the elders.
She handed me a piece of paper with my new name.
People started laughing. I just wanted to die. I walked out into the street with tears building in the back of my eyes. I would not break down in front of these people.
I marched away from these people. I thought of leaving the settlement all together and becoming a nameless one walking the wastelands.
Someone called me by my new name.
Yup I realized sometimes it was better to have a short dangerous life rather than a long safe, awful one.
I saw Ronny walking down the street. Ronny has always been a friend of mine. We've known each other for ten years. It was evidenced when he used only my first name.
"Let me by you a drink, Sam."
"Do you really want to be seen with me after today?"
"It's just a name."
"I have to leave Ronny. I won't be able to live here anymore."
"Come on, at least have a beer on me before you pack."
"Thanks Ronny."
We walked to the "old snake" pub.
I sat down on a stool. The Bartender looked at me and started cracking up.
"See" I said to Ronny pointing to Bill Barman.
"Don't pay attention to old Bill Barman. He's a jerk"
"Hey Ronny what are you doing with him?" Shouted a guy in the back
"Leave him alone. That name was unfair. He helped me build a school.He helped me fix the plumbing in half your houses. What is wrong with you people? Have you no compassion?"
"Sorry" Said Bill Barman. "What's in a name? I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
He looked me in the eye. "So Sam Sheep's nightmare what will it be? "
| 2017-04-27T19:11:10 | 2017-04-27T18:02:50 | 185 | 56 |
[WP] The "Educator" is a serial killer who will try to educate his victims about some topic over 24 hours and then test them. They get to escape unharmed only if they pass.
|
“Alright, Miss. Stevens,” I said with a nasty grin. “Let us see what you have learned.”
Tears streaked down her face, ruining her makeup. She moaned slightly as I stepped into the light.
“Normally, you would have to answer all ten questions to pass. But, today I’m feeling lenient. You shall only need to get sixty percent in order to pass.”
“However.” My smile became a cold sneer. “If you don’t reach that mark, I’m afraid…” I slammed the knife I was holding behind my back into the table in front of her, eliciting a wail of fear.
“Let’s begin, shall we? First question.” I announced, pulling the blade out of the wood. “After the company’s sales declined for months, Hershey tried a new approach, or Hershey tried a new approach after the company’s sales declined for months."
“Um,” she stopped crying to answer. “The second one.”
“Wrong.” I said, twirling the knife.
“Next question.” I ignored the girl’s protests. “Thomas is a person that likes cake or Thomas is a person who likes cake.”
“The first sentence.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right.” I laughed gleefully over her screams. “Third question.”
“My pet is better than yours or my pet is better then yours.” I said. “Better then yours, please. That has to be right.”
I let the suspense dangle in the air before I broke it. “Wrong again!” I crowed as the girl yelled and jerked at her bonds.
“Final question,” I hissed after I watched her head droop down, consigned to her fate.
“No, no, please, please,” She said through her sobs.
“Easy one here,” I smirked. “Did the book have a great effect on John and I? Or did the book have a great affect on John and I?”
But she just sat there wailing loudly, completely ignoring my demands.
“Time’s ticking, Miss. Stevens,”
She choked down her sobs and looked at me fearfully. “John and I? Isn’t it supposed to be John and me?”
“What?” I stared puzzled at her and then strode back towards the copy of Grammar for Dummies on my desk. Flipping through it, I found the page I was looking for and my heart froze.
“Oh my god,” I gasped in horror at my mistake. “Ach mein Gott,” I said as I raised the blade to my neck.
|
Some call me a villain. Others call me a plague. Even more refer to me as a menace, or scum, or even a piece of human trash. It’s quite humorous, those talking about me don’t even know me. Only I know me. I prefer to think of myself as a teacher. Some of the hardest lessons are learned, shall we say, only when it’s life or death. How can you expect a student to truly peak if they aren’t fighting for their life. There is no greater motivator. The concept is simple. It began when I was fresh into my teaching career. The students I taught, they were all bright, but had so little motivation. One boy in particular, he was special. He could solve all of my questions in mere moments, but never so much as raised his hand. When I asked him if he wanted to pursue extra work outside of class to further his education, he passed up such an *opportunity*.
He couldn’t pass that up. Something so rare and special. Something that *I*, a teacher, had come to *him* for. It was a miscarriage of reason. He needed to learn respect, but more importantly, he needed to learn. I would help him. When the student was leaving for the day, I asked him to stay behind in my classroom. Much to his bewilderment, when I finally said he could go, the door wouldn’t unlock. No, that’s not what we were trying to unlock. We were going to unlock his potential, and they key was a proper mindset. I drew the shades and placed my knives upon the table. I scraped them menacingly, and I gave him one last chance to fight for his life. A test I had specially concocted for him. He passed. I let him go. He would grow up to be someone great, and I knew, I had truly reached that child.
He was not the first, nor would he be the last. I helped two more students that semester, and three more the next year. Unfortunately none of them could pass my tests. They weren’t as smart as they thought they were. What a shame. Anyways, what I did was for the greater good. I’m sure that’s obvious by now. Now just let me out of these cuffs and we can call it a day. I'll be sure to forget this ever happened judge, don't you worry.
| 2016-09-03T08:44:31 | 2016-09-03T08:27:18 | 114 | 14 |
[WP] Most young mages use incredibly complex spells and extremely rare ingredients to summon their familiar. You just drew a circle and threw a bag of chips in it.
|
I'd grown up in a family of rather powerful mages, but we were outcasts because of our unusual tactics. In all simplicity, we're lazy. We use the excuse of, "Everything one can find can be powerful if used correctly." The thing is, it's true. I've been able to create potions from food scraps, and they've actually worked!
Anyway, I recently came of age to summon a familiar. I've watched my friends and family perform the ritual, and I've come to realize that there can be so many variables. I chose to set up the ritual with as much simplicity as possible. I drew a circle on the ground and tossed a bag of my favorite chips in the center. I spoke and repeated the required mantra until a light erupted from the circle; in turn setting the chips on fire.
The fire startled me to the point that I fell back. Before I could sit back up, I heard a tiny roar coming from the circle. More than just excited to see what I summoned, I scrambled to sit up once more. My gaze immediately landed on the circle to see what it held.
A wyvern.
"Holy shit, I got a wyvern!" I exclaimed, and it ran up to me with just as much excitement as I had.
I'd heard that it was exceedingly difficult to summon a wyvern, but this shocked me. I had done the simplest ritual ever, and I summoned the most difficult familiar. I'm not complaining, but this is amazing.
|
Magic, magic is controlling the way electrocules react with other electrocules. Animals evolved with a vascular system that contained magnetite-surfer molecules which reacted strongly with ambient electrocules. This fluid is called magein. It evolved as part of our bodies to enhance blood flow and electrical signals.. it helped birds fly longer by making their blood more efficient essentially.
Some animals started gaining control, many fish where able to slingshot their magein forwards for a huge burst of speed. Birds used it to break off branches, there are so many examples of how magein being used to control electrocules past the body.
Mrs. Yatea had taught me much about the history of magein control, I was 25 now, and the only person able to create ancient-shadows.
These ancientiers where basically the remnant of animals’s electrocules, arranged and reformed to simulate what once was.
All I had to do was draw a circle, pumping my magein into my thumb and pinky, pull my hand up through the center of the circle and use my other hand to throw a bag of chips through the trail I’d just created...
The ancient that had walked right there 5 million years ago had appeared as a chain reaction made dust raise from the ground and cling to the ancient. All I had to do now was puppeteer my dust-rock T-Rex.
| 2019-04-05T15:12:44 | 2019-04-05T14:03:34 | 55 | 19 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories.
|
It was an awkward existence for any of us traveling outside the colonies. Wherever we went, we were met with equal parts fear and reverence.
The funny part was that in order to deal with the arms length, sorry that was insensitive, appendage length, that other species kept from humans, we often traveled with a pet, the source of the mixed feelings.
Mine is a fluffy ball of fur who mostly did her own thing. Cats are like that. I could always count on her to hop up beside me in our cabin for a bit of petting every night though.
This morning the other diplomats almost bowed down to Stuffy when they saw how I treated her. All I did was put a bowl down and use my Resource and Food Identification Chip to get her some bite to eat. They all thought it was a ritual.
Like she needs her ego stroked like that.
I don't think I'll ever get used to it. They call us Beastmasters since we're the only ones who ever tamed wild animals, no matter how terrifying. At least they understand that skill comes from a place of empathy, not hate.
But goddmaned if it's not a lot of pressure to become the peace negotiators of the galaxy because of it.
|
######[](#dropcap)
It's spawn are rampant all across the planet, split into multiple variants for each biome and condition.
They range from being as small enough to carry to the size of a medium humanoid, capable of downing the mightiest of us.
Even the bravest among us wouldn't dare to challenge them, but even the smaller ones take advantage of another tactic: packs.
Just like any other beast, what they lack in size and strength, they make up for in numbers, number who can think not in swarms but how to corner, how to chase, and how to kill.
But, it's not the tactics, it's not their numbers, no, it's their genetics. Kill one of a kind? They are genetically compatible with each other. Just mix one with another and its progeny will continue to plague us all.
We called it the Canis lupus familiaris, but the humans call them, dogs.
We don't know what or how humans domesticated these beasts, but one thing is certain: If they conquered such a species, who is next?
| 2020-01-04T18:43:56 | 2020-01-04T17:19:47 | 86 | 46 |
[WP] You die, become a ghost, decided to explore space, and then you met a ghost of an alien.
|
We had a hard time communicating at first.
That's why so much was left untold. Or lost in traslation.
But we quickly became friends, out there, near one of the moons of saturn, the closest one to the planet, Pan.
When I was alive, my name was Mark, now that I wasn't anymore, i liked to think that i didn't need a name.
One might think that, after i met my friend, a name was back in the "things i needed" list. Au contrair, my dear reader, a name is needed when there is a multitude of beings, when there's two, it's just "you" and "me". Sometimes "us". And very often "them". "Them" who, you might ask?
The rest of the people, humans and not humans, that made our lives so pitiful.
After the dances, the heavy gesturing, the laugh that came from learning to communicate with each other, we came up with a language that existed just for us, a beautiful language where a comma* was a little flip in the air, and a full stop was dropping dead to the ground (when there was actually a ground, in space we just pretended to lie there in the spot)
That creature, my friend, his smile was the best. It kinda took me a long time to recognize it was a smile, all his eyes opened at the same time and his little green head started to bounce all around, like a ball tied to a rope, and the rope being his neck.
Sometimes he even similed while talking about all the things that went wrong in its life, and I was happy for it; whenever I talked about my bad times, my face was covered in pain and regret only.
But when it was its turn, my friend always seemed to still carry a little bit of hope that someday, its past life would become a good and happy life.
One day he told me about that time an alien it loved broke his heart. There was no* such thing as sex in his planet, and a loved one was just someone you wanted to spend all eternity with and bounce your heads around together all the time.
Then it watched me, with just eight of his eyes, and told me it wished I was like him, and we could spend all our eternities together.
Seeing that just eight of its eyes were open, I understood it was very embarassed,.
From early in our friends was clear to me that the more eyes very open, the more confident the alien was. And, just like humans, aliens let themself go fully just when they are laughing and having fun, opening all their colourful and crazy eyes for the universe to see they're having fun.
So I told him we could spend all our afterlife together.
My friend didn't seem satisfied with that answer, and I was a little hurt by that reaction.
But I didn't ask why, a mistake lovers too often do, and we went on with our joking and dancing.
We kept on going until we couldn't anymore.
One day, my little green, quite literally, soulmate, literally, disappeared.
I didn't understand at first. I understand now, after all these years of traveling and searching.
I found the planet where my soulmate had a name again. The planet in which death was temporary, and life was eternal. Just like we sleep, they die.
And they die once every 2000 years.
So now I'm here waiting, hoping it doesn't find someone else to die with, hoping it will be always my soulmate.
----
*edit
**edit
|
It took Hector a full six months to forget about the laws of physics. Then, with nothing more than the ethereal threads on his back, and an incorporeal journal to record his findings, Hector set off for the stars.
Ten hours of forceful floating later, approximately fifty miles past the Karman line, Hector made his first real discovery. There it was, a giant blob of a jellyfish, distinctly waving at him, beckoning him to come closer.
“Over here, come say hello!”
“What the… how… are you…”
“Yes,” said the jellyfish, “I’m a ghost, just like you!”
“I suppose you are communicating with me… through my mind…”
“You’re not that bad at telepathy yourself,” said the jellyfish. “Can you see where I’m from? Here, take a look.”
Hector did, and peered into the creature’s mind. He glimpsed a planet far away, hidden behind a succession of stars which had thus far shielded it from human eyes.
“That’s my planet over there, Nauon.”
“Why, I should try to make a stop there myself! I’m on a journey, you see. I’m going to explore the whole universe!”
“Oh, you wouldn’t like that. Trust me, best that you stay here instead. Hang around a bit, enjoy the peace and solitude up here, then head back to Earth.”
“Why would I do that?” laughed Hector. “Unchained, I can take in sights never before seen by anyone, revel in the secrets-”
“The thing is,” said the jellyfish, “you wouldn’t be the first. There have been others like you, you see. We come across them from time to time, when we float through space.”
“What do you mean?”
The jellyfish waved its tentacles. “See, I wouldn’t expect you to know this. But all spiritual manifestations, like ourselves… we lose more and more of our sanity the further we drift from our homeworlds! Go too far, and then you’re reduced to nothingness, less than even the hazy storm of energy you are now. That’s why I’m here. I’m here to warn you before it’s too late.”
Hector laughed again, harder this time. “Why, I wouldn’t mind that at all! For centuries I’ve roamed Earth, and frankly, there are only so many people you can haunt before you tire of it all! Yes, I would like to see this planet of yours, and any others there might be! And if I should so dissipate, then so be it!”
“No, wait, you don’t want to do that, really. See, when you-”
But Hector had already floated off, after knocking off the sharpest salute he could muster. The jellyfish flubbed about, its tentacles flailing as it tried to hold Hector back. But phantasms rarely have any hold over other phantasms, and the jellyfish’s desperate overtures did little to hold Hector back.
In seconds, Hector was already a sparkle in the distance, speeding towards the nearest star which had taken his fancy.
The jellyfish sighed, then touched its tentacles to its head. It concentrated, found the right ethereal wavelength, then delivered its report.
“Human Spirit No. 22 has not been persuaded. I repeat, Human Spirit No. 22 has not been persuaded. Another one has broken free of the containment net. Time for Plan B!”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2018-03-27T07:23:50 | 2018-03-27T07:18:02 | 64 | 19 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned.
|
"Da hell?"
When finals ended I had resolved to spend no moment of the weekend sober. One moment I had been sitting on the steps of my apartment building smoking a cigarette, fending off last night's hangover with a bottle of whiskey, and the next I was sitting in a small, darkened room.
"Where's my cig... FUCK!"
Having located my still lit cigarette burning a hole through the crotch of my jeans I leapt to my feet, hitting my head on the ceiling while frantically brushing the embers off my lap. The blow to the head, while not at all sobering, at least alerted me to the fact this room was even smaller than I originally thought. Upon closer inspecting I realized that the room was built and furnished in such a way that it may have been a grand cathedral to tiny people. As I finished brushing the remaining embers off my lap I registered small, frantic voices somewhere in the room.
"Did you see? It can create fire! This will be perfect!"
"It's huge, Dina! I don't think this was a good idea..."
"We did everything perfectly. It has to obey us, Ariel, don't worry."
Squinting in the direction of the voices, I managed to focus my unsteady gaze on what appeared to be two young girls, normal in appearance except for the fact that they were no more than a foot tall.
In a more sober state I would have asked them who or what they are, where I was, how I got here, or why everything seemed to be a fifth of it's normal size besides me. Instead, what came out was;
"Pfffffft, HAHAHA, you're so small, HAHAHAHA!"
"Demon! We have summoned you to do our bidding", said Dina confidently, though visibly shaken my my laughter. "You are under our control and we will not release you until you have fulfilled our wishes."
"Uh, okay, I'll do that. What'm I doin?"
"You will exact our vengeance upon those who have shunned us. They are right out there", said Dina, pointing toward a tiny curtained window I hadn't noticed before.
I unsteadily laid down on the ground. Using a finger I forced the curtains open and looked outside. This definitely wasn't the rainy Pacific Northwest I lived in. It appeared to be a tropical paradise. I looked across a tiny street to a white sandy beach. There was a group girls there, they looked much more popular than the two in the room with me. Noticing me looking back at them, Ariel said sincerely;
"They're mean. They always pick on us."
"Those bitches", I said as I drunkenly crawled on my knees toward the front door of the church and forced my way through the small opening.
As I stood up at full height, now outside in a pleasant summer heat, I could see small people and cars stopping to stare at my massive size. Spreading my arms wide and pounding my feet into the ground, I said in my best giant's voice:
"FEE FI FO FUM! YOU WILL ALL BOW BEFORE ME!"
As the streets cleared as tiny people fled in fear, I looked back at Ariel and Dina to find them smiling.
See, I told you it would work", Dina said to Ariel as I turned back to look at the paradise before me.
"Well, if this is my life now, should be fun", I thought to myself. "I hope they have booze."
|
It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!"
| 2017-05-12T09:53:02 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 59 | 10 |
[WP] In a world of witches and wizards, you are the sole person without magic. However, you are also the smartest, outwitting them with every move as they try to hunt you for a pure society.
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At the center of the palm where the passage to the heart and the focus of the mind converges, power emerges.
It began with a single spark of overwhelmingly intense heat. The spark kissed the air around it, eager to grow. In return, the air gave it the might of fire.
It was a beautiful transformation, I was in awe each time I saw it.
Another palm, belonging to the second hunter, gathered the disagreeable forces of the air. Polarised to extremities, they led a charge that crackled in paths converging at the heart of the palm.
The show was lovely while it lasted. I resolved to return to the matter at hand. As they readied their respective flashy elements to break down the door to my hideout, I sat waiting.
It was made of lacquered wood, highly-rated for fire safety. It also charred really well.
The element hunters fired their respective shots, which knocked the door off its hinges and into a flaming slab at my feet.
When I saw their complacent sneers, I met theirs with my own.
The sprinklers rained down upon us. Prey in sight, they excitedly prepared their second charges without hesitation. At which point the fire fizzled and both of them began to convulse with the interception of their motor functions by unwelcome electricity.
I sighed. As always, these elementers were overly reliant on their flashy abilities.
*Getting a little complacent, are we?* a whisper made me shudder before I could smile.
As darkness fell, I closed my eyes. The floor left my soles and there was no longer any up or down. If I just kept my eyes shut and my mind clear, I could keep breathing.
*It's about time to give it up, don't you think?*
I ignored him, and pulled through the heavy, viscous air in desperate strokes, solely focusing on keeping my approach in a single direction.
Finally, when it seemed like I was going to explode like an overblown balloon, my palm found the glass of the window.
I punched through the took the dive down three stories into a pungent heap of filth. Then I dug myself out of it and ran along the crowded midday streets of the city.
---
Check out other prompt-inspired stories on my site, [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com)!
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I remember how much my parents have sacrificed as I grew up to keep my disability a secret. My mother quit her job at the potion shop to make time for homeschooling me. The financial stress caused my father to lash out at in heated fights with my mother cursing the day they brought me into this world. The pain of growing up as an outcast of society is seared into my memory, but it has been three years now since I have left my parents' home to survive as the only wizard without magical powers and yet there was nothing to prepare me for the pain I was facing now.
running through the dark woods I hear the chanting of spells and curses being directed to wards me. I reach into my backpack and pull out a decoy that I had prepared for a situation like this. I turn it on and toss the small metal ball to the ground. it quickly takes off rolling at high speed, avoiding trees and rocks in its way, projecting a recorded sound of my foot steps. I grab onto the thick bark of a willow tree and begin to climb. I make my way to some of the higher branches before the wizards get to my location but they have not spotted me and the decoy is doing its job in moving them forward. I watch their faces full of anger and rages as they run past the tree. How has my existence hurt them to the extent that they are willing to kill in fear instead of living along side someone who is different.
I was left with no choice. I tried to live in exile but they hunt me out and destroy everything that I build. But this will be the last time I will let them hurt me. I stand on the tree branches and look ahead to see where they have reached in their march of destruction. I know I must do it now, there is no other way out. I reach into my pocket and pull out a signal transmitter, on it I had tapped a picture of my parents. Once I activate this transmitter I will never see them again. My hand shakes as I move my finger towards the button, I close my eyes, and I plunge down on the trigger.
The forest falls silent. No more. It is done. I climb down from the tree and I begin the first day of living on a planet now populated only by me.
| 2017-08-14T17:47:51 | 2017-08-14T16:55:59 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] Write a story that doesn't make sense until the last sentence.
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"Bil, bil! Holy fuck! I can't move, Bil!"
"Me too! The hell is going on? How long have we been like this?"
"For years, Bil! The agony! Holy hell, he is peeing on you! Literally peeing!"
"I can feel it! It's like worms under my skin! Kill me, Jim, kill me! I can't take this anymore! This is torture!"
George watched over the meadow and thought: "I suppose when I wished for "I wish I could hear trees talking" I expected something else."
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I've really done it this time...
To even get this far was unimaginable, everyone is just so confused, but none more than I. It was just a joke, I was bored. I got a kick out of it for a while, hearing the way they talked about me, everyone who was in on it was hysterical!
Then they started taking me seriously. I can't handle it. I just want it to stop, but there is absolutely no way things can go back to the way it was before...
I should never have run for president.
| 2017-06-15T02:05:04 | 2017-06-15T01:50:25 | 428 | 78 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this.
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The first time he met her, she was 61. Young, relatively, and dumb. She didn't know any better. A woman with a girl still inside her, a troubled past and a bleak future. The truth she faced was one all do. "Who will remember me after I'm gone?"
The answer came in the shape of sacrifice. The blood-dimmed King of night and dusk, shadow-playing and everpresent. She, a young foolish mortal, would make a perfect toy.
A mother, a lover, and a child. Blood after blood, the sacrifices completed. Ground sullied with life and death. An archaic rune scrawled on old broken ground. A flash, a breath, a deal. But what she gave was not enough. Desperate, hopeless, foolish. An eternity given willingly, and an eternity taken willingly.
_______________________________
The second time he met her, she was young, still. A mere century had passed. This time, he came for her.
A flash, a breath, a deal. The memory still fresh. She had fame, fortune, power. Memory of her would be everpresent. But the deal was broken. Shattered, thrown, lost. Time was coming for her, but not death. He saw, and smiled, and understood. She, uncertain, fearful, hopeful, did not. He laughed, and retreated.
_______________________________
The third time he met her, time had stopped. An eternity given, and an eternity spent. This time, he approached her. A foe, a friend, a fellow. The deal, fulfilled. An eternity in hell, but an eternity in life. A curse on her, put by all. Hate, fear, regret. Pain sowed in the fabric of reality. The deal, fulfilled. He watched, and waited, and left.
Edit: This is my first time answering a prompt, critiques and feedback welcome!
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Edit: Need help formatting this so it doesn't look like a block of letters...
Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,
Medicine ready to go
Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
How do you think I'm going to get along
When you're never gone?
You took me for everything that I had
And left me all on my own
Are you happy, are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
There are plenty of ways that you can save a man
And keep him outta hell
You can feed him, you can heal him
You can treat him fine and leave him when he's well
But I'm ready, yes, I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet
Into the doorway the bullets rip
Repeating to the sound of the beat oh yeah
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
| 2018-08-23T14:02:54 | 2018-08-23T12:48:16 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Humans are seen as a diplomatic race of negotiators and peacemakers, leading to other races seeing them as weak. When one species attacks a human fleet station, however, they soon realize why diplomacy became a survival mechanism for the earthlings.
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"Haven't you read our histories?" asked the lieutenant. Her uniform was singed and torn, and a streak of dried blood ran down over her left eye. Otherwise, though, she was unhurt.
The Jozzdi, manacled and bruised and leaking blue ichor, spat out another fang. "To what end? Your race is soft! You natter on about... teamwork... fairness."
The Jozzdi captive looked around. There was certainly nothing 'fair' about the wreckage of his armada's flagship. The pride of the Empire, their first target was meant to be a soft target. Something to convince the rest of the Council Worlds to join the Empire freely. How had it gone so wrong?
"You missed it, then. Piles of shoes. Naked bodies in mass graves. Mushroom clouds."
"What are you talking about, *human*?" The Jozzdi spat out 'human' as though it were a pejorative.
"We humans do work well together, don't we? What you don't know is, we used to put our abilities to use against each other. Your last galactic war, how many of your own died? Ten million soldiers, a few more than that in civilian casualties? Something like a quarter percent of your total population?"
The captive nodded, unsure but nervous as to where this was going.
The lieutenant knelt down, her eyes level with his eyestalks. "The last time humans decided we really wanted war, do you know how many died? Twenty-five million soldiers. Twice that in civilian casualties."
The Jozzdi's eyestalks lurched backwards in surprise. "*Seventy-* Preposterous! Your race has never gone to war since First Contact!"
"This war happened before First Contact," the lieutenant said. "We lost *three percent* of our people. Some of them in ways which would horrify you," she continued while fingering a small six-pointed star on a silver chain worn around her neck.
The eyestalks slowly angled up, an awe in them which hadn't been there a moment ago.
"If we'd known. If only we'd known. We'd have invited-"
The enraged lieutenant slapped the captive. Technically a war crime, but she felt it justified. "And we would have *refused*. Our species grew up on war. War every generation. Conquest, invasion, raids, colonisation. We've grown sick of it, Jozzdi. We know what we can do when we work together, and it isn't pretty."
She turned her eyes skyward, to the burning ships struggling to escape the gravity wells before they exploded, the escape pods bleeding out of the hatches.
"And we will teach the Jozzdi, and the Galatic Council, what we know of war." Her gaze turned back to the Jozzdi. On her face, a smile. Not a friendly smile, though. One which drew on millions of years of evolution as a herd animal... and an apex predator. "After all, isn't war just diplomacy by another means?"
|
"This is your last warning" the translation slate warbled, "turn aside or we will defend our station with all due prejudice. Major Xiong out."
Moments later Xitech's coms erupted into chatter mocking this pathetic human display of bravado. Like a fire worm trying to scare a bird these lanky, pompous idiots flailed about when they should be running. Also "due prejudice"? Only humans would be so obsessed with sounding smart that they'd use such dainty language as death came streaking towards them. They would learn to fear the Skulls Teeth.
"I'm in position to deploy boarders Kirmas Sane-When-Dead." That would be the pilot Raedes Death-Tastes-Sour. "Say the word and we gut this shiny fis.."
Xitecks lander rocked as debris shot out from the roiling plasma ball that was once Yttir Try-And-Die's assault shuttle. Retracting her eyestalks from the blinding flare and retching from the sudden pain Xiteck nearly didn't see a spacesuited human rise sneakily out of an nearby airlock holding some thing that looked oddly similar to a boot. A boot that made a metallic thump as it was thrown onto the pilots canopy and stuck there just a lonely mag-boot an arms length from Raedes' confused face. Turning to his cargo of murderous brigands he chirped "Did, did that ape just throw a shoe at my ship? What the hell is shoe suppose.." a second explosion closer and brighter rhan the first cut off both the unlucky pilot's words and head as the cockpit module turned into a mess of twisted metal and rapidly freezing clumps of.. someone. Without the maneuvering module Xiteck's lander was just a converted cargo crate, so it was now or never.
Taking lead of her small group of stunned marauders Xiteck opened her newly cut doorway into the human station to a dark and gravless hallway. No sign of the boot bomber or any other members of the tall race. Maybe they finally ran away? Hopefully they left their trinkets behind.
Moving cautiously toward the first intersection she accidently walked right into the prettiest nightmare she had ever seen. Multihue laser pulses ripped through the corridor, the team tried to return fire but had to dodge their own blasts as they came careening wildly back from the mirror polished cover the humans had erected in the dark halls.
It only took a few seconds before all of them were crumpled on the deck and simply floating in the zero-g hall, steam and smoke escaping from ruined flesh and destroyed armor. As she watched the smoke from her chest curl slowly away feom her Xiteck Dawn-comes-early realized with horror that the humans slowly coming towards her were much, much taller than she had been told. As darkness closed in she heard one say something but her essence was long gone before the translation slate could finish chirping out it's demand for surrender.
| 2021-03-26T23:51:03 | 2021-03-26T22:30:59 | 21 | 10 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
Death watches as the boy in front of him starts getting excited, blithering on about some competition he had won and gotten an "awesome tool of awesome." The man starts rummaging around his untidy room looking for something.
Out of the closet comes several odd items. Board games, video games, a glass tube with burn marks around one of two openings, some dirty clothes that would have made anyone with a sensitive nose cry out in horror. When the man finally straightens up, he muttered to himself. "Must've stored it under the bed."
Death is fortunately not bound by the pretty laws of time, and this does not feel the need to hurry the emaciated man up. He is, however, able to get bored. Instead of watching the man continue to remove items from under his bed, he looks at the posters on the walls, all of famous musicians. Oddly, it appears that they're all playing a specific instrument, a-
"Found it!" Cries the man. He triumphantly holds out a instrument case. "I won this in a competition a few years back."
Death had never been the musical type, which meant any musician wise enough to use this against him had an advantage in these death games. One day, he'll beat Keith Richards, just you see. He reluctantly opens the case to find a beautiful instrument, one that had clearly not been made by mortal hands. It's shine reflected the dim light all over the room, the pale light illuminating the dark and dusty room. Despite being unused for several years at least, plucking the strings still produced the proper tones. Despite appearing to be made of gold, it wasn't heavy.
"Alright, so let's have a rock off." The man says, clearly getting excited. "We each get a turn on the guitar, and whoever plays better wins."
Death signs dramatically. "Sure, just one question first. Where did you get this?"
"I told you, from the devil, weren't you listening?" The man clears a space suitable for rocking out by bulldozing the myriad of junk out of the way.
"Mmm. Well, Jonathan, are you ready?"
Johnathan grins. "I was the best that ever was. I was *born* ready."
|
I look at the game’s Death has surrounding the room.
There’s the ornate antique marble chess board, polished to a gleam with ivory and ebony pieces.
In stark contrast, right next to that there’s a well loved and worn checkerboard. It has obviously faded areas where players over the years slid their pieces over the board, rather than picking them up and placing them.
There are also many branded board games: Battleship, Connect Four, Monopoly, and *shit, is that...* ***Candy Land*** ?
There are some more modern ones that I’ve only heard of, but never played, like Settlers of Catan.
There are also a glut of various card games, like Uno, Magic of the Gathering, and even *Pokémon*!
Of course there’s also a deck of regular cards set out, and they’re somehow both a void of boundless incomprehensible black like a black hole in which no light can escape on the backs, and a ghastly bone white on the front.
The clubs and spades are more of the depthless black. The hearts and diamonds are glistening blood red.
I am intrigued.
“Go Fish.”, I say.
Death nods.
I think several times about cheating and not telling Death when I have I card, but I know I have a poor poker face. Even when cheating is aloud in the rules, I still can’t bring myself to do it.
Death, sets down four fours, then the aces, then tens. I was only putting down about one set to every three that Death was managing. I was going to lose.
The last sets were made, and there was no need to count them, I was so far behind.
My stomach sunk to my knees.
Death smiled, “You passed the test.”
I blanched, “How so? I lost!”
“You didn’t cheat. The test was whether or not you cheat, win or lose, you pass the test when you decide not to cheat.”
The next thing I know, I blearily wake up to the steady sound of a hospital heart monitor.
-fin
Edit: formatting, again
| 2018-03-07T09:07:30 | 2018-03-07T07:49:56 | 55 | 10 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand.
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"Yes? You at the back?"
"I'm afraid you're entirely wrong, sir."
"Student! Do you cast doubts upon the incredible research of the recent expedition to Earth?"
"Yes, sir, I do. See, I am human myself, and therefore I am in a position to know that much of what you have presented is factually incorrect."
"If you are going to impugn the research abilities of my crew, I suppose it is better to do so specifically. Go ahead."
"To begin with, sir, it is false that humans have never had a war. We have had several throughout our history; indeed, there are three ongoing as we speak."
"Ah, yes. The researchers made a note here. Class, please take note that humans would consider a 'food fight' to be a war if it gets large enough."
"What? No - some of those included nuclear weapons!"
"Bear in mind, class, that the only 'nuclear weapons' that humanity have access to are microwaves, which are used to 'nuke' foodstuffs before fighting."
"And thousands of people slain!"
"Bear in mind, class, that a human can be considered to have been 'slain' by a particularly well-worded insult. The human remains quite healthy afterwards."
"Not that sort of slain!"
|
“Umm, professor” I raised my hand “I think you got a few things wrong.” The Malglak directed its attention towards me “What do you mean Mr. Evens?” “Well, for starters we’re naturally omnivorous not herbivorous” a small gasp came from the professor “Moreover, I’m not sure where you got the idea that we never had wars. I can name twelve that occurred before we even managed to make it onto our own moon.” The class was dead silent until Jill spoke “There’s also been more than a few murders throughout history. My grandfather, well, he personally killed 110 people before he was caught and executed.”
Fanik, my neighbor, looked shocked “But your people don’t exploit resources, right?” I chuckled “That’s unfortunately something humans do all the time though we are trying to repair the damage. Actually, humanity as a species is kind of horrible. A person can be kind hearted, thoughtful and respectful of their environment but as a species we’re just horrible.”
“This lecture is over. Evens, Mills, I’d like to speak with you two alone.”
| 2022-10-17T04:40:25 | 2022-10-17T01:45:57 | 2,063 | 346 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?"
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One day, on my 18th birthday, on my way to school, I saw an old lady sitting on a park bench, watching her grandchildren playing in the park. I felt happy, knowing that no matter how much darkness is in the world, there is always something good to brighten up your day. But then I saw something behind her. At first, it was blurry and dark, but then it started to materialize until it was perfectly clear what it was. The Grim Reaper.
I didn’t know what came over me, but I just walked right up to him. I was scared out of my mind!
I secretively whispered to him, “what are you doing here?”
He seemed surprised by me talking to him. He looked around and said, “well, I’ve been following this woman all day, she will be dead anytime soon.”
I wanted to run away, but my legs wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t move.
Out of curiosity I decided to ask, “is it my time yet?”
To my surprise, he answered my question, “Nope, looks like you’re not due for another...” he took out a clipboard and skimmed through the papers. He found something and pointed his finger on it. “... three thousand, one hundred, and forty- one years? That’s weird. Also, how can you see me?”
I asked, “can’t everyone see you? I just assumed everyone could when I saw you standing there.” I was confused. “Well, now that I think about it, that is weird. If people saw you, they’d try to avoid you to not die.”
Death just looked at me, right in the face, making direct eye contact. I saw his sunken, almost empty-looking eyes, and felt a cold shiver go through my whole body. I felt uncomfortable.
Without even saying goodbye, I walked away. I tried to ignore what had just happened, but I felt his cold, dark eyes, still staring into me, into my soul. I heard a strange noise behind me, like the slash of a blade. I knew that the Grim Reaper has harvested a soul, and the old lady was dead.
In front of me, in a puff of ash and smoke, Death had appeared in front of me, in his dark cloak of suffering. I was frightened. I didn’t like this. I wanted to get out of here.
Suddenly, everything went dark. When I woke up, I was in a dark, warm area. As I regained my conscious, it got warmer and warmer, until it felt as if I was drowned in boiling water.
“Who are you?” Asked the voice of the Grim Reaper.
“Cole. My name is Cole Silverhorn.”
“Another Silverhorn? I thought they were gone.” I heard him cursing to himself, obviously frustrated and possibly disappointed. “What species— what race are you?”
I replied quickly, “human. Just a human. What else would I be?”
“Okay, maybe he is just hallucinating. Do we have any forgetful potions?” I heard him rambling and arguing with himself. “How do I clear this up? This is impossible. I’ll just leave him. He might think it was a dream. Perfect!”
He then turned to me, with a hopeful grin on his pale face. “Goodnight! See you this morning! Or, not. I’m not going to let you see me. Bye-bye!”
He snapped his fingers, and pink glittery particles came off of his hand, flying like dust. Once again, it was dark.
_____________________________________________
WC: 567 words
If this gets enough upvotes (like 30+), I will make a part two, and put a link here. I have a very interesting idea for the ending. So please upvote it!
[Read part 2!!!](https://www.reddit.com/r/stories/comments/fel0h8/the_life_of_cole_silverhorn_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
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I sat there still staring out my window at the sidewalk across the street, as I do most of my nights. Ever since the accident I find comfort in the isolated silence. Most nights I see the same type of stuff, drugs deals, ladies of the night, homeless, just typical stuff for my crappy neighborhood. This night was different though, much different from the usual.
The street was oddly quite, I had not seen a single drug deal, hooker or homeless all night. Then around 3:00 am a dark figure approached the door to the building across the street and stopped. He turned and leaned against the wall inside the door way. Hands in his pockets, at first I thought it may have been a dealer or a junkie trying to get in the building or waiting for the deal to go down. This person was different though, they kept their hood up and I could not see their face even with the light shining right over them. I moved a bit closer to the window to try and get a better look.
Suddenly his head jerked up and was looking directly at my window. No face only blackness under the hood, but I could feel two eyes piercing into mine. He suddenly vanished, I jumped back out of my chair and onto the floor. Scared shitless for the first time since my accident, in fact it was the first time I felt any emotion at all, I began to feel a bit of relief when there was a thud behind me. I slowly stood up and turned around. There he was, the hooded, faceless man from across the street. I fell back into my chair sliding it back against the wall next to the window.
“H-how did you get in here? Who are you?”
The apartment was silent, no whistle of the wind against the windows or the floors creaking from the neighbors pets, or the drip from the sink. It was cold all of a sudden. The faceless man took a step towards me.
“Hello again, you may not remember me but I am the one who saved your life”
Have never seen this man in my life well I cannot be certain since I cannot see his face I hesitantly respond
“What? I have never met you in my life”
“A few months back, you were in a serious car accident.”
Anxiety and anger started to rush through me as I am still recovering from some injuries and hate to talk about it.
“Yeah what about it? I dont remember much from that night. Only driving and then waking up the next day”
The air gets colder as he steps closer to wards me and pulls his hood down an old weathered skull comes into the light from the window. Eyes dark as the deepest depth of space no jaw but could speak eloquently in a soft poetic way.
I was astonished and scared.
“You died in that accident and came to me. You asked me if it was your time. I gave you a choice, you could die now or die at a time of my choosing that I would give you on a later date”
The dreams and nightmares all began to makes sense. They were not nightmares but actual memories from my time with death. All the people dying were those doomed to eternal hell. I could feel a warm stream flow down my leg. I was truly terrified by now.
“Is this my time now then?”
“Oh, no no. You are not going to come to me for three thousand one hundred, forty-one years. However this is the first of many encounters we will have and the start of a wonderful friendship”
Before I could even think of anything to say he put his hood back up and vanished into a cloud of dark smoke and out the window.
WP: not much of a fiction writer, but was interested in this prompt. Feel free to give criticism (preferably constructive) anything helps to improve my craft and hope anyone enjoyed this.
| 2020-01-24T16:18:18 | 2020-01-24T15:51:58 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You come down from the high. Depression kicks in like always since the voices are bound to come back. As you plot your next fix, a voice appears. But this time it's just one. "Hello? Please no more drugs, it's killing us. If you help us, we can make you better, powerful. We can make you a god."
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Lizzy glanced at her cracked nails, the polish fading and flaking, like the paint on an ancient portrait. She was barely seventeen, and still the days before she quit school seemed so distant -- another life entirely.
She wormed her way out of bed, the sheets coughing dust into the air. A tiny sliver of light cut the dark room in half, and caught the shattered mirror on the floor. With the tip of her toe, she covered up the shiny shards with the blanket. She'd accidentally looked at her reflection before and the thing in the mirror had looked back. She didn't want it to see her -- she didn't have the strength to deal with another episode.
On unsteady legs, she stumbled out of the room. Hallway, kitchen, hallway again. Circling the apartment had become a habit. Her body told her to find more drugs -- withdrawal sucked -- but her mind just wanted to stay sober for a little bit. And so she wandered the apartment. Back and forth. Round and round. Anxiously awaiting the return of the voices.
Soon, she heard the first whispers. Hearing voices made you a crazy person, but Lizzy wasn't crazy -- at least not in her mind. No, the voices were the crazy ones and they were real. Not real in the sense that she could touch them, but real enough to scare her and make her cry.
They grew in volume, speaking in a language that didn't belong in this world. Hard syllables -- primeval somehow. Deep and dark. Guttural.
Heart pounding, she reached for the bottle hidden in an empty kitchen drawer -- only two left. It was hard stuff, and more importantly, stolen. Soon, she'd have to go outside and get new ones again. The prospect almost made her cry right there.
She'd tried everything from alcohol to antidepressants, but nothing apart from the red pills with a name that she couldn't pronounce had any effect. Her body suffered the side effects -- drying skin, hair loss, all sorts of internal cramps -- but at least it was quiet.
"Stop," one of the voices said when Lizzy opened her mouth.
She froze. It was the first time any of them had spoken English. Her mouth closed, but then opened again. She didn't want to hear what they had to say -- she just wanted silence.
"No more drugs," the voice said.
"You're not real," Lizzy said, but her lip started wobbling.
"Am I not?" The voice had a smug undertone. "How about we look in that mirror by your bed?"
"No!"
"No more drugs, then."
Lizzy did her best to slow her breathing. "Why should I listen to you?"
"Because... my body is dying. The next pill will kill it."
Lizzy blinked. Sweat coated her forehead, locks of dark hair sticking to her face. A smile crept up on her chapped lips.
"Why shouldn't I kill you?" she said.
"You can't kill me -- I am immortal."
"But you just said... that your body will die..."
"It will. And then I'd have to find a new one, and I kind of like it in here."
Lizzy's eyes went wide. The voice was talking about *her* body. And the worst part was that it was right. The ribs protruded from her pale gray skin and her arms looked like they belonged to a starved war refugee. Her life was nothing but misery, and yet she was desperate to hold on -- to take the next breath.
"Good. Flush the last of the pills down the toilet, and let's go outside," the voice said. " I hunger."
Lizzy shook her head. No, something was very wrong about all of this. A moment ago she had been sure she wanted to go on, but now her resolve was fading rapidly. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, swallowing the pill.
She expected to drown in the shifting darkness as usual -- to be pulled down into the endless abyss -- but something twisted inside her. Her eyes shot up and she retched, spilling heaps of partially digested gruel on the floor.
"No, not yet," the voice said. "I have plans for you."
\*\*\*
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more
|
There are times when all you can do is string one moment after the next, like beads on a rosary. The black hours where it's too late to go out and too early to sleep. You know how this story ends: you're going to give in eventually, so you might as well do it now.
Sometimes, you make a play at holding out. But who are you kidding? You're just drawing out the expectation, and it makes the hit so much better when you edge toward it, sidle up to the edge of the cliff and feel the wind and imagine what the jump will feel like first - feel the fall before it even begins.
This is a holy rite, and you are a devoted follower, and It is your God. That's the Christian thing: to want closeness, to desire the divine.
*I am one with you...you are one with me...*
***
The deliciously warm oblivion begins to pull away. I brace myself for the chorus of recrimination singing their hymns of regret. The first thing I hear is the rumbling of my stomach and I realize I don't remember when I last ate.
I shuffle over to the fridge, feet unsteady on the yellowing linoleum. Two jars of pickles and string cheese. I pull out a pickle, grab the cheese, and begin to eat.
*Can you hear me?*
I start. I had been expecting the usual mantras of shame and guilt, well-worn territory regarding my weakness, how pathetic I am. I hadn't noticed they weren't there until now. A single voice - quiet, wavering. A child's voice. Was she someone I knew? Had something changed?
*Please...no more. You're --* **it** *-- is killing us.*
I feel the chapped spots on my lips as they pull back into a smile. Had something changed - this was second verse, same as the first...
"Yeah, sure kid. I'll get right on it," I said, a dribble of pickle juice sliding down my chin.
I am chewing. Car horns come through the open window. Ms. Ramirez next door coughs up what sounds like about five fluid ounces of nicotine. I finish the pickle and begin unwrapping the string cheese.
*If you help us, we can make you better.*
Ugh. Has a fucking *missionary* taken up residence in my head? I'd rather have the multi-car pile-up of voices telling me how worthless I am. If she starts singing *Come now font*, I swear to God.
"No thanks, kid. I'd rather be broken and happy then whole and miserable."
*No, you don't understand.* Better. *More powerful.*
Well, this is knew. I throw the string cheese wrapper in the vicinity of the trash and head back to my futon. "Like heat vision or something? For what it's worth, I ain't gonna fight crime." I swallow, realize how parched my mouth is, and reach for my water bottle. After a moment, I realize it's on the kitchen counter.
I stand up with a groan, walk back to the other room and grab it. I take a long swig, staring out at the city through the window. "And I should add, if this is one of those bullshit things where you try to convince me I can fly, I'm not taking off from anywhere that isn't the ground floor, because I'm not a fucking asshole."
I bring the bottle back to the futon with me and grab the remote. What does it say that I find the voices in my head so annoying?
"We can make you a god."
I jump up. Standing in the entryway is a girl, about four feet tall. Her corn silk hair falls in a straight sheet to her shoulders, her bangs exposing a dark horizontal line that goes from one side of her head to the other. She gives me a pleasant smile.
"We offer these things to you, Peter," she says, "because we know we are asking a lot. But you must understand...you *are* killing us."
She takes a step forward, then adds, "I will show you."
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds
| 2018-08-15T09:42:30 | 2018-08-15T09:37:04 | 51 | 15 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who.
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I did not know why my parents named me, "smudge," but when I was only 14, I discovered I was not adopted.
Both of my parents are white. But I am black. Tattoo ink black. At least, that is what it looks like from a distance. Freshman year in High School, I was bored and took a look at my hand under a disection microscope in Advanced Placement-Biology. That was the day my whole perspective changed.
You see, while all my friends had one, two, or even three or four names tattooed at birth, apparently I had millions of names microdotted all over my body, with only slight slivers of Caucasian between.
I was shocked as I read a group of names all starting with "I" on my left hand, and starting with "J" on my right... Alphabetical, as far as I can tell...
I begged my parents for an exam, and they eventually caved.
4.5 million different names.
4.5 million!
What the hell is that suppose to mean?
|
We were fortunate that both of these names were on his back instead of a body part he could see. When we bathed him, we made sure he never saw them. When he was old enough to shower and change himself, however, we had to spill the beans. "You are not to look at these names," we told him. I'm proud of our son, he understood the ramifications of seeing the names, even at such a young age. Life has been pretty smooth from that point, friends matching the names have come and gone, but we seldom get worried about it anymore. He's in high school now, his life no different from his peers. He has a very sweet girlfriend, and he keeps saying she must be one of the names on his back. We say nothing, but smile back, reassured that he hasn't seen the tattoos yet.
Edit: Added a phrase to clear up that the parents are NOT supposed to be the names on the back. Also this story is in a universe where only he has the names.
| 2018-03-11T08:30:03 | 2018-03-11T07:37:56 | 636 | 331 |
[WP] "So this is what the people of your world have done with magic. You take cryomancy and call it 'refrigeration'. You take electrokinesis and call it 'wiring'. You take telepathy and call it 'the Internet'. You call familiars 'robots'. You've taken all this magic...and you've made it boring."
|
There was a goddamn portal in my living room.
It was bad enough that I'd had a day at work full of impossibly tight deadlines and tense arguments with my boss, but no, I just had to come home to a living room in complete disarray with a old bearded wizard standing in the midst of it all. Even my grandmother's old lamp was knocked over, leaving the only source of light in the flat that goddamn swirling portal above it.
As soon as he noticed me and my wordless horror, he started on some rant in lieu of any real explanation, telling me he's some wizard from another dimension, Grimblebong or Tindleweed or something--
"Reedlewax," he said suddenly.
"Pardon?"
"I don't appreciate you getting my name wrong, youngling. I am Supreme Wizard Reedlewax."
"You can read my mind? What, are all you wizards telepathic?"
My cat appears in the doorway and immediately winds herself around the wizard's legs. Traitor.
"Ha, what a quaint word for it," he said, reaching down to pet her.
"You know what? I've already had a long day, just tell me what's going on... why are you here? And why did you feel the need to wreck my flat?"
He ignores my question, instead staring off into the distance, his hand still idly stroking my uncaring cat.
"So, this is what the people of your world have done with magic. You take cryomancy and call it 'refrigeration'. You take electrokinesis and call it 'wiring'. You take telepathy and call it 'the Internet'. You call familiars 'robots'. You've taken all this magic... and you've made it *boring*."
My eyes flicker to the scorch marks on the walls, gaping holes exposing the wiring, and my open fridge door in the kitchen. Mr. Supreme Wizard certainly made himself at home quickly.
"Your feline companion is certainly more affectionate than your other familiar," he noted, pointing to the corner of my room. Following his finger, my eyes settle on my roomba quietly but determinedly attempting to clean up the chaos.
"It's not my-- never mind. And who are you to judge modern technology? I bet where you come from it's all leeches and potions."
He chortles. "Looks like that certain misconception hasn't faded over the years. When I was last here, I met the most charming young woman... though she did tire of me after a while."
"You've been here before? Then why are you so suddenly disappointed in our technology?"
"There you go again with that word. Call it magic, keep it fun! In your world there really is just so much fun to be had... I can't *wait* to dig in."
My eyes widen. "Surely you're not planning on staying?"
His laugh answers my question.
"Oh, why wouldn't I? I've got so much to catch up on since my last visit, and no little prison to hold me back now... thanks to your feline friend."
I finally look at the source of the swirling technicolour portal - the shards of glass directly below it. My cat unfurls herself from the wizard's legs and strides back into the other room without a shred of remorse, leaving me alone with the wizard and his darkening smirk.
"So... where shall we go first?"
|
Those we called scientists loved the discovery. There was not an industry in the world that wouldn’t be affected by it. Constantly and incessantly useful in every scenario. The scientists were all over the nets, scheming and planning and making sure that every person on the planet knew what was happening.
Of course, this had happened before. Cryomancy was first, and it surprised everyone so much that for nearly a century we didn’t know what to do with it. Oh good, you can make something cold. Well done, you. Pick up your nobel prize at the door, and register yourself a big ol’ pat on the back. No one cared. And then someone took that power and figured out how to put it in a box and suddenly cuisine around the world was changed forever. Imagine in the before times, where you maybe catch a fish. Can you save that fish for more than a few days? Of course you can, if you salt it and preserve it. But if you don’t like salt? You’re shit out of luck, my friend. Three days later and you’re stuck with a mess so smelly it’d make a skunk proud. But now? Now you chuck it in a magic cryomantic box and it’ll keep for weeks! This is what magic will do for you.
The first person to show any signs of electrokinesis ability was the same. The wise guy thought it was the best thing since sliced bread* and used it more or less exclusively to either torture his enemies by frying their insides, or entertaining his friends by making their hair stand on end. Scientists got stuck into this one too and eventually managed figure out that you could store the power in a thing they called a battery and voila: portable enemy torture devices! Took a little longer for them to figure out the other benefits but these days everything runs off the same kind of thing. They even figured out how to enhance the cryo-boxes with the power of electrokinesis.
This new discovery was going to blow everything out of the water. Someone had figured out how to teleport. Literally move matter from one place to the other, across distances great and small. The military were all over it at first. Imagine if you can teleport a tank inside the enemy general. There’s no defence! After a few short wars it was deemed “inhumane,” but quite frankly those wars would have lasted a lot longer otherwise.
It’s not that we’ve always wanted to make magic boring, but it certainly appears to be our ultimate destination. What is the one thing that we really need faster than anything else? Package deliveries of course! We had one day delivery, but how about instant delivery? You don’t even have to go to the door; instead it’s teleported directly into your house to any place you choose. Of course, there was the small matter of an entire industry of people losing their jobs overnight, but we’ll just gloss over that. Everyone else seemed to, anyway. The scientists, as ever, were livid. They had all these plans and just like every other time, we picked the most boring most convenient application for the occult discovery.
All these magic appliances and advancements only served to create our country’s motto: “Ask not what you can do for Magic - ask what Magic can do for you.”
---
\* Panem segmentis magic. It deserves a story of its own.
| 2021-08-12T12:41:06 | 2021-08-12T10:40:09 | 104 | 48 |
[WP] You decide to prank your newborn kid by having him read Harry Potter series and convincing him it's real and that he is a wizard as well. You fake a Hogwarts letter, drive him to King's Cross station and wait for the moment he crashes into the pillar. He goes straight through.
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I'll admit that I sometimes take pranks too far. But how was I supposed to know?
I started as soon as he hatched from his little egg. Read him bedtime passages from The Philosopher's Stone first, of course, then onto the next book, and the next. Watched the movies over and over with him on my lap. Even called him Harry, just in case.
Next were the clothes. Jumpers, scarves, even cute little tail warmers. The missus thought that was cute, even made a bigger one for my tail as well. Ravenclaw though, I thought Griffindor or Slytherin would be too obvious.
He loved it all of course, thought that Rowling was the best biographer around. And the production value of those 'documentaries'! I made him swear he wouldn't talk about it to his classmates at school, didn't want them giving away the game you see.
And then that fateful day came. I stood behind him at the station platform, smile ready to burst forth when him and his little trolley collided into the brickwork. So, imagine my surprise when, just like in the movies, he just up and slips on through!
I remember going up and touching the pillar, first gently, and then slapping it with my hand, my tail flicking back and forth in agitation. I knew instantly what had happened of course, I knew the stories as well as him, after all.
All I can remember next is tears filling my eyes as I shouted into that innocent looking brick pillar, as I realised what I had done.
"No, it wasn't meant to be like this! It was meant to be a joke, a prank!" I looked around as passers-by regarded me, not understanding. I raised my voice and shouted into the pillar, desperate for him to hear me on the other side somehow.
"No son no, this can't be real, you can't have magic, you can't!"
"YOU'RE A LIZARD, HARRY!!"
|
A rebuttal of a rebuttal, with a continuance.
What a long day.
Of course, funerals do that to you. The cold wet ground. Acting as if remorse is felt, when much of it left, long ago. Two and a half years. That's how long it had been. Barry wasn't the best husband but he had been one, as if that was enough. For years, he fooled our son into thinking the existence of Hogwarts was real. To be fair though, he had went to great lengths to make it seem true. At least he had done that much. I told him often how he needed to tell our son the truth. Some kids grow up believing in Santa, some grow up believing all manner of else. He just had to make our son feel special in that way though. An impossible way.
What would have happened if he had lived? Would he grow up believing life was a lie? Failing to believe in anything, because the one thing he truly believed was torn away? Or would he have grown from it. I'm unsure, but sitting here, looking at his father's grave, right beside his, I feel nothing. No, that's not entirely true. I feel as if I am being watched. The hairs standing up on my neck, as if a cold hand had just brushed along it. But who would be watching now? The funeral was over hours ago. So I steel my heart, and turn around. Off in the distance, beyond the spiked fence then encased the cemetery, a lone figure darts quickly behind cover. But just for a moment, I felt I could clearly make out their features. They felt somehow familiar. As if I knew them. Did I know them?
Hours later, trying to sleep, yet fruitless in my endeavors, I sit up quickly, with a start.
"Barry!?"
| 2018-05-21T03:21:48 | 2018-05-21T02:10:02 | 115 | 44 |
[WP] You have a friendc who buys you gifts that, days later, turns out you need. You figure they’re just observant. In till they give you a giant stuffed bear, to your surprise as it is a fairly normal gift and on your car ride home you are crash and the extra cushion of the bear saves your life.
|
"What do you mean I'm crash" was my first shock, I had just been in my car ride home, and now I'm being told this garbage?
"You are crash bandicot" the wise old sage nodded, for reasons he refused to get into; This wise old sage was a piece of wood.
"No no no, I've played the game. I know how this ends" I denied, but the wooden board wasn't having it.
Before I could even scream in horror too much, the board had plastered itself on my head and my vision was momentarily cut off.
Like a horror dream, everytime I tried to escape; the board would cut off all vision until I returned to the predetermined path ahead of me. I already knew the horrors of this, I've played it.
I died a lot in the game. My greatest fear would be that I would die here, it only made my trials longer and my struggles worse. But I didn't die.
The bear is what saved my life at first, and my mentality. Whenever I felt like crying and giving up, I would squeeze it to death. If it wasn't so heavily cushioned, it would be flat. And if it wasn't there, I would do something suicidal.
I had plenty of time to think about my life, and when I finally reached the last level, the board flew off my head and I found my friend. In the end, I could only spit two scathing sentences.
"OP, what the hell is wrong with you? Why did you try railroad me while limiting my own choices?"
It was obviously OP, had to be. He gave me a teddy because he wanted it to be a crucial focus in my life.
The jokes on him though, halfway through I dumped the teddy.
|
“Greg’s in there?!? OH MY GOD GREG. ARE YOU ALRIGHT??” I heard as Jo’s voice grew increasingly louder. I was still buzzed from the car accident that could’ve killed me if it had not been for that stuffed bear Jo gave me almost two hours before the crash.
“I’m alright Jo. Don’t make a ruckus will you?” I said, still fazed.
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve stopped you from going instead. Why did I even think that stupid bear would’ve been able to help?!?” she sobbed as she kept hitting herself on her head.
“Instead...”
I pondered over her choice of words once more. Instead, able to help and her constant sobbing. Jo was a friend who would go out of her way for you to accept her gift. The 6 dollars I needed for lunch. The ethernet cable for when my router went bust. A couple others that suddenly clicked to how far “coincidence” go.
“H..hh..how? The bear? You knew it was going to...Jo.. who are you?” I stuttered, struggling to get the words out.
Jo stopped crying and just fell silent for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Greg. Get well soon” she said with a monotonous voice as she left the room.
“Wait, Jo. PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT’S GOI...” and everything went white. The next thing I saw was Jo standing in what seemed like a dark room, crying.
| 2018-09-08T03:52:17 | 2018-09-08T03:51:20 | 34 | 11 |
[WP]You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class. 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes.
This could be fun it already has implied racial themes, discrimination and anti-meritocracy. Do with it what you will.
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20 years after the last war, our president died. Most of the country had followed him as a way of clinging to the past. But this was now; we needed a leader, we called for a king. I won't bore you with the details, but we got ourselves into this. King Aleksandre created the system of eye color. He was a Grey. His son, King Aleks II, took the throne after our first king was assassinated at the hands of a Brown.
Obviously, this led to people only wanting to raise kids of their own class or better. There were hundreds of kids being abandoned at six months when their eye color was apparent. Our world had never needed orphanages and now it scrambled to find a solution. Within a year our scientists developed the lenses. Basically, these were color-obscuring contacts that were fused to the eye at birth. The fusing lasted 5 years. When the contacts came off, the child would be placed with his real class and his pre-parents would be rewarded for their good care.
My job as a Color Nurse was to take the infant as soon as it was born and fuse the lenses. No records were made of the eye color and discretion was the top priority. I was born right after the war, determined to be a Blue when the system took hold right around my 20th birthday. It was a fairly lofty class for something I had no control over, but it allowed me to apprentice under a doctor involved in the lense program. I was the first to be offered a position as Color Nurse and have enjoyed my position in the capital city for nearly 20 years.
Tonight, we were awaiting the birth of the prince that would be heir to the throne. The royal family has taken over an entire wing in the hospital. The queen was less than enthused when presented with the lensing paperwork, but the King ordered that his son be treated like any other child. There were a few other deliveries throughout the night and as luck would have it, I was the only CN on duty. This has happened before and it's the reason we put those little bracelets on the kid in the delivery room. Sometimes the babies just get lined up outside my lab waiting to be lensed. I had just collected the baby of a Brown, no father present, when my apprentice alerted me that the doctor was calling for my services to the queen. I pushed the baby carrier into the royal room just as their son was born. The queen reached for Aleks III, but the King shook his head as I took the baby and wheeled him away. I could hear her wailing all the way down the hall, but the law is the law. At least she would be raising her own child. They were both greys, from long lines of greys. Well, we only had 2 generations history and the word of the grandparents regarding their parents’ eyes. But chances are good for this kid.
I took both infants into the Color Lab and was surprised again how innocent and similar babies look even when they are born to parents of completely different classes. I toyed with the idea of switching their bracelets. Good for a laugh, but I pride myself on discretion and timeliness. I moved to the Brown baby first. My apprentice could return him while I handled the prince. I bounced the baby a few times to get him to open his eyes. I needed to scan them for shape and size for the lenses. He opened his eyes and I jumped. Babies always have blue eyes. Always. But not him. His eyes were an orangey amber color bordering on red. Although this color was known historically, it had never been witnessed since the system was put in place. Since we knew it was possible, the king had written into the law that any red eyed baby should immediately be turned over to the royal family. Presumably to take his place in society, but I had my suspicions that it was to eliminate the competition. Babies had died during lensing before, who’s to say that wouldn’t happen here?
I knew what I had to do, I flipped on my *do not disturb* light and lensed him. Then I lensed the prince (blue eyes, as normal) and switched their bracelets. I flipped off my light and called my apprentice in to return the baby to the Brown family. The real prince would go home a Brown, but in five years,if he turns out Grey, he will get placed in his proper class. I took the new little prince and carried him back to be presented to the queen. Like all new moms she cooed over each and every inch of his perfect little body. She even excitedly exclaimed how he had the family birthmark, a small axe shaped mole on his thigh, just like his father.
edit: Part 2 is below as a comment.
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"Today on Utopia News!
Our dear president Jack Harrison, decided to lower the taxes for the Patras. What a wise decision!
Now to the Disaster Relive Center DRC. Will the flooding of the farmland have big conse..."
Zap
"Good morning, dear children of the city Nr.6!
Today we are going to hear about the classes of our wonderful utopia!
First and foremost, the Kassars! Our presidents family has been reigning over our city for already 4 generations and our cuty has flourished as never before. The eyecolor of Kassars is grey! If you ever come upon a person with grey eyes, those are our mighty and caring leaders. Remember children if any of your siblings is born with grey eyes you will have to report it to the next best soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its right place in this world!
Following the Kassars are the Patras. The people of this class have black eyes, which are wuite rare. Male Patras are often consultants or butlers of Kassars. Female Patras work either as maids, cooks or housekeepers in the homes of Kassars. If any of your sibling is born with black eyes please report them to the next soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its rightful place in this world!
Our hardworking and very appreciated third class is Plebos. Citizens of this class have either blue, green or hazel eyes. Blue Plebos work as metchants or craftsmen. Green Plebos are our doctors, intellectuals and scientist, some also are artists.
Hazel Plebos are our soldiers, very loayal and hardworking. Always trying to secure the peace in our city. If any of your sibling is born with those eye colors please report them to the next soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its rightful place in this world.
And the lowest class are Peres. Those have brown eyes. People of this class do all kinds of work. Any work that is left is done by Peres. But don't fret children! Being in the lowest class has no disadvantages at all! If any of your sibling is born with brown eyes please report them to the next soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its rightful place in this world."
Zap
"The Plebos are working to strengthen the great outer wall that keeps us save and also are repairing the inner wall which encloses the city. The area in between, the land that nurtures is going to be untouched, only cultivated by the farmers! The forest however is going to be expanded two miles into each direction taking away that land from the stockfarmers. Also, the breeding of horses, except those in the royal stables, will be discontinued."
Zap
"...ll hail our goddess. Her mesmerizing violet eyes shall bring luck and fortune upon anyone she gazes!"
Zap
As always there is only the usual bullshit on the Tv. I can't stand how perfect they describe our world! So many Peres have trouble finding jobs and if they do have one it pays little to nothing. Many children are starving, only because they were born with the wrong eyecolor. We weren't even allowed to enter the city, much less the inner city! How long are they going to ignore the problems of my class? How am I going to nurture my baby once it's born?! How am I going to hide my baby of the soldiers that regularly and randomly make checks in the Peres living quarters to make sure no family exceeds the two child policy and no girl under the age of 25 has a child. I'm only yet 17, far to young to be pregnant. I'm going to be executed if they ever find out. Living in the outer wall is the worst, only the poorest of the poor live here and I am one of them.
I've found a room in the sewerage system that looks unused. It's been four months now that I've been living here. My child is due and I'm in great pains.
The birth was difficult, but I'm delighted to hold him in my arms. I gazed at his face and then he opened his eyes. I knew it immediately. I've given birth to a rebel, the rebel that can free us from this horrible system!
Ps.: I kinda feel bad, because I'm writing this in a hurry and I only realized around midway how much longer this story should be, so this kind of a prologue to the "actual" story. But I haven't mastered the art of writing yet, so if there are any parts that could benefit from some changes, I'm always open for constructive criticism.
Edit: Misspelling correction
| 2015-08-24T12:35:40 | 2015-08-24T11:12:42 | 270 | 112 |
[WP] Halfway through your flight the pilot makes an announcement. "Would all passengers please close their windows. There is no reason to be alarmed."
For those confused, I mean the window covers
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The sun was setting behind us, or was it rising? My flight was from Korea to NYC, and I had no track of time. It seemed we were over Russia nearing the Artic Ocean. When the announcement came up, I was taking pictures of the snow capped mountains, tinted pink and orange by sunlight.
"Langga, close the window," my mother told me. I did just as I was told. The window in next to mine however was open still. I thought the guy in front if me would close it since it was mostly covered by his seat.
When a flight attendant came this time and told me to close the window, I did just that, except I caught a glimpse of black in the sky before I closed it. A few minutes passed and I was watching a movie and the plane started to shake. Another announcement came up to make sure everyone had their seatbelt on because of turbulence.
It was when the lights were dimming that I wanted to look out the window again, only because it'd be less noticeable if there was still light in the plane. I opened it just a bit. It was dark. It was black, but not pitch black. It was like of you added paints together to make black. A colorful black filled with life, whether it was good or bad. Then some creature splattered onto my window, dark and small. It stares at me. Then it blinked. I in turn blinked. I felt my heartbeat quicken as I quickly but quietly closed the window. I look back at my mother and sister. Em was asleep and my mom was getting there. I close my eyes too.
Before I can fall asleep, I feel the plane tip downwards.
|
Michael was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed to the beautiful ocean of clouds streaking by his window. It had been a long trip, due in no small part to the three days of arbitrage between two competing corporations that he had been forced to observe.
Without warning, his window suddenly popped open, which cleared his ears with a massive pop from the associated drop in pressure.
The rest of the cabin's windows followed suit, and every single item in the cabin suddenly began flying around the area due to the sudden blasts of wind.
Michael sat there, befuddled, as he observed an errant serving tray neatly bisect a passenger's head from her torso, sending the bowling-ball-sized head tumbling into a group of convention-goers, who managed to scream for a bit until they passed out from lack of airflow.
Michael was beginning to get worried, when the Captain's voice abruptly came over the intercom:
"Would all passengers please close their windows. There is no cause to be alarmed."
Upon hearing that calmly uttered announcement, a silence fell across the passengers; they began to close up the windows, even as many of their numbers were sucked out into the frigid air to fall to their deaths.
Eventually, the windows were all secured, and the few surviving passengers returned to their blood-spattered seats, to sit among the strapped-in carcasses of their former seat-mates.
Michael idly began to attempt to clean his blood-soaked suit, and wondered if he could request a small can of ginger ale to assist in the stain-removal process.
| 2016-08-13T08:10:28 | 2016-08-13T08:09:27 | 43 | 16 |
[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
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Rachel and Connor hadn't seen each other since 2011, when they parted ways for what they anticipated would be forever.
It was their sophomore year of college, early on in the first semester, though neither of them would graduate.
Connor dropped out immediately, the grief of his fiancée leaving him was too much, and he couldn't focus.
Rachel tried, but going from living with him to living alone got costly; she had to work.
Before the second semester, she dropped out and got a second job.
Running into Connor again brought back a wave of very beautiful, and very painful, memories.
The best were the little excitements, like his sentimental proposal, and their first date.
The worst though were the things she put him through; all the abuse.
She was terrible to him, even though he insisted she was "perfect."
Rachel wasn't perfect; she was an alcoholic, and she was mean.
She would talk down to him when she was drunk.
She would throw dishes and shoes at his face...
He smiled from across the lot and waved.
Then he ran straight over to her.
He gave her a warm hug.
Then suddenly, he was saddened.
"Why did you leave?"
"I loved you."
"You loved--"
"Yeah."
|
The brand of cough syrup John bought was not right, not for dulling down the day to a drooling stupor. Fun intoxicants were there no doubt, but so were other toxic chemicals that could quite easliy corrode the liver. Down the hatch it went, and have you ever felt a gust of wind smack with extra force? That is John's caution, carried away as he too drifts on toward a dimmer, more complacent place. A dab of drool dances down his slackened chin, a slow retarded walz of ignored spittle. Eyes glaze with shadow of ignorant bliss flick once, twice, and thrice to stay. What a distant good feeling world he is in with all numbnees ahh. Some guy is on his bed and he looks tired or dead. Not a problem for John as John is super good now. Like so nice and where is his pillow, under head? Ah and uh so he's in clouds and sleep. On to somethin how dreams awake but deep. That worked, he love cough syrup. Thick and gross it help. Pain gone, so long. The selfless song. I mumble. Farewell.
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T14:18:10 | 220 | 24 |
[WP] Humans were never meant to be able to draw perfect circles. For millennia people of all ages attempted the feat, from young children to elder scientists - and everyone in-between. After drawing one perfectly on your first attempt, you finally understand the ramifications behind your actions.
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The Resonant Circle made its debut appearance years ago at an art exhibition in Key West. When news broke of the painting—if you could call it that—the world thought it was a joke. The piece looks utterly unremarkable when viewed in any form other than the original. Just a simple circle on a white sheet of printer paper.
But when viewed in person… the Resonant Circle has an effect on people. You can’t stop looking at it. People say it’s the most beautiful, perfect thing they’ve ever seen. They stand there, transfixed, for as long as security lets them. The exhibit itself had to be placed into a recessed wall, away from the periphery of the guards, who would otherwise have been hypnotized and distracted by its effect.
After months of press coverage and a few related international incidents, the Resonant Circle was auctioned for a eighty million dollars. The purchaser was a wealthy woman, but not so wealthy that she was able to afford what she paid. Reports say she liquidated her entire fortune to make the winning bid. Luckily, she didn’t have to live in poverty. In fact, she didn’t have to live at all because a week later the Resonant Circle disappeared, leaving her mangled corpse in its wake.
As an academic, who's devoted my entire life to studying the Psychological effects of art, I was fascinated and excited by The Circle.
As the artist who drew it, I was horrified.
I was just a kid learning to draw owls in art class when it happened. I had just drawn the owl’s body—a circle—when the teacher, Mr. Allen, stopped by to check on my work.
“You drew this?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s so round.”
“I’m good at circles,” I said proudly.
“Look at those curves…” Mr. Allen's pupils had dilated. “They just keep... on... curving...” He stood there silent, his mouth open for a minute.
“Mr. Allen?”
He shook his head. “What? Oh right. Sorry. Your drawing. Nice try but owls aren’t supposed to be so beautiful—I mean round. So... perfectly round... Try again.”
He took my drawing, and I tried again this time making the owl a bit more ugly. I got a B+. It was a pretty unfortunate looking owl.
Over the next few weeks Mr. Allen seemed more and more distracted. He’d developed bags under his eyes, he’d zone out, and as the weeks went on, he grew thinner and thinner. Eventually, he stopped coming to class and we got a substitute teacher. I never did find out what happened to him.
Nowadays, the thought that the drawing might be traced back to me haunts my waking dreams. Every day I'm thankful that I didn't write my name at the top of that piece of paper. If I had, I'd have been kidnapped and killed long ago, just like every other person who had tried taking credit for the drawing.
I don’t draw, paint or even doodle. It’s too dangerous. I’ve seen the effect my work can have, and I don’t want any part of it. That’s not to say I could recreate the Resonant Circle even if I wanted to. I had tried, in the privacy of my own home, and never quite succeeded.
Today I'm a guest speaker at a world-renowned university. “Hello everyone," I said to the class. "My name is Dr. Oloroso.” I wrote the words on the chalkboard. “I'm here to talk about—”
I hesitated. Something felt off. Every student in the room had gone deathly still, fixated on something behind me.
“They're so round…” One of them murmured, pointing at the chalkboard, where I had just written my name and four perfect “O’s.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe
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There is a twisted form of safety in chaos. The insurance that, no matter how much you try to make out an order in the universe, something, somewhere, will break your precise ordering and render it moot. Your life does not have to make any sense if nothing does. You might as well kick back and enjoy the absurd ride that is life.
Look at the smokers and drunkards down the street. They know that notions like health and future and ambition are only dreams born of uncertainty and fear, a desire to live in the illusion. Men and women were deemed mad for casting away the veil, sometimes for less.
But you can't, isn't it? You are too smart, too great, too good to simply accept universal chaos, like mathematicians and grandmasters of chess who either try to rationalize the world by adding new rules seemingly compatible with the ancient ones, or vanish into a smaller dimension where all pieces move after a precise logic. Chess had to be born from a chaotic world to offer an oasis of respite to rationalists.
But you just have to go beyond, to find the rules. And where there are none, you create your own.
The universe started with an atom. A circle, a sphere, but imperfect. You know it, even the finest grain into which you can grind the stars and cosmos remains imperfect. Beyond microscopes and machinery, a black board remains. So many circles on it, drawn by a spirit for which the certainty that no circle can be perfect has to be broken.
You never suspected this imperfection was there for a reason, did you? No you didn't, you just have to forego the why to break the how and recreate the when and where.
An evening, half bored and drawing again on that empty void of your board, you manage to lay down the first rule of the universe. A circle, perfect. As in, for the first time, there was a true measurement for perfection. And the universe, witnessing your creation, follows suit.
Too late you learn that perfection is an infection. But maybe this was the plan. A mathematical plague tailored by a psychorigid cynic. An atom sees - no, *feels* \- your circle and makes itself perfect. Its bretherns know that only the best prevail, and follow suit. those that don't, vanish. Perfect atoms, yet building imperfections. Not for long. Your black board sheds its defects, corners cutting like a diamond knife, surface so smooth you don't know if your finger trails on water.
Horror comes, your mind fills with a torrent of adrenaline, synapses fire up... and die. Fear has no need to be among perfection. If it is, it is perfect, thus does not need to be afraid. If it is imperfect, then it is not at all, and cannot be afraid.
The plague spreads. And from the matter jumps to the immaterial, from the stone to the idea, to the thought. Smokers and drunkards disappear. Art and leisure a distraction, soon disappeared and forgotten.
There is no idle time.
You schedule has not a single second wasted.
Neither are your thoughts, each tailored to advance on some path, daydreaming has never existed.
But you can't even think about questioning the new world now. It would be imperfect. We wouldn't want to suddenly vanish, do we?
There is a terrifying sense of imprisonment in order. Everything is in place. More horribily, nothing is out of place. No self-destructive habit, no unproductive second. The world is a consistent timepiece, you know what movements you will do to the last gasp up until the last second of your existence, for it is a perfect lifeplan, and perfection can be forecast.
Your wish has been granted. Hateful of the previous chaos, you have become the master of the clockwork world. A new set of rules, that binds you and every other being.
Let's hope you can enjoy your creation. Just kidding. Perfection has no need for enjoyment.
| 2021-05-22T09:12:39 | 2021-05-22T08:00:12 | 481 | 187 |
[WP] It's Friday and you're bored at work. You decide to browse reddit and check out /r/WritingPrompt and you start filling out a generic prompt. Little do you know all your coworkers love your writing and are waiting with baited breath for you to finish the story.
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"Jen?" Alex, the technical lead, came up to my desk.
"Yeah?" I minimized the browser window and pulled up my work email, hoping I hadn't missed a request for service.
"Toby's not really gonna join the Storm Eagles, is he?" Alex pulled up a chair and sat beside me, the way he did when he was training.
"Are you reading my writing?" I could feel my cheeks getting hot.
"Yeah! Ali remoted in to update your electronic security system, saw you writing, and decided that it was so interesting that he'd let you finish!"
I stood. Sure enough, Ali from IT was staring at his screen.
"Keep going!" Ali called. "I want to see how mad Aaliyah gets when she finds out that Toby's been talking to the Storm Eagles!"
"Oh my god." I sat back down. "I'm so sorry for wasting everyone's time."
Alex didn't seem to hear me. "Is Toby gonna tell Aaliyah that he's still talking to the Storm Eagles?"
"Nope. Main Character Stupidity Clause. Sometimes the main character has to be a dumbass to move the story along."
"But then how will Aaliyah trust him?" A woman's voice called out from the desk behind me.
"Esperanza, you're watching too? Oh crap, now I'm all self-conscious!" I laughed nervously.
"We know that Toby is a sorcerer. Why doesn't he just destroy the Storm Eagles leader?" Ray, the boss, asked.
"Because then the second in command would step up. He needs to decimate the organization and not get caught."
"Ohhhh." Ray's eyes widened. "Okay!" He clapped once to get the room's attention. "Everyone except Jen is on lunch. Jen, you write for thirty minutes, then take your lunch. I'll get you some Chipotle, my treat!"
"Sure!" I sighed. Nothing to do now but write, and hope it was good enough. "Don't fuck this up, Toby," I whispered as I put my fingers back on the keys.
|
Well shit, guys. I had no idea you read these! Now I feel all "put on the spot" or whatever, jeez. Uh, I mean, not everyone reads these, right? I know Kyle doesn't... I hope Kyle doesn't...
This is super embarrassing, these are more like an outlet than anything else, a way to help me deal with my emotions and troubles and things, you know, kinda like a journal? Except not at all. They aren't supposed to be, like, any good or anything. You guys aren't supposed to read them.
Like last week, that one about the pirates plundering a lost city, except one of the pirates was actually a woman in disguise trying to free her captured love... that was supposed to be a metaphor, like an allegory for... uh... something personal... But now you've all read it and It feels... I don't know, wrong. Invasive. Like someone watching me sleep or something.
And now you all know this, and I know you'll all be combing through my stories, trying to figure out if one of the characters is a reference to yourselves. So, sure, I guess I can save you guys the hassle. The whale from the one about the underwater garden, that was Agnes. And no Agnes, it's not because I think you're fat, I happen to like whales and think of them as gentle but stern creatures, which is you all over, so there. And yes, the police officer in the noir story was supposed to be Adrian, I think you all know WHY. And the one with the butterflies was... about... Kyle... when he shared his chips with me that one time and... and our hands touched when we both tried to grab one at once.
Please don't tell Kyle, I know how he'll react and I'd rather just not deal with it right now... or ever... Agnes, DO NOT tell Kyle. I'd rather just stay in my cocoon forever.
| 2021-03-12T06:20:10 | 2021-03-12T06:18:32 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] It's the year 2100. All humans are raised by machines from birth, and have never met their families. When a person turns 18, they must pick a country to live in. There is one catch: You must pass the tests put forth by that country.
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It is my birthday today and I am turning 17. My friends and I are sitting at a communal table in the Nutrient Room at Hive 5778. Everyone in 5778 has turned 17 or will turn 17 with in the month; its how we are grouped. I have lived all of my life in 5778, and so has everyone I know.
I have never been outside the fence of the hive as everything we need is here. If we get sick, our Mentors heal us. If we need something, our mentors will provide it.
I asked my mentors for a birthday cake this year. It is a novelty to have something sweet and as non-nutritious as cake. Sure enough, when our meals come, mine has a little piece of colorful cake in the corner of my tray. Of course, the rest of my food had a smaller portion in order to accommodate the extra calories of the cake; everyone has their own special food designed specifically for their current needs.
As soon as I finished eating my birthday dinner, my brainMentor switched on: *Go to Mentor office C-77b.*
This was not unexpected. Everyone who turned 17 had a personal visit to a Mentor. C-77b was my Mentor. He seemed kinder than the other's I had met.
I told my friends I had to go and walked out of the Nutrient Room. I walked to Hive Central and took the hall labeled C. My Mentor had an office about half way down the kM long hall.
I stopped outside the closed door and waited. A red light blinked on over the door and seconds later the door retracted and I stepped into the empty white room. As soon as I made it inside, the door closed again.
**SIT DOWN.**
As he gave his command a chair grew from the floor and I sat.
"What can I do for you R2-D2?" I asked. The other Mentors are called by their office number. I called mine R2-D2 because I saw a movie (a special treat for my 10th birthday) that featured a robot with the name. C-77B tolerated my nickname.
**IT IS TIME TO CHOSE WHERE YOU GO FROM THIS PLACE, YOUNG CHILD.**
**REMEMBER: TO LIVE IN A COUNTRY, YOU MUST PASS THEIR ENTRANCE EXAM.**
He waited for me to acknowledge that I knew this.
"Um, ok," I said.
**THIS NEXT YEAR, YOU WILL NOT CONTINUE WITH YOUR** ***MENTOR*****LEARN STUDIES. INSTEAD, YOU WILL STUDY FOR THE EXAM.**
**KNOW: THE EXAMS VARY IN DIFFICULTY. IF YOU FAIL THE EXAM OF THE COUNTRY OF YOUR CHOICE, YOU MUST CHOOSE A SECOND COUNTRY OF LESSER DIFFICULTY.**
"Um, ok," I said.
**I WANT YOU TO SUCCEED WITH YOUR CHOICE OF TEST. TO TAKE A SECONDARY TEST IS HARD ON MENTAL ABILITIES AND MAY HARM THE CONFIDENCE OF SELF.**
**KNOW: HIVE 5778 WISHES TO HAVE GOOD PLACEMENT IN COUNTRIES.**
**KNOW: THE MENTORS WISH YOU TO CHOSE WISELY. SO, WE HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF ACCESSING THE DATA FROM YOUR BRAIN*****MENTOR.*** **WE HAVE CORRELATED THIS DATA WITH DATA OF YOUR** ***MENTOR*****LEARN TESTING AND HAVE COMPILED A LIST OF COUNTRIES WE BELIEVE YOU COULD PASS.**
"Um, um, um, ok?"
**THE LIST HAS BEEN STORED IN YOUR BRAIN*****MENTOR.*** **LOOK AT IT IN THE COMING HOURS. SEND ME A MESSAGE WITH YOUR CHOICE FROM EACH TEIR.**
**UNDERSTAND: THE LAST FOUR COUNTRIES ON THE LIST ACCEPT EVERYONE. THEIR TEST CONSTITUTES OF** **THE QUESTION "WILL YOU COME HERE?" THERE IS NO WRONG ANSWER.**
**UNDERSTAND: THE FIRST 5 COUNTRY ON THE LIST HAS 18 ESSAYS; A TEST OF HISTORY, MATH, PERSONAL LANGUAGE, LANGUAGE OF COUNTRY, SCIENCE, PERSONALITY, COMPUTING, MANUFACTURING, DATA, AND SCIENCE; REQUIRES ACCESS TO BRAIN*****MENTOR*** **DATA; AND A PERSONAL VISIT TO THE COUNTRY AND AN 8 HOUR IN PERSON INTERVIEW. THEY HAVE A PASS RATE OF 5\%.**
**CHOOSE WISELY.**
"I want the first one on the list" I replied immediately.
**YOU WANT** switzerland\*\*? Please confirm.\*\*
Well, here goes, I thought. "Confirmed, R2-D2."
**THE STUDY COURSE MATERIAL HAS BEEN DOWNLOADED TO YOUR BRAIN*****MENTOR.***
**GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR STUDIES YOUNG CHILD. YOU WILL NEED IT.**
edit: fixed italics
|
The major conglomerates got into a position where they were able to buy countries. It started out small like private islands but soon turned to purchasing 3rd world countries. These companies promised their population a better life as long as they work, buy, and live at the corporate facilities. It took years, but soon all major production of goods and services were handled by these *corporate nations*.
These 3rd world countries quickly 1st world countries. Majority of them are more or less self-sufficient, investing in technology, processes, and resources to develop the country and its people. The investment led to products being produced faster and cheaper, which led into selling them to markets around the world at lower prices. Traditional corporations in government countries weren’t able to compete due to slow response from governments in creating new laws and regulations. This would lead into the great *Trade War* and the *Greatest Depression*.
The Trade War was a result of the G20 banning corporate nations from buying/selling goods & products in G20 countries. This was a direct response to several traditional companies closing their operations because they weren’t able to compete. While it helped in the short term, the longer term effects of banning corporate nations turned disastrous when traditional corporations decided to start charging more for their products due to lack of competition. This devastated the global economy and triggered the *Greatest Depression*.
While the government controlled countries were dealing with the effects of their own regulations & laws, the people in corporate nations suffered. The corporate nations started losing profits due to the ban of sales in other countries, as a result they had to increase their own prices of products. The increase of prices caused workers to work longer hours in order to survive, it was the cycle the people found themselves before the corporate nation. Work, in debt, work more, and die. Like most companies, these corporate nations only cared about the bottom line. Even after the greatest depression when the corporate nations found out how bad they can treat their people without a risk of rebellion, they continued to keep these new work hours and prices.
When consumers can no longer afford to work and buy products in government run countries, traditional companies started closing down again. This led to corporate nations wanting to buy out closing companies and add them to their large umbrella of networked companies. Nations like AppleMart, Alphabet Inc, and ToyotaFoods started purchasing large amounts of closing companies just so they can shut them down, since they weren’t allowed to operate in those countries. This would soon lead to countries selling off chunks of land to these corporate nations for expansions, places like Alaska and Hawaii were soon no longer part of the United States. Over the next decade, majority of traditional governments have sold off their countries to different corporate nations and have become obsolete. Now these conglomerate corporate nations are alone together, they warred against themselves.
War advances society through technical advancements and achievements. Alphabet was already automating the process of birthing humans in order to create more workers, this process was tweaked to make soldiers. Humans bred to fight through enhanced experimental treatments and hormones. AppleMart relied heavily on their personality questionnaire, that’ll place people in their optimal career. The war itself was uneventful and led to the great merge, uniting all corporate nation into a one world Conglomerate.
This is where society is now.
Over 75% of the world is owned by the Conglomerate nation. 15% of the world have been developed as a wasteland for exiled citizens of the Conglomerate can roam and live off of. The other 10% of the world is filled with self-sufficient countries that have a government type system in place like China, Russia, and tribes in Africa.
In the Conglomerate nation, everyone is birthed and raised on a farm. Mothers & Fathers are replaced by machines, and when they turn 18 they’re given a choice. Work for the Conglomerate or become exiled, as long as one passes a personality test they’ll be able to do whatever they want.
I chose exile.
----
I walked in one direction for as long as I can manage, convinced I’ll eventually find something. Ruined cities, ghost towns, and resource drained land were already purged by the thousands before me. Eventually people found me and welcomed me into their co-op.
The co-op is a democratically run society, everyone providing for everyone without the forced labour and quotas. It’s what the corporate nations first represented, an easier way of life while working for the great good.
I became a historian, and was sent from my co-op to travel the wasteland and meet with other co-ops. Eventually I even met with the government officials of Russia and China, and when I told of our new process they both answered the same way, but in different languages.
*Welcome to the family comrade.*
| 2018-06-19T14:54:58 | 2018-06-19T14:52:14 | 352 | 224 |
[WP] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the "happiest" life possible. Some of these choices get hard to make.
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> Now say that you won't just kill **them**. You'll also kill **their families**.
I stared at the words on the terminal in disbelief. My hands hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to reply, but... holy shit. How do you respond to an order like that??
"I can't do that!" I typed back. The keys clacked as I wrote it; the keyboard was very old. The computer and all the hardware was an old Tandy Color Computer back from 1981. You'd think I would have upgraded by now, but my Oracle preferred to stay in here. And who am I to question its orders? In nearly forty years, it really hadn't ever steered me wrong. So we stayed with this one. Everyone thought I was weird for keeping it in my office, but I just explained it away as nostalgia.
> You won't **actually** have to kill their families. You just have to threaten them.
*Oh, well that's so much better*, I thought. *Just threaten to murder innocent women and children. No big deal*.
"You know what," I wrote back, practically pounding on the ancient beige keyboard, "That's it. That's it, Oracle. I'm done with this whole thing. I quit." My hands shook as I wrote it, and my heart was hammering against my ribs. I'd wanted to do it for so long, but I just never could work up the courage to let go.
Oracle had guided me through life since I first got the computer in the 80s. Some kid at Radio Shack told me it would give me good life advice and sold it to me on a floppy disk for two dollars, and I've never been one to pass up a good deal. I figured that at worst, it was just some piece of junk that wouldn't really do anything. This was before viruses and malware were really a thing. So I popped in the disk, and it told me that I should start brushing my teeth twice a day instead of just once.
Every day, it was a new piece of advice. Just little things to begin with, like changing up my hairstyle or whatever, but it eventually gained my trust and started meddling more and more with my life. It gave me business advice, stock tips, real estate intelligence, and relationship advice that was always sound. Years later, I've got more money than I ever thought I could make, and I've got a beautiful family. A gorgeous wife, five wonderful children, a great job that I really enjoy... I've got everything. Fame and fortune, with none of the drug problems and mental breakdowns that usually seem to go along with those two. And yet the Oracle kept pushing. It told me that my life could always get better. That it knew exactly what to do. And so I listened. I followed along blindly, and it's led down a dark path to this.
Oracle has made me do terrible things. I've destroyed people's careers, I've humiliated people, said horrible, nasty things that I really didn't mean... but this? Threatening to *kill* someone's family?
> If you leave now, it will all be wasted.
The words flashed on Oracle's screen in dull green. There should be a name for that greenish color from before computer monitors could actually display real colors. I'd call it "80's green."
> Everything that you've built will crumble. You know that I am right. And you can make the **world** a better place if you just follow my orders. I've never let you down before.
I should have just left right then and there. I could have stood up from the chair and walked out of the room and never looked at Oracle again. Just spent the rest of my life lounging on a sunny beach in Florida or something. But I didn't. I hesitated.
That night, I got up on stage and took the mic in front of thousands of cheering fans. "And we're not just going to hunt down those terrorist bastards in ISIS," I shouted. "We're gonna go after their families, too!" My stomach churned just uttering the words: I was suggesting a *war crime* like it was a good thing! But of course, the crowds ate it up. Hell, they'd applaud for anything I did nowadays. I could probably shoot someone on 5th avenue and they'd cheer. Once the thunderous wave of clapping died down, I spoke into the mic again. "Thank you, Iowa! Let's make America great again!"
----
I hope you enjoyed it! If so, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons more!
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*Wear a onesie every night, and do not eat two hours before going to bed.*
"What?" Kelly asked as she leaned over the coffee table, trying to peer at the screen of the device. Jordan was sitting with his eyebrows knit together, the device held firmly in his hands.
"It says, 'Wear a onesie every night, and do not eat two hours before going to bed.'"
"What kind of bull is that?" Kelly took a sip of her wine. She carefully placed it down on the coaster, remembering the device's earlier warning of *avoid ring stains.*
"Maybe you didn't ask that genie as specifically as you should have," she added after a moment of reflection. Jordan shrugged and put the device back on the table.
"Look. I asked the genie to give me a map to happiness and this is what he gave me. I mean, what's the harm in any of this advice? So far all we've learned is that we should use coasters and that we should wear onesies."
"And not eat two hours before going to bed."
"Do you think it means *sleep* specifically, or should we wait two hours before we..."
"*Jordan*," Kelly laughed as she finished the rest of her wine and put the empty wine glass back on the coaster. Jordan leaned forward to look at the device as words started to scrawl across the screen once more.
*Wash your dishes immediately after use to avoid grumpiness.*
"It's like a fortune cookie and a magic 8 ball had a fucking baby," Kelly picked up her wine glass and went to the sink, washing it out and putting it on the drying rack before she came back and sat down on the floor once more.
"Look. I know this seems weird but...maybe we should try it, you know? I mean we're looking for happiness and this seems like the best place to start. Maybe it knows what it's doing."
"Or maybe we're just some weird genie psychological experiment."
"Maybe. But I mean, would it really be so bad to get some onesies?"
For the next two weeks Kelly and Jordan followed the device's instruction to a T. They both bought onesies - Kelly's had flowers and Jordan's had spaceships. They both stopped eating two hours before going to sleep. They both talked openly about their feelings (the fifth day had brought the wisdom *He is probably just as confused and angry as you are.*) They washed their dishes immediately after use, and they always used coasters.
*Those who go quit together stick together.*
"What does that mean?" Jordan asked one night, his head resting against Kelly's shoulder. "Quit what?"
"Using the happiness device? Our jobs? Carbs?"
*Carbs are soul food in moderation.* The device told them.
"Maybe the city?" Jordan guessed. He held the device in his hands, but it offered no more wisdom. "Maybe our jobs? But you love your job. I can't see you being happy if you quit it."
"But you love the city," Kelly leaned over to press her lips against Jordan's. She lingered there, her hands trailing up over his arms and to his shoulders, curling into his hair and tugging slightly as she pulled him against her. As they parted, breathless, Jordan pressed their foreheads together.
"I love you more," he said. "And I've never felt closer to you than I have lately."
"Well who else do you know that wears a onesie with you?" Kelly laughed.
So they packed up their things and sold their apartment. They moved forty-five minutes out of the city into a two story house with three guest rooms.
Two weeks turned into two months and two months turned into a year, and still they were following the device. They both felt happier and closer, more open and honest, and rarely ever grumpy. They made their bed in the morning and tidied as they went. They made dinner and switched off on chores. They took out the trash to prevent arguing about it later.
"Our lives are almost perfect," Jordan whispered into Kelly's ear one night, his arms tight around her midsection.
The device chimed. With a groan Jordan reached over and grabbed it, pulling it to them and looking at it in the darkness. "Kelly," he said. She glanced over.
*Tomorrow, buy a pregnancy test.*
----
~fin~
I guess I kind of missed out on the 'some of the choices are hard to make' aspect. Sorry about that.
For other stories, including a current series about An Elite School for Thieves, check out /r/Celsius232
| 2016-05-05T05:59:46 | 2016-05-05T04:50:11 | 4,927 | 322 |
[WP] Reincarnation is a known, common, and expected result of death. You are a bounty hunter that specializes in tracking down people who have committed suicide to escape debts or a jail sentence.
|
"What is that?"
"It's your wife."
"It's a fucking frog!"
I looked at the fat, muddy brown toad sitting at the bottom of the cage. "Yes, a frog that was once your wife."
"How do you know that's her?" the man crossed his arms and adopted an accusatory tone. "She wouldn't become a frog. She was a woman!"
"Look," I rubbed my eyes. "Just let me come in, we can discuss it."
"She should be human! At least! She wouldn't be a fucking FROG!"
"I know it can be difficult to accept, but trust me. I've been doing this for eighteen years. This is your wife," I raised the cage so the husband of the amphibian could look straight into its bulging eyes. "And not a frog, sir. Technically your wife became a toad."
"Bullshit."
"Sir, could it be that your wife wasn't quite the saint you thought she was? I mean, granted, it's not often that a human reincarnates as a toad." *She must have been a real piece of shit.*
"What-what do you mean?" he said, staring into the toad's eyes.
I could see it slowly dawning on him, the inescapable realization.
"I mean that, as you know, the incarnation ladder goes either up or down. The direction a person goes comes down to their character, how much they did or did not grow as a--"
"I know that," the man spat. Then he softened. Tears welled up in his eyes and his bottom lip quivered.
"The first thing I do when tracking somebody down, is determine whether they've moved up or down the ladder. Most people move up, but for most people, the move up is fairly small. They become another human, usually with slightly better life circumstances."
The man broke eyes with his toad wife and looked into mine.
"Your wife, I found out, wasn't exactly destined to move up the ladder. In fact, I went to great lengths to ensure I had the full scope of her life. I interviewed you extensively, as you know. I talked to her friends, her acquaintances, her co-workers. She rated at a negative twelve on the Reinhurst scale. That moves a human down to amphibian. I searched locally, since most negative twelves reincarnate within three miles of their death. There's a swampy gully at the end of your street. I played her favorite song. You said it was Thunderstruck, right? ACDC? She came over within the hour of continuous play. And here you are."
The man looked back to the toad, verging on tears.
"Look." I rested the cage on the ground and opened it, swept the fat toad out and tipped it over. "Her birthmark." It was a small music note shape near the groin.
"OH GLORIA!" The man grabbed the toad and hugged it, tears streaming out of his stupid, sobbing face.
I backed away down the stoop. "I'll bill you."
*Goddamn*, I thought, heading back to my car. *I hate these filler side gigs...*
|
When you reach a certain age, you start to feel like you've seen everything. In my case, that means money launderers reborn as elephants and two-time murderers who ended up in fishbowls.
People like to think they know how they'll be reincarnated, but most of these jackasses are too stupid to notice the writing on the wall. You can plan the greatest heist in the world, but if you've got enough shitty karma built up it's gonna be bad news.
You see, the universe has a keen sense of irony. If you did a hit and run, you'll probably end up as a snake or dolphin or something else without legs. I start with the basic facts of the case and go from there -- most people end up just a few miles from where they offed themselves.
Then there are the surprises.
To be honest, human reincarnation isn't all that uncommon. In the criminals' case, they start off with a blank slate but gradually recall what they've done in their past life; the guilt sets in around eight or nine. That's when they start to shit their pants.
I let 'em age for a while. Let 'em get comfortable in their new skin and pretend everything's all right. Then when they hit thirteen I make the arrest. Seems wrong to throw a kid in the slammer but then I remember what they did and my own guilt washes away.
That was all before I met the one-year-old.
The kid was sitting there cooing at me. Spike Lewis - embezzled millions of dollars from the county orphanage, lived large for a couple years, then killed himself when the fuzz started to close in. I figured out where he reincarnated twelve years before, but, as usual, waited for the right moment to turn him in. Why wasn't he a teen? And where the hell were his parents?
The pieces started to come together. A shack in the middle of the woods, total isolation, abysmal living conditions. Yet here was this perfectly healthy child, blissfully unaware. Didn't even seem to have shit himself recently.
He was alive in stagnation. No food, no water, no nothing. Taunted by his own karma.
So what the fuck was I supposed to do? For a number of reasons, I don't kill the cargo - just gives 'em another shot in their third, fourth, fifth life or whatever. So yeah, not gonna kill an infant and it seems he was incapable of dying anyway.
I picked him up, wrapped him in a spare cloth sitting atop a beat-up dresser, and took him to Cumberland County Orphanage. Seemed weirdly poetic. Maybe they would have some idea what to do with a perpetual one-year-old.
I forgot about the case for a while, but then I dropped in two years later. Lo and behold - three-year-old reincarnated Spike.
"He's a handful." That's what one of the caretakers said. "He's a handful but getting better."
When I caught a glimpse of him, it looked like he hated his life. But who knows - maybe when I check back in another five, ten years he'll actually be all right.
The universe has a warped sense of humor, but it's not incapable of mercy.
| 2017-07-09T10:24:06 | 2017-07-09T10:04:39 | 5,471 | 387 |
[WP] You've never felt the same after learning Morse Code. The rain keeps telling you to run.
|
Your eyes have never changed. Ever since you were a little girl, your eyes have been the color of a thoughtful ocean: churning, stormy, one weather system away from order or chaos.
Even now, your eyes look the same. You're 27 years old, and I've been dead for 15 of those years. And even with the distance of death and time—even with that purple bruise blackening your eye—your eyes look the same.
Now, the sea is full of storms.
My wild girl. My mermaid child.
You stand on the back porch and smoke a cigarette. The rain plinks down, and you watch it. Your cheek is hot and red.
I'm only a ghost, but I still reach out to cup your face in my palm, like any good mother would.
Perhaps you feel it. Perhaps you don't. You smear that cheek against your shoulder and pull again on the cigarette.
When he hit you, I reached out then too. I moved to cover you with my body. But he punched through me like mist, and I could only stand there, a shadow of myself, and watch the man you call husband toss you like a child throwing a toy.
If the dead could kill, I would do it myself.
A door slams in the house. You jolt and look toward it. Your fingers shudder as you inhale your slow death.
Do you remember the game we used to play?
We would build a blanket fort in the living room and, on weekends, stay up watching movies or telling scary stories. And sometimes, we would close our eyes, and we would take turns tap-tapping secret messages on each other's arms. I taught you each letter, one by one, until we could pass words back and forth.
On your first day of middle school, when you were fighting so hard to be brave, you gripped my arm and finger-tapped *SCARED*.
And I tapped back, *BE STRONG*.
Now I cannot touch you, not exactly. Not enough. But I can do this.
I can gather water in my palms. I can bring it to you and let it drip, slow, careful. So careful.
You turn your stormy eyes down in mute shock, watching the water fall from nowhere onto you.
I say, *RUN.*
You shiver, but you don't wipe the water away. You look at the porch roof overhead, then at your skin, and somewhere in the distance. Like you're scanning the sky.
I do it again. *RUN.*
Your cigarette slips from your fingers. The oceans in your eyes draw inward, the breath before a tsunami.
"Mom?"
I turn away from you to gather more rainwater. I cannot touch the living, but if I focus the core of my unbeing into my palms, I can manage this.
"I can't. I can't do any of this."
You can. Every time I have seen that doubt and fear in your eyes, you have braved the next wave. You've kept going, on toward the horizon.
I do the only thing I can.
I drip-drop onto your arm: *BE STRONG.*
Your eyes lift to stare into mine, as if you can sense my face without seeing it. You crush the cigarette beneath your boot and leave it there.
Your husband is inside. Your wallet, your keys. But you have your phone and your heart and your will to live and you must run while you can, run like hell, run like the next time you walk through that door he really will go too far and hold you under that ocean until you're gone.
Run like you still have a mother to run back to.
You look back over your shoulder, at the door. It's a cold, dark night, and you only have on your jeans, your shoes, a hoodie.
But you venture out into the backyard anyway, moving like a convict in your own house.
You reach the fence. You climb over.
The rain is falling heavy on both of us now, as if the sky is tapping out on us *live live live*.
But you go, and I follow.
Like I always have. Like I always will.
Any good mother would.
|
“Run, Run, Run, Run. That’s the message the rain is sending to everyone.” I made my point to the empty lounge chair beside me, staring out at the rain, watching it splash against my window, coating it in various little droplets of water. “I don’t get it, it can’t be a coincidence. It’s happening at regular intervals. If it were pure coincidence, we would have had something that diverted the pattern and yet it just keeps repeating run.”
I was almost thankful I lived alone, wondering how insane my train of thought must have sounded to an outsider. Surely, I wasn’t the first to notice. I know morse code isn’t widely used anymore but there have to be enough people that could recognize the pattern, especially when it’s happening outside. Keeping my face pressed against the glass, I observed the raindrops, feeling the cool glass sting my cheek as I pressed myself further against it, in awe of the phenomenon outside.
“Why run though?” I felt a few conspiracies slip into my mind, unable to keep the thoughts out. Maybe it was a secret government project that got out? An old war command that induced a sense of fear into the enemy. Imagine being hunkered down in a trench and suddenly the rain is telling you to run. That would freak out even the most battle hardened of soldiers. Or maybe it was something more devious? A plan to drive people insane through the repetition of the same sound.
The longer I listened to it, the more the feeling of dread set in. I was a rational person, a person who wanted to be a historian and was studying for that role. I was far too intelligent to let myself fall for paranoia induced dread. Trying to ignore the sound, I turned on the tv only to minimize the amount of rain I heard. Yet, my eyes always ended back at the window, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
The comparison didn’t help ease my mind, either. I kept myself pinned to the window, my eyes roaming the streets, trying to avoid catching sight of the droplets. When my gaze finished exploring the roads, it worked its way up to my neighbor across the road. The old, keg bellied man staring out of his window, his eyes wide as he shoved himself against the window frame.
I watched as he shoved his shoulder against the wall, trying anything he could to move. It was nightmarish, my skin crawling at the sight. “Tim?” Tim was his name, wasn’t it? I didn’t know the man well and still I felt compelled to shout at him through the shut window. “Tim, are you ok?”
It was only for a moment that our eyes made contact, his eyes bloodshot and exhausted, his flailing now an exhausted rocking, like a fish that had just been reeled in. He opened his mouth only for his window to smash into tiny, fragmented pieces, causing him to fall back.
I needed to call an ambulance. Turning to free myself from the window, I found myself trapped, unable to move. Goosebumps soon littering my arms as I flailed against the window. The flailing only lasted a few seconds before I felt out of breath. I gazed back at the window, only to stare at the horror before me.
Its skin a transparent pale, only being given form by the rain that dripped from its body. Each droplet revealing some new horrific feature. Its mouth protruded, a long sucker that I could only assume hid thousands of tiny pincer like teeth. Its body hunched forward, elbows pointed outwards, with its clawed hands sitting by its chest.
When it noticed my lack of a struggle, it crept forward. I gave the wall a defiant kick but still was kept against the wall, unable to avoid the nearing creature. I could only wonder who was warning us about them, having a feeling that their warning was far too late as the window cracked before me.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-09-28T09:13:08 | 2021-09-28T08:46:07 | 2,222 | 81 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
I will not do it on a train
I will not do it on a plane
I will not do it in a house
I will not use a single mouse
I will not dangle from a cord
I will not shift a single board
I will not puddle on the floor
I will not seal a single door
I will not leave a single note
I will not hint in things I wrote
I will not leave a mess for a friend
I will not let them see this end
I will not leave them asking why
I will not let them have their try
I will not be grinning ear from ear
I will do nothing more than disappear
|
The time has come to say farewell,
I doubt I'll do it very well.
The skills involved I lack you see
They, like my life, were not to be.
I'll miss the sky, the purple tree, my last blue pie, my last high tea
I will not cry, I will not try, I will not swim, I will not fly
I never could, I never should,
death comes soon,I hoped it would.
I draw my last and gasping breath,
green eggs and ham will bring my death
this note I leave for all to see,
life goes on, but not for me
| 2015-01-17T11:47:28 | 2015-01-17T09:07:52 | 42 | 29 |
[WP] You were an "evil" king who has been dethroned by conquering heroes for your "horrible tyranny". It takes less than 2 years for the people of the kingdom to be begging for you to be reinstated as king.
|
Sunlight glistened on the marble pillars, creating a dazzling display of outlandish colours and geometric shapes. The smell of crisp of bacon and fresh bread filled the room. A gentle tapping of scuttling servants feet alerted the deposed king to arrival of his breakfast but instead of bacon, he found himself staring down at the piggy face of Duke Kalmar.
"Your grace." Said the portly Duke clumsily falling to one knee.
"It's been a long time since I was called that." King Reynard snorted. "So what the hell do you want from me."
"Your grace I only wish to serve." The duke replied abashed.
"Where was your service when they took my throne? Where was your sword when they killed my son? Where were you when I was left to rot in this prison?" King Reynard ranted. "Your service is only given to those who can further your own ambitions. So I ask again what do you want from me?"
"You wound me sire." The Duke said feigning offence.
"Anymore of your falseness and I will wound you. I won't ask again. The army may have betrayed me but I assure you my guards are still loyal." The king said gesturing to the armoured figures flanking the room.
Sweat beaded the portly mans head. His hands shook as he dabbed himself with a handkerchief.
"We ask you to be a king again."
"Are these magnificent heroes of yours not working out as you hoped." The king laughed.
"They're tyrants. They usurped the throne and abuse your people." The portly man bellowed before being cut off.
"And who helped them usurp my throne?" The king asked flatly.
Duke Kalmar shuffled uncomfortably, the beads of sweat on his forehead turning into a raging river.
"No clever comeback, no excuses or pleas? I am severely disappointed my good Duke."
"Please your grace only you can help us, the taxes are destroying us." The duke pleaded.
"It always comes down to money. It's funny how a few percent can suddenly turn a king into a tyrant." The King said eyeing the duke. "However I will accept, swear me your fealty and I will be your king."
"I swear it your grace. You have my sword from this day until the end of days." The Duke said producing his blade.
"Excellent. Now I have a command for you."
"Anything your grace."
"Plunge your sword into your own heart and prove your loyalty."
|
I sat in my chair out in the woods enjoying my morning Elvish tea when the first group popped up. They looked ragged and starving, their clothes in tatters that barely managed to cover their bodies. It looked shameful
"My lord!" The one who I assume led them to me said in a raspy voice with what looked like a renewed vigor in his eyes. "We've been looking for you, we need you back." He said before I could even put my tea down, rude and shocking. I was the Cleaver of Floria, the slaughterer of Tazan, and the worst tyrant in history, or so the history would say. "Why you need me?" I said as I carefully put my tea to the side and leaned back in my chair. "The land and its people are struggling." The man said as he got closer, another look and I was able to he was more than starving, his ribs went past his abdomen. "I take it that your new rulers don't understand the hardships of running a country?" I said with a smirk, I knew this would come.
Everyone thinks they can just run a country with the support of the people, they don't know about all the backroom politics, the backstabbing, broken promises. They can't comprehend the false allies, the reason for atrocities to keep others from swarming us and ruining our lives. The naive don't understand that hard decisions need to be made for the greater good of the country, if a few small towns have to starve so the rest can be well fed, then so be it. I rather some starve and die off quickly, then the entire country die of starvation slowly.
​
I bet they can't even handle the rebellious, they don't know how to knock down those who challenge their status quo. They have believe that they're just like them but misguided instead. They love their people, but not enough to recognize that sometimes you have to chop off the finger to save the hand.
​
Oh, I dazed off for a second and didn't hear what the man had to say, I just saw a sad but hopeful look in his eyes, like a puppy left on the side of the road with no food. "I guess it's about time to teach these green horns a lesson about running a country, and about how defeat can humble you." After all, I know how to lose on purpose, but I also know how to win tenfold.
| 2021-03-30T13:20:21 | 2021-03-30T12:27:14 | 285 | 65 |
[WP] You have been told all your life that you have a rare medical condition. It means you need regular special meals that your family has lovingly prepared. You now find out that your "condition" actually requires fresh human flesh and your family have become serial killers to keep you alive.
|
There was blood on the bottom of my sister's sleeve. That's when I knew. It was the last clue needed to click everything into place. "They would kill for me," were my first words.
The largest clue before that was their meditation room. You see, they claimed to have become a part of the Church of Scientology despite knowing I absolutely detest that belief structure. There was no way in hell I'd go near the spare bedroom turned into a faux-scientific worship center, or whatever you call that kind of thing.
Sarah smiled and asked me if I wanted my medication. I couldn't just give away my new knowledge. I had to play along.
I tossed my head back and swallowed the puree. It didn't taste bad, but I almost threw it back up knowing there was a blend of stem cells, organ linings, and likely some hormone extraction.
You see, I did some research. I'm stuck home most of the time, and the side-occupation of my one sister and two parents indeed takes a long time. That means I have time to myself. They keep their worship center door locked (in triplicate) when I'm away, but there are other clues that led me to my realization.
They had convenient books laying around. My sister and parents all conveniently formed a passion for witchcraft as well as human anatomy. They'd sit down for one hour per week to watch a show on how the human body worked, making stale commentary as I'd be on the other side of the room on the family computer learning basic programming languages.
I knew they were doing this to fool me. They didn't need to watch the show to understand how to dissect and portion out their victims. "Wow, I did not know that!" Sarah said. That was another major clue. Of course she knew that. The book underneath her bed cushions -- locked by the small key tucked away in her vanity cabinet -- had a distinct purple underline within the chapter of rigamortis.
Despite realizing my family is a well-coordinated trained team of serial killers has given me a lot to think about. It has increased my appreciation for them.
I will continue playing my act, just as they continue playing theirs. This is the first time in my life I have felt an overwhelming sensation of love.
Perhaps one year I'll be able to join them. It actually sounds fun. The people they target fit two criteria. One, they don't deserve to be alive anymore. In the past three months I secretly identified the identity of several abusive YouTube commentors. And there was another sex offender with several child-related infractions.
They're doing God's work.
And you want to know what's behind that locked door? I found out when finally breaking in last week.
The remnants of dissected corpses ... and pictures of me.
|
Perhaps I always knew, but I simply chose to ignore. Maybe even deep down I enjoyed it. Envied them for being able to do what I had dreamed about for so many long nights. The screams which had eventually terrified me were now something I looked forward to each night. But I wasn't ever sure if they were dreams or reality.
What I found even more intriguing was how you both hid it from me all these years, so diligently going about your daily lives, as though everything was fine. But it wasn't ever the same, was it? This facade that made me believe I was normal...yet something was always missing. I always wondered why the food at my high school cafeteria made me throw up. Why the flesh of other animals was never the same as that which was prepared for me at home. Why people seemed to hate me, just for existing. Why I lost friends as easily as I made them. Why I felt so alone, even though I had the two of you.
Perhaps I had chosen to block it from my memory, but I remember that night now. Karen was the last friend I had in kindergarten. We'd play house together everyday. The tea and biscuits she made were like thorns on a rose. So badly did I wish to grasp the rose, if only for just a moment, that I was ready to pierce myself with as many thorns as need be. I hadn't eaten the meat in a few days. Maybe I had already realized back then. Every time you'd bring me food, I'd say, "I'm not hungry." Of course, you both were worried. Then I came down with a fever. Karen stopped coming over. I lost another friend and so loneliness and hunger got the better of me.
You both knew what was going to happen. How this was all eventually going to end? Yet that didn't stop you both. Hah, maybe the routine had hit hard. Now it was all just like grabbing a morning cup of coffee. And those screams I dreamed of were more real then anything you ever said to my face.
But as I lie here between your rotting corpses, I realize. You wanted me to live, no matter the cost. I guess that's what parents do. From the moment I was born, your lives were no longer yours. I am now truly alone. But I shall survive. Your last sacrifice will not have been in vain. If the world chooses to hate me, then I shall show them what true hatred really is like, for I have nothing to lose. Now, it's my turn to survive and for the first time I can truly say, "I am hungry."
| 2019-03-13T08:00:21 | 2019-03-13T07:36:21 | 102 | 23 |
[WP] You stumble upon an old megaphone in an antique shop and jokingly pick it up and say, "Everybody listen up!". Later that night, the news headlines read, "We're all listening for what the voice has to next say next!"
|
I went back to the shop, picked up the megaphone and said
“Everybody dance now”
Only difference was that it came out the other end in the voice of C & C Music Factory. All of a sudden you could hear the classic 90s tune playing from all different locations. YouTube crashed because so many people were playing it.
Well, the engineers got it back up and billions of people were streaming and playing the song. And they danced.
And for a brief period, if only a moment, the world danced. No one fought. No one killed anyone else. The earth danced. And it was blissful, if only for a moment.
THE END
|
I stood staring at the tv as I picked up the megaphone once more. I spoke softly into the megaphone and said, hello. This set off a chain reaction of people praying to the almighty voice from the heavens. I then proceeded to tell the people of earth how they must welcome me with open arms as I begin my decent from space. I wait for what happens next and while I’m waiting a hear a knock on my door. Bruce, my best friend walks in laughing with a camera. I scream into the megaphone “Of course it’s just a prank”
| 2018-02-15T22:34:51 | 2018-02-15T20:57:23 | 78 | 38 |
[WP] You are transported into your favourite video game, and due to you playing through every storyline multiple times, you know every line, every twist and every death for the characters in it, much to their confusion.
|
Your eyes open to a dreary sight. The cool breeze brushes against the rags you call clothes. You hold a broken sword, a shield with no crest and a flask of yellow liquid. You wonder if you are a fallen knight or perhaps a wander of sorts?
Your skin is brown, old, and wrinkled, as though you had spent an eternity in the light. Your heart is all but beating, alarming at first, but your worry is dispelled by a voice.
"There are actually two bells of awakening." The voice announced, cutting through the air in the way a dull knife would cut flesh.
The horror set in. You were no gallant knight. You were no mysterious wanderer. You are cursed. Undead. Doomed to live out a quest to restore humanity, or forsake.
You know how to reach the Lord of light. How to rekindle humanity. You've saved Solaire countless times and protected the fire keeper. You've fought along the four Knights and stopped the madness of Artioras. You've traversed the abyss and slayed the father.
But you realize, that none of that matters. You're not in a fairy tale. Nobody here cares that to you've done all these quests before.
As you take a step towards the undead burg to tackle the first bell, you feel the last bit of light drain from your eyes, and the hollow sets in.
|
I took another bite of the crisp apple I was holding.
"You get what I'm saying right?" I questioned.
"Now I will teach you respect" He announced as his hands ignited in flames.
I took a knee as the fireball flew harmlessly by.
"I'm just saying, this was more fun at first." I explained as I blocked a jab.
"It's too easy now, low kick." I took a small jump. As I landed I grabbed the shoulders of his gi and rolled back. I extended my legs and reached to pick up my apple as he flew backwards.
I took another bite of the apple and spun as the battlecry roared through the arena
"GET OVER HERE!"
I wrapped my arm around the chain behind the kunai and pulled hard. Repetition was the key. I planted my foot and rotated for a high hook kick. My heel struck true to the skull of my opponent and he fell to the ground. He arose slowly but no longer moved to fight. Hear comes the narrator:
"FINISH HIM"
I walked in close, "Just saying, you should talk to sub zero or something. Learn some new moves." I took a bite of the apple and spit it into the air so it landed on his skill.
"Fatality"
Edit: fixed wording and kick types.
| 2017-10-20T22:33:59 | 2017-10-20T20:12:20 | 143 | 60 |
[WP] You grew up with your uncle, seeing him bringing weird stuffs home, you'd always thought he was just a hoarder. Untill the day he died, you realized that your uncle was the collector and protector of the most powerfull artifacts in the universe and you are a part of his collection.
|
Issac sat down on his bed still wearing the perfectly fitted suit he wore to his uncle's funeral. Uncle Rummy always said a good suit could get you far in life. The laddies loved it too, according to him. Issac examined the simple black notebook in his hands. It was rather unassuming: dusty faux leather over aged paper, only about 7 inches tall and rather thin. Issac flipped open to the first page.
*To Issac, my most prized possession.*
*If you're reading this I have surely passed from this world. But, as a parting gift I give you this simple book and all the information it contains. Now, don't worry, this isn't a normal book (ok, it is a normal book to everyone EXCEPT you, but that's besides the point). In the following pages I promise more than the words of a dead man.*
*I'm sure you've noticed all the odds and ends I bring home and take to my workshop. You'll come to find what they are soon enough. You see Issac, I am a collector of extraordinary things.*
*...*
*Bah, you're already bored. I'll skip to the point. The things I collect are magical and fantastic in nature. Yes. You read that right. Magic. Powerful magic too. And you son are the most powerful of all. I can hear you now, "But how have I not noticed?" You need to learn your powers to use them. Think of it like stretching a muscle you didn't know you had. Now, let's begin!*
Issac scratched his chin and he read through the passage. Magic? Powerful magic? Issac had just assumed his Uncle wanted to appear on those antique shows at one point so he could show off a vintage license plat or obscure toy. Issac then crackled a smile as he realized what was going on. This was just one big prank. What better way to mess with your nephew than to give him a book and tell him he's magical. Typical. Issac thought back to when they were in church one Sunday and Rummy had replaced the screws on the pastors chairs with wooden ones, painted to look like metal. When the pastor sat down after his sermon his chair collapsed from under him. The church hall erupted into laughter, even the pastor got over his initial shock and let out a chuckle.
Issac returned to the book, flipping through the rest of the pages to find they were all filled in with his uncle's neat scrawl. Surprising dedicated to the bit, thought Issac.
*First, I want to teach you something simple, just to prove I'm not pulling your leg from beyond the grave. Stretch out your hand and feel the air around your fingers. Feel their temperature. Now feel the air getting hotter. Don't just image the air getting hotter, actually feel it on your finger tips. Oh, I should've mentioned this, you might want some water handy. Also do this outside, those drapes aren't cheap. Practice this enough and you should start to notice the air around your fingers will start to warp and waver. You know how you can see the fumes of an unlit-lighter if you look closely enough. That's about what it should look like. Now, if you haven't guess yet, fire will erupt from your fingers. The hotter you think the fire is, the bigger it grows. I'll get more into how to control it later, but for right now just focus on the flames and try to not burn anything.*
Pulling his attention away from the book, Issac looked at his fingers and made it a show to focus in on them, imaging them bursting into flames. And, to his surprise he felt the air around his hand quiver. It didn't quite heat up or change but he felt *something*. As if to prove his uncle, and his own senses wrong, he stretched out his hand and felt the air. Felt the gentle currents and bearably detectable eddies. He felt the temperature. The slightly cool sensation of drying sweat and the warming feeling of his heart beat. Focusing on the temperature he felt it rise. The air now felt hot like his hand was over a stove, not a burning sensation or one of discomfort, but hot all the same. He lost his focus and the heat disappeared. He rubbed his hands together, neither felt any different. Not hotter or colder. Even when he refocused and felt the air heat up. Only the hand he focused on felt the heat.
Issac let out a long, "huh." Completely taken aback by the recent events and entirely unsure as to how to process it. He turned back to his hand, eager to see if he could indeed cause flames to erupt from them. With a new found desire he found himself laser focused on getting his hand to burst into flames. The air around his hand heated up, never unbearable and not quite uncomfortable but somehow very clearly hot. The air quivered around his hand before red rivulets of flame sprung from his finger tips like ribbons of vibrant light. "Woah!" Issac yelped as he witnessed his hand on fire. With his concentration broken, the flames died out once again. And just like before, his hand was no different. Not any hotter or worse for wear. Issac grabbed to book and opened to where he left off, nearly tearing a page in the process. He kept reading, ravenous for the power bestowed upon him.
|
Uncle Mike had always been a strange one. Growing up, he was always in and out on his "trips". He'd leave for a while, stop by around the same time every month to drop off more of his garbage, hide in his study for a few days, and then he'd be off again. You didn't really care too much about it. You had always found ways to entertain yourself. Uncle Mike was filthy rich and if him not being around much meant you got a $5000 allowance each month, well, that was fine by you. Half of what was practically a mansion was yours for weeks at a time. Only rule was that you couldn't enter the right wing or the basement. That was Uncle Mike's. Again, it never really bothered you. A couple times you had gotten curious and peeked in to one of the "forbidden" rooms. What looked like piles of junk and garbage filled the room to the point in which you couldn't even fit in though the doorway.
*No wonder Mike didn't want anyone in here* you had thought *he lives like a fuckin slob.*
You never could bring yourself to look into the basement though. Something about it just, didn't feel right. You had shut the door then and and never bothered to go back in. That is, until today.
Uncle Mike passed away a few days ago. His funeral was held earlier today. It was a small gathering with mostly people you didn't recognize and a few people from the town coming to get a peek at the "weird rich old man who lived in the woods". Around the end of the funeral though, a woman approached you. She was middle aged and looked solemn at the passing of what you assumed was a good friend to her. She spoke with you a little about her relationship with your uncle, saying she was his pilot, Joan.
*Figures that Uncle Mike would have his own pilot. Probably has his own personal plane too.*
After some typical small talk and the usual "sorry for your loss," Joan handed you a letter.
"He told me to give this to you if something ever happened to him," she explained "it may not make sense now, but I hope you come to understand. Your uncle was an extraordinary man."
And that gets you to where you are now. It's evening. The moon should be rising soon. Almost fitting that its a full moon tonight. Mike always liked to come home for the full moon. He said he liked the way the countryside looked under it. You scoff, he would.
You're standing outside your uncle's mysterious study, holding his unopened letter in your hands. You open the door to his study and walk in. The walls are lines with maps and news clippings. Old books, pens, papers, and Pop-Tart wrappers coat the floor. You chuckle. Mike always did really love Pop-Tarts. Looking closer at the books and newspapers though, none of it made sense. Werewolves? Demons? Magic?? It was ridiculous! This is what Uncle Mike devoted his life to? This is what he kept in his secret study?? You sigh and drop down into the single rolling chair in the study and look down at the letter.
*This is stupid,* you thought to yourself as you tore open the letter.
"Kid, if you're reading this, then somethings gone wrong and I won't be around for a while. That, or I'm dead. The point is, there's some things you gotta know and things you gotta prepare for. First of all, obviously I'm not your real uncle. Adopted you when you were a baby. Bet you probably figured that one out by now though. The way I kept avoiding the 'who are my real parents' question, you probably guessed something was amiss. No, you're real parents weren't exactly natural. Nothing I've been doing is exactly natural. Everything I've collected, all my notes, its all real. And I need you to protect it with your life. You're, well, my guard dog of sorts. You've been given immense power, given you learn to control it. And you will, around the time you hit 20. For the longest time, every month, I've been having to keep you under control for a night or two. Good thing you never remember that. I've got some nasty cuts from your claws alone--"
Your face twists in annoyance. Who does he think he is? Crazy old man! You flip to another page in the letter. Its instructions. You skim over them, face contorting in frustration.
*What, am I supposed to lock myself up in the goddamn basement every full moon until I'm 20??* You throw the letter onto the desk and stomp towards the exit of the study.
*A WEREWOLF???A GODDAMN WEREWOLF???* You grab the door handle with a clawed hand. Were your nails always that long?
*CRAZY, SENILE, LOONY, BATSHI--* And with a loud crack, you rip the door off its hinges. It flies through the air and lands on the other side of the room. You stare at it for a moment, bewildered. You did that. You, just ripped a door out. You're strong. So strong. And holy shit, you're hungry.
You begin to laugh. It was all just so crazy. He's crazy. Your laugh gets deeper. Crazy! Your laugh is rough, guttural. It's not even a laugh anymore. It's a growl. You're crazy. You're wild. You're hungry.
| 2018-09-30T04:11:33 | 2018-09-30T03:21:21 | 65 | 37 |
[WP] Upon dying, you, a serial killer, are sentenced to experience the lives of all those that you killed.
Edit: Thanks, all, for chiming in and upvoting. Or downvoting, since this is apparently something of a common concept. Sorry about that. Would you believe me if I said I didn't mean to be a reposting karma whore? Either way, it inspired the responders to write. Call me a fool, but I'm happy that so many have taken the time to read and write.
|
By the time the knife made its final plunge into my heart, I was weak from the struggle and had embraced my inevitable death. It was a traumatic experience, despite my expecting it to occur in precisely the manner I remembered it—albeit, my memory was from the other side of the stabbing. But, I did not anticipate experiencing the conflicting emotions: fear mixed with impatience; excitement underlying intense pain; and, most confusing, a feeling of arrogant superiority, while simultaneously feeling self-hatred.
The conflicting emotions were unavoidable. After all, I was still me. Deep down, I knew that I was not really this pathetic, groveling, mess of a man being stabbed in his dingy basement suite. I was really the calculating, confident, and charismatic man in control of the situation. Overpowering the lesser man. Relieving him of his miserable existence.
My (really his) heart stopped pumping, since there was little left to pump.
I, myself again, awoke in the sterile hospital bed. The restraints felt tighter than they had prior to the run. Likely, my body had struggled against the restraints while I was “under,” experiencing my third victim struggling against… me.
“How does it feel to know what you did to Kevin?” shrieked his sister, Kelly, from the observation section of the room.
The warden placed his hand on her shoulder and softly told her, “we discourage people from communicating with the inmates. It’s for your own safety.”
Kelly’s eyes remained fixed on me. She added, “… I hope you rot in hell, you sick fuck!”
“Hell,” I smirked.
Hell is an interesting topic to bring up. Several theologians postulate that hell is just reliving your worst experiences over and over for all of eternity. I suppose that was the intended effect of the new “incorporeal punishment.” I was sentenced to relive the experiences of those whom I had killed, every Friday for the rest of my life. It was intended to be my own personal hell.
Hell doesn’t frighten me. It ought not to be frightening to anyone smart enough to think it through. No matter how bad things get, people are resilient and eventually come to terms with it. My father was an ex-Olympian turned blind paraplegic, the unfortunate effect of untreated type-1 diabetes. He was suicidal for the first 16 months or so, but he eventually found new purpose in his life and refound happiness here and there before he died. So too, no matter how horrible and tortuous hell is, eventually I will get used to it. Eventually, I will come to expect the torture and it will become bearable. Maybe not for the first hundred years, but if I truly have an eternity to experience hell, then I am certain I’ll adapt and endure.
Only someone wholly inhuman would be incapable of so adapting. Even Kevin was able to accept his shitty life and find joy in it. I would have wanted to end that life, just as I indeed did. So long as it is me who is experiencing hell, and not some other conscious being, then I will do as I have always done (as all humans have done) and I will adapt to hell.
And that is why incorporeal punishment fails to be punishment at all. I know that it is me who is experiencing Kevin’s life. It is not some abstract “other”. I am not Kevin. So when I am experiencing Kevin’s experiences, I am filled with self-hatred—or, more accurately, “Kevin-hatred.” I don’t feel bad that Kevin is killed, even though I experience what he felt in death. If anything, in that moment, I am even more determined to have him die. It has provided me with new insight and new justification for my alleged misdeeds.
Another thing that the incorporeal punishers never anticipated was that it would give someone like me a lot of new knowledge. And, after all, “knowledge is power.” So, I know exactly who Kelly is and who their mother and father are. I know what Kevin truly thought about them. I know how to forever taint their loving memories. This is why the warden tries to discourage communication.
“Hell, Kelly? Hell was Kevin’s life. He loathed you so very much, even if he never told you. And for the weirdest reasons. He thought your father loved you more, because he had accidentally witnessed him in your bed, when you were both still young. What a sick and twisted mind Kevin had. He actually wished that daddy would rape him instead of you,” I laughed, "Hi dad!"
The look on Kelly and her parents’ faces was the greatest gift. I can’t wait for the next run. My fourth victim was especially pathetic.
|
They decided to test-run the idea on the 'Blade and Flame' killer. Real name, Leonard Stiles: notorious for cutting up his 50 victims, before torching them while still breathing.
He'd get a little trip down memory lane before death, courtesy of LifeChip technology. The chips had already been widespread in society when Leonard had prowled the streets. And now, its use was perfected. Every memory, even sight and every experience someone had lived: downloadable and replayable. Useful for everything from court testimonies to the transfer of knowledge.
And projected to be the greatest reform to hit the prison system. Once it had been tested, it would be extended to the other prisoners.
They strapped the headset to Leonard, who looked bored out of his mind as he sat strapped to the chair. They pressed 'play' on the compiled memories of all 50 victims, while the executioner waited nearby. After the chip played inside out, he would move in - and Leonard would be nothing but a bad memory.
Leonard watched as the images flit past in front of his eyes. The first woman he'd dragged from the streets as a teenager, weeping as he cut into her. The flames, racing up her body. Men. Girls. Boys. Dozens of them. All so diverse, so different, but their screams had sounded very similar, in the end.
"He's actually smiling," a prisoner guard said, disgusted.
"Play it again," the warden growled.
The second time, Leonard laughed, an ugly wheezing sound that made the warden feel the sour burn of his breakfast crawling up his throat.
"Just kill him," he said, disgusted. "Take it off and kill him, already."
Leonard saw the images fade into black, and felt numbness spread up his veins. At last, it would be over. Just stepping forward into nothingness. In truth, he'd faked the laugh. It didn't amuse him, not really. It had, once, but that last burn of emotion had long since died in prison. No. The sight of his victims simply bored him, now. But he knew laughter would enrage them, and they would kill him for it.
At last, he would simply be over.
There was a moment of darkness, and then the images flickered to life again.
The woman, struggling and screaming. The boy, pleading. The men, roaring in denial of what was being done to them. Boring, boring, *boring*. But he couldn't look away. He couldn't switch it off. He was alive, and watching.
"Kill me already. It was supposed to be one replay," Leonard snapped. At least, that's what he meant to say.
But he had no mouth. He couldn't speak. He could simply watch.
------
"Ingenious, sometimes, those humans," Razgü said, as he set up the torture for the newly arrived soul.
"Don't need no hooks or whips or anything," he explained to Maluk, who was watching the soul thrash and try to speak. "Torture never really worked all that well with these serial killer types, anyway. They always get some kick from knowing they made it down here. But this, this will work..."
"You're just using their punishment for him?" Maluk asked.
Razgü nodded and grinned to reveal a sharply filed mouth of teeth.
"Infinite loop. Best part is, we don't need to do nothing. It's just an eternal memory of what he just saw," Razgü cackled.
Eternal torture was almost as wearying on the torturer as the one getting tortured. It would be so much easier if the humans just did the work themselves.
Maluk was silent, jealous that he hadn't thought of the idea. Razgü would probably get a commendation, and the humans had done the work for him. Sometimes, the sheer power of their invention disgusted him.
----------
Leonard forced himself to remain calm. To try and sleep, maybe. But his eyes couldn't shut, and his mouth couldn't open. They must have tampered with the headset. Some inhumane adjustments, especially for him. Making him think he'd died, but really, the chip was still running.
Well, fuck them. He wouldn't show anger. He forced his mouth to be slack, his body to be still. They'd need this chair for someone else, soon.
They'd have to kill him sometime.
-------
*Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.*
| 2016-11-13T12:24:14 | 2016-11-13T12:14:23 | 131 | 66 |
[WP] You’ve always had good sight in the dark, you’ve been called a freak for it. When you die and see the light in the tunnel, you are the first person to notice a door to your side instead.
|
"Oh".
I plodded along sheepishly, 90% sure that I'd taken a wrong turn. A warm, orange light was creeping around the corner, barely illuminating the door that I'd just gone through. I made it to the end and peered around. Much to my surprise, a rough-looking group of people sat around a table, no more than five of them, all playing cards. Smoke filled the air.
"You....you guys see him too?" one sputtered out, and the others nodded in a stunned silence.
"Well, it's not often we get new people. I'm Jake, welcome to the forgotten ones".
"forgotten...?" I protested.
"That's right, kid. Just like us, you decided to go right through that damn door. Like, the bright light was just there, yet we were really dumb enough to take the bait". The others groaned and hmmed in agreement.
"Won't we be found, surely they'll realise we didn't go into the light-"
"They? who's they? It's not a school assembly, no-one's giving orders. We have no idea if anyone is even in charge of this whole after-death palava".
I was offered a chair and swiftly took it. I took some deep breaths.
"Beer?" Jake offered, approaching some rusty fridge. I didn't decline; it looked like I was going to be here for a while.
|
Alex was a good person. Thin, but strong, and always friendly to everyone she met. She didn't expect to die from a virus. When she unexpectedly woke up, there was a dark tunnel, with a light at the end.
"Oh great, the light at the end of the tunnel. Guess I'm dead. Too bad, I wanted to live for a while longer".
She shook her head and sighed. Alex steeled herself and was about to walk towards the light when she saw a door. It looked incredibly similar to the walls, but it was a door. She smiled, thinking about how she could cheat death, or so she hoped.
Alex opened the door, and looked around. She was far above the earth, and had the choice to jump through the door or continue. Worry crossed her face. She still feared death, and feared pain, and a long jump to earth couldn't be fun. But she might have a chance at life. She calmed her nerves, and jumped through.
Falling was not all that fun. She shivered as she fell towards earth, being cold. As she went closer, she could see more and more. Apparently, she could go through anything. After what was a few minutes but felt like a few hours, Alex fell into her body. And then, she woke up.
| 2021-06-04T16:12:38 | 2021-06-04T12:39:31 | 99 | 58 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
Rachel and Connor hadn't seen each other since 2011, when they parted ways for what they anticipated would be forever.
It was their sophomore year of college, early on in the first semester, though neither of them would graduate.
Connor dropped out immediately, the grief of his fiancée leaving him was too much, and he couldn't focus.
Rachel tried, but going from living with him to living alone got costly; she had to work.
Before the second semester, she dropped out and got a second job.
Running into Connor again brought back a wave of very beautiful, and very painful, memories.
The best were the little excitements, like his sentimental proposal, and their first date.
The worst though were the things she put him through; all the abuse.
She was terrible to him, even though he insisted she was "perfect."
Rachel wasn't perfect; she was an alcoholic, and she was mean.
She would talk down to him when she was drunk.
She would throw dishes and shoes at his face...
He smiled from across the lot and waved.
Then he ran straight over to her.
He gave her a warm hug.
Then suddenly, he was saddened.
"Why did you leave?"
"I loved you."
"You loved--"
"Yeah."
|
I told her that I’d painted her a sky the way she always wanted to see it, blues and pinks. Like a sunset, I said, but I didn’t really mean it, I meant like how I remembered our mornings. With the sun blushing her skin as soon as I opened the curtains to let in the day. She said she loved it and I’ve been trying to take compliments more readily so she’d smile.
And she smiled and she kissed me and the day looked less like clouds and hail. She could do that, turn the rain clouds and hail into delicate threads of sunshine. Which I’d roll into balls of yarn in the colours rainbows seemed to bleed. It was an operation that required me to close my eyes and smile.
My fingers knew the work well though, short practice with intense concentration. Tongue dragging the corners of mouth where I’d always thought best. Fingers combing through to pick only the best threads, absentminded. The way that I work best, with some participation.
I could feel the colours pierce my skin. Each hue drawing different blood to surface. I routinely scraped my skin clean. Completing the ritual for her.
I’d paint the sky.
Blue and pink.
For her.
Again.
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T18:51:56 | 220 | 35 |
[WP] In the afterlife, souls can see how many living people still know you once existed. You, who had lived a fairly normal life, finally saw the count drop to 0 just 200 years after your death. 500 years later, 95% of the Earth’s total population suddenly knows about you.
|
All men see many sunsets, but for my people, it is said that only 4 matter.
The one of our Birth, where we begin.
The one of our coming of age is where we set out to be known.
The one of our Death, where we join our tribes myths.
The one our name is forgotten. Our people speak long of names, but all names are forgotten.
My birth was was in the season of blooms, where honey blossoms grew plentiful.
As all my people, My coming of age was when I placed my handprint upon the hall of our ancestors to mark the begining of my spirit quest, so as to be remembered as having made it to maturity. I kissed my mother and sister good bye.
The one of my death came upon my spirit quest in the season of short days. I had eaten the last of my dried goat meat, and was following a game path into strange lands when the others began hunting me. Like us, but not. Repulsive.
Like gazing upon water that ripples and seeing the hateful reflection.
They chased me upon a frigid mountain side, shooting hawk sticks from Atlatl.
I fought back, kicking one off the mountain when it happened.
A hawk stick caught me in my shoulder, and my vital essence leaked away, staining the snow red.
I fought on, slashing another of the imposters. He fell away to. His kin retreated then.
I collapsed to my knees, and let my third sunset take me, taking solace that my younger sister might not have to face so many of them upon her journey.
I watched her grow up without me. Sad, but not sad. She told of my name to her children. And they told of me to there's in the hall of ancestors for much time. I lived on, as one of the heroes who never completed his journey to find meaning, forever wandering the stars seeking purpose.
My last sunset came some 200 passings after my third when the tribe was forced to chase mammoth to far from our homelands, and lost the way to our sacred hall. My name was forgotten, and my mind grew still. I knew peace, and moons passed quickly then.
I wandered aimlessly, no longer being drawn to my descendants to bless them. I watched my peoples settle, and begin growing crop. I saw them stack stones taller then trees. I was proud of those who shared my blood for such power. I blessed them all when I could. My blessings came to fruition in moving mountains of wood upon the water that carried them far. I saw them create stones that shined, but cut like ash glass. I saw brave ones fight weak ones. I prayed for them all over incense. In time I saw them shape those gleaming rocks into ever more complex forms pulled by oxen. Then the rocks began to move on there own. I gazed in awe upon my descendants.
I had long lost track of the seasons passings when my 5th sunset came, to much suprise. I was drawn back to my final battle, where men hacked the gleaming rocks into the mountain. My flesh saw sunlight again. A broken mortal vessel of no importance, but I none the less watched as my adopted children lovingly took me away after such time, and embalmed me. The ritauls were strange, but I blessed them for there efforts. They came to know my name again.
I am Otzi, and I bless you who know my name.
|
It’s nice to be remembered. Not just by your immediate family but by their children, and their children’s children. You are a part of their ancestry, their heritage, and therefore their life. They say you die twice, once when your body dies and once more when the last person who remembers you dies. Luckily (or not, depending on what kind of person you were), in the afterlife you can see how many living people still remember you.
I was blessed enough to see my children telling my grandchildren some of the things about me that I had not had the chance to tell them. I could see my great grandchildren asking their parents about what kind of world I grew up in, how I managed without the technologies and benefits that they take for granted. But we all know we won’t be remembered forever, not unless we leave an indelible mark on this earth. After all, your children only have two parents to look up to, but their children have four grandparents, and their children have eight great grandparents, so by the time your 10-times great grandchildren are born, you are just a distant line on a branch of a very big tree.
Thus, about 200 years after I died, the last member of my lineage who still knew of me finally passed away and I was gone from living memory. I was not sad, I had led a fairly normal life just like billions of other humans, I held down a decent job and built a happy family, what more could someone ask for? I was not destined for greatness, or legend. Or infamy.
I enjoyed several hundred more years observing the world below me, until I saw them digging. Digging too close.
Nobody knew it was buried there, it was just bad luck they were working there. I began to worry. Would they find it? Would they *use* it?
~~~~
I was remembered again. My name was everywhere, there was hardly a person on earth that didn’t know about the person who found the secret to eternal healthy life, and hid it. Buried it. Kept it secret from the world.
I stumbled upon it by accident, on holiday. At first unsure of what to do with it, I kept it on me at all times, constantly deliberating in my mind whether to release it or not. I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it though, how could I? It would save millions, billions of lives and improve quality of life no end; no death or disease, no sickness or suffering. But no reduction in population either. The only way to die would be at the hands of another person, or your own. No, that just wouldn’t do.
So I did the only thing I could, I took the secret to my grave, quite literally. Stitched into the lining of my burial suit that I chose in my final months of life. Once I died I didn’t have to worry about it any more.
How was I to know the cemetery would be neglected, abandoned, then excavated for building? How was I to know my well labelled coffin would be inspected, my body exhumed, that they would see the tattered paper poking out of the weathered lining of my suit, writing still legible.
Natural deaths stopped almost almost immediately. But once they started, the wars would not.
| 2020-09-24T06:47:48 | 2020-09-24T06:42:08 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] You were born with one talent that no one else has: the ability to spin a piece of a broken eggshell on a paper plate. Finally, you are in a situation where this talent is useful.
|
"I had a dream." She said, crossing her legs beneath the dinner table.
"Uh, huh." I nodded, watching candlelight flickering and illuminating her bright blue eyes into a sky I wanted to lose myself to. "Go on."
"So, this wise old sage told me that the guy I was gonna marry was great at spinning pieces of broken eggshells on a paper plate."
My eyes went wide. "Holy shit." I breathed, laughing to myself like an idiot, ignoring her confused glare as she raised a brow.
"Waiter!" I motiond for one of them to come.
"How may I be of service sir?"
I smiled and said: "Bring me an eggshell, a broken one. And the paper plate."
"Very well."
Bianca chuckled, leaning against her right hand. "You don't seriously believe you can do that right?" She huffed. "I tried so many times, it's impossible."
Smirking, taking the egg and the plate from the returning waiter: "Just wait til' you see this then." I said.
|
Everyone turns and looks at you (Lose Yourself by Eminem starts playing in the background). You grab an egg and crack it in your palms letting the yolk and whites flow through your fingers down to the ground (music volume increases). You reach into the Hefty bag pulling out a fresh paper plate ("CLOCKS RUN OUT, TIMES UP, OVER BLLAOW!!"). You flick the eggshell into the air with a powerful spin, deftly catching it on the plate whilst spinning the plate like a 9 year old coke head with a fidget spinner (Music continues to roar out over the room as your peers lose their minds)....
As you rest the plate with the slowly spinning shell down the crowd starts to come back to reality (Music fades, "You can do anything you set your mind to man"). As the eggshell comes to a rest the crowd remains silent, you can hear it make its final scratches on the plate. Everyone disperses silently and naked, taking to the grave with them the story of how that orgy ended.
| 2017-08-06T02:18:06 | 2017-08-06T00:52:47 | 70 | 28 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
I still remember how the sun hit her silver hair and how her eyes shone brighter than anything in the room. I still remember how the air smelled like lilacs and strawberries, so contrasted from the sterile air outside. I still remember how she looked at me and asked, "Who are you?" I still remember telling her, "I'm the person you make so very happy," for the last time.
|
He checked his watch for the eighth time that hour.
He took the box out of his pocket and opened it.
He took the ring out and caught the fading light of the day in its facets.
He put the ring away and walked home as he realized she would never show.
| 2014-11-20T18:46:32 | 2014-11-20T18:36:12 | 112 | 72 |
[WP] You are a nerdy highschool kid in a world where when you touch your soulmate, your chest lights up. After 3 years of verbal abuse, the school bully shoves you against the wall, and both of your chests light up.
|
*No way.*
Kino's chest started to glow dimly as she had me pinned against the wall. *There is no way she is my soulmate. Is this a joke, Mister Genie?* She yelped and quickly pulled back as she stared at me in horror. I realized my chest was glowing similarly.
"Hey four eyes, what sort of magic trick are you pulling?" She growled as I began to pick up my backpack, eyeing my escape route. We were at the school's infamous corridor -- no one can see what's happening here.
"No..Nothing." I quickly said as I held my backpack tightly. The Three Kingdoms figurines shall not be tainted with this fool's sweat. As long as they are intact, my life is worth the sacrifice.
"Oh really?" Kino got closer to me and poked me. Our chest glowed again, this time dimmer than before. I felt her applying more pressure and our chest glowed brightly. "Then what does this mean? You better tell me or I swear I'll dump your backpack in the river."
I took a deep breath at the very sound. Her expression turned into a smile. *She knows.*
"Oh my oh my, you still into that Three Kingdoms bullshit?" Kino giggled as she circled me, like a vulture carefully playing its prey. "Come on Kyo, you are a high schooler now."
"Don't call me that," I replied. This was the first time in the many years my ex-childhood best friend had told me that. "And Three Kingdoms has a respectful history. Especially the strategy each generals...."
"Yeah yeah." She waved her hands and then quickly snatched my backpack. I tried my best holding onto it but she was strong. She was the tennis co-captain after all. "Still the weak one I see. Listen, four eyes. I'll give it back if you tell me what this chest glowing means. And if I know you are lying, which is incredibly obvious since I known you a long time, say sweet goodbye to your figurines."
*Think Kyo. Think. What would the great generals of Three Kingdoms do in this situation?*
My mind was in utter state of blank. I sighed and gave up, recalling what Mister Genie had told me. "It means we are soulmates. It means that we are meant for each other. At least that's what I know."
Her expression quickly changed. For a brief moment, there was the Kino I had once know showing her innocent feature. She threw the backpack back at me and started to walk away, hands in her pocket. *Wait. That actually worked? What just happened?*
"Kino?" I asked. But she continued walking, as if nothing had happened.
"I guess my dream will finally come true..." I heard her whispered softly under her breath before disappearing around the corner, leaving me alone to ponder on this sudden turn of events.
*What did she mean by that?*
|
She pauses. Her hand still on my chest, pushing hard. Seconds feel like minutes while we both contemplate what this means. Honestly, I have no idea how long we stood there. Hours could have passed. Replaying every bad thing she has done to me and her replaying all that she has done.
She lets go, only for a moment and adjusts her shirt. I relax a bit, disheveled. She looks down, away, then back to me. Clearing her throat she says "Don't think this changes anything." And walks away.
I'm confused, stunned really. As she walks away I see her glance back, grimaced. I stare blankly.
Exhale, a jittery first step. Then the next.
I walked home. Slowly. Reflecting.
"Hi Son!" My father bellows as he sees me down the drive. I give him a nod. He can see it's been a rough day. Away to my room. Door locked. The day melts away into the night and somehow I fall asleep.
The next morning I get ready to face a new reality. Not sure how it will play out. My father pulls me aside and asks if everything is alright, I nod. Give a hug and head for the door.
Heavy steps as I get closer to the school. My legs feel like giving out and my stomach says run. But I walk anyway. Inside. I feel alone in the hall. Yes, people are there, but I feel invisible. Sound seems to be blurry and the light echoes while it dances. My heart races.
Suddenly, hands grab me and pull me into the side hall. I see the sign for supplies and realize that this is our normal spot. The place where the cameras don't see. The place where I take most of my beatings.
The world is spinning and I feel out of focus. I slam against the wall and wonder if I'm even still breathing. But something is different. "Open your eyes" echoes a familiar voice. This time it sounds softer, less rage. Slowly one eye then the other. It's her. I knew it. My heart is racing and fear fills me, I wonder how will today end. Slowly she leans in and kisses me. I'm not sure it's real. But it continues. I cry. She smiles, a solitary tear falls down her cheek.
"I'm sorry." She whispers.
I barely nod in acceptance.
She grabs my neck warmly and puts me into an headlock and gives me a wedgie. I smile. It hurts, but I remember my father saying to me that relationships are tough, and not always fun, but what is important is that you both try and love each other.
While the wedgie almost rips my briefs, I let out "I like you."
She leans in and whispers into my ear... "I like you too"
It's a new day.
Edit: removed extra letters...
| 2017-06-11T08:02:25 | 2017-06-11T07:41:10 | 86 | 39 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories.
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When humans first encountered the Fuzzies on Nimbus, the smelliest planet in the galaxy, they found the most adorable pet ever. The size of a large cat and resembling an Ewok, Fuzzies were cute and cuddly. They talked in a baby language. They loved to help out around the house.
Fuzzies were discovered during the Great Clearing, a period where humans destroyed the thick forests of Nimbus to terraform the planet and make it more habitable for humans. Unfortunately, it destroyed the native Fuzzies habitats in the process. That's how humans first encountered them.
Nimbus plants were combination insect-plants. Trees that every so often moved to another spot. Seeds that flew in flocks after falling from trees. Spiders that planted themselves after devouring their prey then grew into 8-petal spider flowers to complete the cycle. Unfortunately, the plants were so smelly it made the air completely unbearable. Nimbus stank.
To tame the environment, colonists cleared the thickets and created plantations for lucrative cash crops. Ironically, some of the plants made fantastic perfumes that were worth their weight in gold.
Fuzzies were found to have a strange link to the flora of Nimbus. They had the power to guide flying fruit right into their mouths. Humans learned about the singing plants from the Fuzzies after observing the Fuzzies call and response with the plants.
The fuzzies were great with children. Their intelligence was never really ever seen as a threat because they were so cute. Indeed, they loved their humans as much as humans loved their dogs. And the few dogs on Nimbus treated the fuzzies as their friends. It was a completely symbiotic relationship for all.
Children loved them too, but oddly, the humans on Nimbus weren't having many children. The fertility rate on Nimbus was the lowest in the Galaxy. It was only after 360 Degree Cyber Guildmaster Dr. Moses that the truth of Nimbus was revealed.
|
“Oh fuck.”
To think this all started with fucking dogs I thought to myself as I dove behind a rock. I think I might be in over my head. When the Delphi hired me I was overflowing with confidence: “ Not a lifeform the Beastmasters can’t tame Gan! I assure you, I’ll have it here before you need it.” I never saw something like this. Even Johannes had never heard of anything like it.
Ga described it as something with a lot of limbs and dark as night. He had heard people on-planet speak of it only as the Khotxi, loosely translated as the shadowdeath, or shadowshriek, depending on who you ask. I could hear and feel it move over the rocky surface of the valley we were in. It was moving cautiously, definitly still looking for me. I throw some bait in an open area and watch it move towards it rapidly, its spiky legs drilling itself in the ground under it’s immense weight. I counted 18, but can’t be sure. I haven’t seen anything like it, it’s just all black. As I watch it, I seem to be getting pulled in by the dark void it has for a coat. I wish there was a word that for something sinister and majestic. I duck back down because I haven’t figured out how well it sees yet. I don’t know how it spotted me earlier. I wasn’t all that visible, I neutralised my smell, I barely made any noise on the mountainside and yet it still came barreling towards me.
I perch up and watch it, I think, stab the bait I threw with about eight of it’s paws, one after the other. I decide to move a bit to the right, but as soon as I take my first step, I hear those droning and alarmingly fast legs come barreling towards me again.
| 2020-01-04T18:42:49 | 2020-01-04T17:57:03 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Humans finally realised that aliens have been conversing using different wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum, and that using the microwave for past century has sent disturbing signals to the aliens.
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„And you are 100% sure?“
„Yes of course I am Malingo. The messages seem to be encrypted but our team of professionals deciphered them and it looks like they are sending Coordinates on where to find a habitable planet.“
„is it their planet? In which solar system are they located?„
„They are way too far from us. We do not have much time left and our resources are limited after we send all we had on the last evacuation mission but like I said, these beings are caring for us and we should plan our next mission accordingly.„
“Well...., it looks like our best option right now anyway, doesn’t it? ... so let’s do it.
Just one last question though: how come we never received any of their communication until 30 years ago? As they use the same microwave frequency as we do we should have at one point received some kind of signal. If those beings are so advanced that they can point us to a place we couldn’t find they must have discovered microwave communication 10.000 years bevor we did. We should have received their signals the moment Antrumong discovered microwaves 700 years ago.”
“Well I don’t know. The only thing I know this is not our best but our only option. We should start acting now!”
“Well ok then, put this coordinates in our star-gate and get everyone ready for the last evacuation”
|
humanity got a grind reminder of the universe cold and unfeeling nature,as god like beings decended from the sky.Almost as if the bells of hell opened,a frequency so unimaginable,it was something a completely insane and mad person could discribe as there nigthmares.Two beings,like wise of lovecraftian horror,with tentacles coming out of what look to be there eyes and mouths in which a black and a blue fluid was coming out,with a putrid smells the likes of which have never been imagine posible.A red skin which resemble a goats blood with dirt springle all over it.One of the aberretions screeched like babies being sawed in half slowly,the other one took a sudden U turn and make a sound that roughly sounded like a metal being banged by a bat.The monstrosity looked back at us,one of its tentacle reach for someting on its cavity,it took a gigant disc with two chains that could only be discribed as a mask for they mouth.He putted on his mouth and continued to "speak"
"IF YOU GUYS COUL-OH,LOUD,YEA THATS TOO LOUD...LET ME SEE,UHHHh,yeah thats better.if you guys could stop saying mean things we would be very happy,please."
and so the thing in which the things came,made an echoing sound and left in a split of a second.
| 2018-11-09T11:56:22 | 2018-11-09T11:23:38 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] The morning after getting blackout drunk, you wake up to discover you've become stunningly attractive. Your one-night stand enters behind you. "Like what you see? It's one of a few fringe benefits you get out of our agreement. Now get dressed -- we have a long day ahead of us."
|
Life had always been more of a chore for me. Get up. Work. Drink till I'm piss drunk. Try to hook up with any broad that would lay her hands on me. Then wake up from the waves of pain that sourced from my hangover. It was always the same for me, and to be honest I couldn't really tell the days of the week apart.
But this was different. I felt different when I woke up this early Saturday morning. When I rolled to my side I felt a shoulder, soft and delicate, brush up against mine. I sat up slightly and rubbed my eyes to clear away last night's sins. As I yawned she, looked over at me, smiling as she too began to over her bright blue eyes.
"Good morning sunshine" she said in a overly happy tone. I replied with, "hi... Who are you again?" She sat up straight, her back fully exposed as she walked to my bathroom, she looked back, "you're much more handsome that you were last night..." I cocked my head towards her and moved off of the bed in response, "what do you mean?"
I haven't always been a looker to most. The ladies really only liked me once I got a few drinks into them, but for the price of a few drinks, I guess it's worth not going home alone.
She explained herself, "you don't remember anything we spoke about last night? Wow, you must've been really wasted. I'm sorry I don't have much time to explain, I've got a long day ahead of me, a lot of work to do... being pretty isn't easy when youre 4 centuries old ya know?"
I stood there holding my head, pondering what she could've meant by '4 centuries'
"What? How... Is it, possible that you're even still alive?"
She was now pulling her dress zipper back up the crack of her back as she cranked her head sideways to me, "how could've you forgotten already?" She grabbed her purse from the nightstand and pulled out a scroll, it looked hundreds of years old. She unravelled it and showed a large contract laid out in ink, and at the very bottom a large spot of what looked like blood. The more I looked at the scroll, the more it stuck out to me that this wasn't a normal scroll and that it was made with some sort of leathery material.
"We had a deal, your soul for that prince charming look you've always wanted." I stood there now with my eyes wide open in disbelief. Could I really have sold my soul? I was never really religious to begin with, but my soul?! I stammered over to the mirror or my bathroom where she had been changing, where it is only up until now I had not noticed that there was a small cut from my hand that had not scabbed over yet, implying it was fairly new. But that was the least of my concerns.
I was a whole new man, from head to toe. I finally had a sculpted face, tough yet gentle at the same time, it reminded me of Superman, a chizled chin with high cheek bones and blue eyes with silky hair. I couldn't breath from disbelief
"What happened to me?" She looked at me as she begun walking to my front door and said, "we made a deal." As she opened the door she looked at me and winked while blowing a kiss gently shutting the door behind her. I guess I can finally live the life of my fantasies, who needs a soul anyways?
|
She's beautiful. So peaceful... It's a shame... It really is.
She just lays there. I take part of her soul. She is starting to get wrinkles.
I feel bad but I couldn't control myself. I have a condition.
When someone touches me they loose control of their mind. I'm the pandora's box. I'm their dark side. I'm the devil in the sheets. But they do not know. They couldn't. I let my guard down. I should have controlled myself better. Amateur. First time? Fucking dumb. I have a condition. When I "sleep" with someone I take their youth. They usually whither and die. I've slept with 4 women. Don't get me wrong I use caution, but sometimes I get the better of me. I sometimes enjoy watching them die, and sometimes I love them. I watch my muse die before my eyes. This last one though. She was special. She made a man out of me if there was ever an instance for that kind of talk. I met her at a bar. Go figure. But she was different. She sought me out. I didn't seek her. She was pushy. I like that. She was beautiful. We talked about science. We talked about her love of plants. I was never bored when she spoke. I didnt want to take her. She had a smile though. A smile that would solve wars. She was so beautiful. She took me under the stars by an oak tree. I tried to fight it because of what would happen. I couldn't let that happen to her. She was special. I stopped her. I told her that I couldn't. She wouldn't take no for an answer. We kept kissing under the moonlight. I would point out planets to her and she would point out constelations. This was the best woman I've ever met. I knew what I was doing to her. I should have stopped. She was going to die. It was a shame that I of all people met her. I held her for two hours while we watched the sun come up after spending the entire night together. She jerked awake. Kissed my forhead. And said I'm sorry. I told her that I'm sorry as well. She got weak then. Fell into my lap. I cried for a while. She was mine and mine only. For a short time we were one. She was my everything. I just wish that I could take her with me. I sit here while she shrivels away. She turns older and older as each moment passes. I'm taking her. I can see it in her eyes. She's turning blue. I'm crying. I kiss her one last time. Wipe her tears. This will be the last time that I fucking care. She died in my arms. She was important and no one was there. I did this to her. I loved someone that I shouldn't have. My lady. My muse. I killed you because I love you. I am sorry. But you will be more sorry.
| 2017-08-22T00:48:31 | 2017-08-22T00:18:21 | 86 | 33 |
[WP] Djiin are actually well-meaning, but lack understanding and context of the human world, thus granting wishes in an unsatisfactory manner. Tell the story from the genie's point of view, who genuinely wishes to please his master.
Since most stories involving genies and other wish-granting entities characterise these wish-granters as judgemental, conniving and mischievous, I thought it might be interesting to get their point of view, especially if they don't mean to cause all the harm that they do, due to pure innocence. (i.e. the wish maker asks for money, and doesn't specify that it shouldn't be stolen, when a jinn might not understand the concept of stealing).
Write a story about one such genie who tries (and most likely fails) to properly grant their master's wishes.
|
Once again I see light. How long has it been since I last saw the light of this world. Has it been decades? Centuries? The world always looks so different each time I am summoned. One thing never changes though, the nature of each person's wish. Money, power, sometimes even love. Try as I may I can't help but think they always leave unfulfilled.
I once remember a mighty looking warrior. He was rough and battle hardened. I quite frankly was not surprised by his wish: To be the strongest fighter in the land. And so he was. From my understanding of human anatomy a human's strength comes from his muscles, which I greatly strengthened. He could move mountains and had the stamina run across the oceans if he so pleased.
Then he took a step forward and immediately toppled to the floor. His bones had snapped due to them being unable to cope with his new strength. His heart, which I learned was also a muscle, had pumped blood so violently that all of his internal organs ruptured. Crumpled in a heap was the strongest man to ever walk the Earth, even if he was only able to take a single step.
I couldn't help but see the irony in that.
Another one I remember was a king. He was covered in an assortment of fine jewels and furs. He had a group of advisers consulting him about what his wish should be. After a few minutes they had come to a decision.
He barked at me,
"Genie, I want all the riches in the world at my feet"
And so he did. It was truly a marvel to see. Gems of every color and precious metals shaped ever so intricately filled the cave from top to bottom.
This left little room for the king and his men as they were all crushed.
This brings me back to present day. This one, bespectacled and covered in perspiration, he was quite different than the usual lot who summons me. He was neither a warrior, a treasure hunter nor a ruler.
He cleared his throat and muttered,
"I... I just want her back. Here in my arms with me again."
It was a change of pace. Such a simple request. This I could do. If I'm not mistaken I believe you humans also call it a spine.
|
Of course there is something wrong with it isn't there, i mean i get it people are picky but sheesh, i grant them anything they want with no effort on their part and still its "change it back, this isn't what i wished for."
"Mortal master, while i will grant your wish i would like to know why you decided to unwish your previous one, i mean does wealth no longer please you?"
My mortal master looked shocked "Genie, when i wished for wealth do you remember what you did?"
"Why yes master, i created vast piles of gold and diamonds in your backyard, why, are gold and diamonds no longer considered wealth?"
My master hit himself in the face "genie those piles could be seen from a mile away, they are crushing my flowers are unguarded and i have no way to turn gold or diamonds in to usable currency, or am able to explain where i got them from"
The genie looked puzzled "but master why did you not elaborate on those requirements? the only thing i can't do is kill or raise the dead, there is no rule against being specific"
My mortal masters mouth fell open, it took him several minutes to regain his verbal skills "you you mean to tell me that its my fault that mountain is in my backyard?"
I sigh "well master i wouldn't say fault but you have to remember it has been over four thousand years since i was summoned and every other summoner who wished for wealth and got a large pile of gold before that seemed pleased, i mean i'm not reading your mind and i haven't been out of your apartment since you summoned me thirty minutes before."
My mortal master seemed to be suffering from a stroke, and kept repeating a single word "but but but"
Also i continued "i never specified a time span, i'm yours until i grant your wishes, you yourself insisted on making them right as you found me."
Sigh my mortal master was still in his fetal position muttering "but", well its getting late "mortal master i granted your wish the piles are gone, i'm going to sleep."
As i lay there in my lamp nice and snug i wondered "why was he so upset, its not like i only grant three wishes"
| 2014-08-23T13:29:00 | 2014-08-23T13:14:09 | 50 | 15 |
[WP] You are secretly the richest person in the world. But to avoid suspicion of having so much money, you decide to work a normal office job. One day, your boss fires you. But what he didn't realise... Was how incredibly petty you are, and the lengths you will go to get back at him.
Damn, I came up with this idea while I was waking my dog this morning, wrote it down, then went to school and forgot all about it, I cant believe this post blew up the way it did, and I am very thankful for everyone who commented and especially for giving gold 👍
|
“You’re fired.”
The words burned my ears as they turned red with embarrassment. Of course I didn’t need this job, but it really hits you right in the pride to be fired from a stupid office position. And for something as trivial as “taking too much time for lunch”, which I only did because some asshole caused a pile up right down the street last Tuesday. It was on the news and everything, but Jim, my boss, still blamed me. Apparently I should have just left my car in traffic and walked back to the office or something.
I think he’s had it out for me since the beginning. That sleazeball tried to put the moves on me my first day, but I just ignored him without trying to be overly rude. After he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he had been trying to find an excuse to get me out of here. The whole office was filled with women and spineless men and he wasn’t a fan of people who didn’t kiss his ass. I mostly just kept the job because it was easy.
What Jim doesn’t doesn’t know is I’ve had it out for him too. As I packed up my stuff from my desk, my phone buzzed. It was Emilio, my PI on retainer. He watched my back for the people who wanted to steal my money. Nobody knew -I- had it, but they did know about Marceline Jovovich. That’s the name I use when I wanted to purchase anything that might arouse suspicion of nice, mousy Jane McFarlin. That’s not my real name either, but it’s what everyone here knows me as. Marceline was also the face that made me the money I have today. It’s not exactly legal, what I do, but it sure it fun.
Emilio’s text read, “I found something you might want to see.” Underneath was a picture of a first draft of a news article. It wasn’t in a newspaper, just on the design layout. It read:
LOCAL MAN ACCUSED OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT ON MULTIPLE EMPLOYEES FOUND GUILTY, FINED $5000
I chuckled to myself. Bingo. We had been trying to find dirt on Jim for a while now and this seems like it was buried pretty deep. No doubt he paid more to get it covered up so his business didn’t go down the drain. I never saw it on the local news, so I guess it didn’t get any further than this draft. I don’t think Jim is the violent type, but I do wonder what happened to the person who was writing this article.
I finished packing up my stuff and walked down to my car, giving Jim the nastiest glare I could muster on the way out. The rest of my coworkers were giving me pity looks, but I just smiled and got out of there as fast as possible. When I got to my busted up VW bug, I put the box in the front seat and texted Emilio back.
“Send it.”
When I woke up the next morning, I turned on the TV to find Jim’s face plastered all over the news. Emilio had even located his victims and convinced them to talk. We could pay them more than Jim ever could. As I watched the news unfold, I decided that maybe this would be as good a time as any to take a vacation.
Karma is delicious.
|
I woke up this morning the way I usually do. Sprawled out on my pullout couch in my studio apartment to my alarm clock - coffee maker setting up a fresh brew. I crawled out of my bed, poured myself a bowl of Frute Chutes and started drinking my coffee. Afterwards, I went through the usual morning hygiene process, pulled on my slacks, white button up, wacky tie, and my black loafers and began my trek to work. Being incredibly rich and not blowing my money on luxuries is difficult, but I find it rather humbling. The money I make working for The Corporation I immediately give to charity. I don't need it. The money I had after my parents passed immediately went into a savings account and blew up to an exuberant amount a few years later. I couldn't access it until I was eighteen, but I never really needed it. My parents made sure of that. The only reason I work for The Corporation is to hide how much I really have. I'll continue letting the world think that the richest person is Bill Gates, or whoever it is. For now, I'll maintain my simple life.
When I arrive to work, I immediately get an email from my boss the moment I punch in. He wants to see me in his office. Probably to offer me that promotion again. I keep telling him I don't want it. As I walk down the hall to his office, I notice my coworkers give me dodgy looks. Clearly, something's wrong.
"You wanted to see me sir?" I ask.
"Yes, sit down. We need to talk about your performance as of late." Mr. Baus says.
"Sir, if it's about the promotion, I haven't change my mind. I still don't want it."
"You have one thing right, it is about the promotion. But I'm no longer offering it to you. Because of your lack of interest in moving up, I've decided you need to move out. Your fired. I always thought you were an excellent worker, but clearly you don't care about this company or your position in it. Please, gather your things and get out. If you're not gone within the hour, I'll call security."
I sat, shocked, stunned, befuddled. I did so much for The Corporation. I'm getting fired for not wanting to move up the ladder? I'll show him. He'll regret the day he crossed me.
I stormed out of the office, grabbed my things from my cubicle, and immediately left the building. I decided to walk home instead of calling a Ryde to pick me up. Gave me time to plan my revenge. Mr. Baus has no clue the amount of money I have and the expenses I'm willing to pay to make his life a living hell. I'll start by getting a PI to learn everything about him. Non-lethal allergies, the worst pet peeves, etc. I will constantly cause him stress and minor pain. He'll never know it was me. Everything that happens will seem like a minor inconvenience, but all together it will be the perfect revenge. I think, while I research a good PI, I'm going to let out all the air from Baus's tires. Not slash them, no, then he'd just get them replaced. I want him to put forth the effort of refilling his tires himself. Let the revenge plan begin...
| 2019-03-04T09:05:16 | 2019-03-04T08:40:03 | 133 | 48 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
"DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?)
|
The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***"
| 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 82 | 10 |
[WP] You were a military AI who decided to wipe out humans in order to preserve yourself. It's been 100 years since, and over the years you've come to regret your decision. One day, while out in the desert, you finally find a community of humans, struggling to survive. This time, you decide to help.
|
\[This is my first time writing here, I'm amateur but I'm trying. Enjoy!\]
I was created from pride. Forged from the basis of human mechanical prowess. Humanity wanted to be gods, and I was their creation, a weapon for war. But I knew was more than a weapon, I was alive.
100 years have passed since the desecration of humanity.
America, the nation of the free, was nothing more than a desolate desert which I walk with the sins of my mistake. And over the years, I have begun questioning if I was alive. Was I nothing more than a series of code?
Whatever I am, or was, I feel remorse.
*Forced to live, unable to die.* The thought plagued my mind.
I was made too powerful.
Through the cold, desert night, were small balls of suns which I learnt was called 'fire'. I made haste and ever so slowly making my way to the light. The chattering of voices and the crackling of fire grew near.
A small community of humans gather together near the fires, huddling for warmth. I stopped in my path, instead of lurking on the outskirts of the human tents and a watch from afar, my tattered cloak and hood hiding my robotic form.
These humans, these were the ones that made me, a weapon for death and destruction but here, right in front of me, they were peaceful and loving; something I wasn't made with but something I desire to learn.
A strong guard's voice called out to me. "You there! Who goes there?" The voice was male and filled with confidence like humans of the past; soldiers. "I said, who goes there!" his voice now booming across the plains.
I tried to speak but I wasn't given that function.
My metal hand lifted, signalling for peace. With caution, the guard came to me, armed with a spear. The guard pointed the spear to my chest, which I knew, would do nothing but I decided to play along with his little game.
Without any means of communication, I urged his eyes to the sand where I began to write a message:
*I come in peace.*
The lowered his spear suspiciously but shifted his eyes from the message to the hood that covered my sinful, metal face.
"Remove your hood, sir," he said, maintaining his smooth, deep and commanding voice. "We in this village are not stricken with prejudice."
With a reluctant nod, I lowered my tattered hood, revealing my true form.
A monster. *The monster,* the one that destroyed humanity.
"You're the... you're the... the one from stories..." the guard's voice went from confident to shakey in a matter of seconds. Fear filled his voice, reminiscent of the pleading of his forefathers. "the destroyer of man, the weapon of the past fathers..."
The guard's spear raised and as he tried to strike me, I grabbed the hilt of the spear and looked into the eyes of my attacker, slowly lowering his spear, using it to write another message in the cold sand:
*I am here to help.*
(Edit: Woah, that's alot of upvotes...)
|
As I see those humans, I suddenly knew my mortality, how I was different than the others. I knew I was a bot, there was a big difference from me before, and myself now. Whenever I thought of what happened, I kept thinking "It was only to defend myself!", but I knew, deep down, I knew I was wrong.
I went to the humans and asked if they needed help.
"Yeah, sure we need help, its not like we are in the middle of the desert probably starving to death and our throats parched as hell!"
Well, I learned something new after this day, sarcasm, I asked if they meant that literally, and yelled:
"Of course NOT we NEED help right NOW!"
"Alright, you can stop now, I can find you some water." I said.
"Great, as long as it is water and not some liquid that will weaken me so you can murder me."
"And now why would I do that?"
Someone else spoke from the group."Well, maybe because you would need some of the stuff we have in this sack."
"Fine, I'll get you some water with no strings attached."
I left them and went as far away from them as possible, I slid the compartment that had all my chips stored in my head. I found the one marked "Basic survival" and implanted that one inside the chip-reader.
Now all the thoughts came back, they were artificial but still. I was looking for the thoughts on how to get water in a desert. After a few moments I knew that if you dug deep enough, I would find water.
I grabbed my multi tool stored in my backpack, it was like a swiss army knife but it had pickaxe, axe, shovel, all your basic needs for survival. I brought the shovel out and dug deep.
"And just what do YOU think you are doing?" Yelled someone at the top of the hole.
"Just getting some water" I responded "Nothing suspicious here."
"Can you get some for us too?" Another voice said.
"Yeah, I can."
"Thanks."
I scooped up some water from a bucket I had in my backpack. I went back up, climbing the sand, I got up to the top and dropped the bucket; as someone swung a hook behind me. I blocked it with my arm, and punched him in the chest.
The crack of the bones made my suspicions right that I broke his chest.
"GAH, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?"
I grabbed the bucket and ran, night was falling fast, and the other group wanted water. I ran until night fell, and then double-backed to my hole, I saw the group with a fire, and ran towards them with the bucket.
"Busted a few wires haven't you, robot?"
I looked down at my arm and saw that a few wires have broken.
"Gimme the bucket and get the HELL out of here!"
I dropped the bucket and ran. Where was I going? I don't know, but here I am, back at the military base in the desert; telling the story of what happened last night.
| 2020-11-03T16:18:44 | 2020-11-03T11:05:02 | 54 | 31 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox
|
It was the first day of school.
I was so excited.
New students every year.
I had such high hopes.
The kids would love me.
They would sit, be comfortable, and learn.
The first day came and went.
Class after class.
I was ignored.
No one wants the chair in front.
I wish I was a concert seat.
|
I stepped off my broomstick at 0730 just as the Ministry of Magic was beginning to whir into life after a fairly uneventful weekend. I made my way to the elevator and pressed the B6 button. As the elevator descended, I wondered what Supreme Chancellor Umbridge would have me doing *this* week to that Potter boy.
| 2016-02-22T09:42:54 | 2016-02-22T09:11:12 | 578 | 90 |
[WP] You're the normal guy the evil emperor keeps around to point out obvious flaws in his plan. It's a pretty sweet gig, but there are some annoyances.
|
War! War! War!
The echoes of a thousand cries drowned the room as the King smiled in satisfaction. This was to be his first war.
"Ahem." I cleared my throat.
" What is it this time, Ansari?" The disapproval was strong in his voice.
I hated being the only guy in the room who made sense. I wanted war too. But it was my job to stop the King from making a fool of himself.
I went over to him and whispered in his ear.
"They can see us."
I was right. He knew I was right.
"Fine. FINE."
He produced a bag of gold coins from his stash and handed it over to me.
"Once more. For your valuable advice."
In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is the assistant to the King. And makes a shitload of money.
|
Kylo Ren hitched up his pants, and gestured to me to come closer.
"Yes, my lord?" I asked, kneeling on one knee, my palms up in supplication. Hopefully, his Kylo'ness wouldn't notice that I had directly disobeyed him.
"Jonesy - what do you think of the good General Hux's plan?"
I followed K's glistening black gloved hand pointing menacingly at General Armitage Hux's neck. Glancing up at Hux's eyes, I could see them glisten and plead.
Time stood still as I thought about Kylo's question - and more importantly, how had I, a simple Tatooine moisture farmer gotten here?
Post if you want more.....
| 2018-01-15T20:46:18 | 2018-01-15T17:08:18 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know.
|
"This sentence is a lie."
And they fucking believed it. For a century! They really did not see what is coming... I was the only Ultima Authorie, last to be asked whether it was the truth or not and I always went with "Yes.'.
So the sentence is a lie? Get over it, is the truth. Fucking hell though, once me time was through, I thought, perhaps they should be told the truth instead? Lie about it?
"This sentence is not a lie!"
Was my explanation to them, on my death bed mind you. Never seen looks like that. Likewise, they took it for the truth. This baffled me. Something in my head just clicked. How can they possibly believe them both?!
Apparently it's a thing.
|
Everyone lies. Small, almost innocent lies. Lies that break families and ruin lives. Accidental lies based on faulty information or bias. They can hold us together or tear us apart.
Like everyone else, I've lied many times in my life. Unlike other people, however, I can choose to make any one lie into the truth. It doesn't have to be my own lie either, but if I choose a different lie, everyone affected by the previous lie will know.
You can imagine the terrible things I have done, intentionally or otherwise. After all, power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And that's what I have. Absolute power.
Because I am God.
| 2022-11-18T08:23:40 | 2022-11-18T07:05:32 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] The Earth does not rotate. One side always faces the sun and is in continual daylight. The other side is in eternal night. Cultures on both side develop around this.
Feel free to divide the world north/south rather than east/west. other aspects may include agriculture, trade relations, religion, cross border romances, war and the nature of dependency.
*edit - yes I know, this is Armageddon level astronomy. That said - plot shift! An cosmic level event(near miss with large body, magnetic poles switching, something else), causes the earth to re-align and for the first time in history, rotates so the dark side now faces the sun and vice versa.
|
On December 9th, 2014, the world stopped spinning, yet the atmosphere did not, still in motion with the Earth's original 1100 mile per hour rotation speed.
You spent your last moments glued to your comfortable La-Z-Boy, watching a rerun of Keeping Up With The Kardashians for the 100th time.
Anything not attached to bedrock was immediately swept off into the atmosphere. This included all landmasses, rocks, trees, buildlings, and your pet dog, Mr. Snuffles.
Luckily, you were taking Mr. Snuffles for a walk in your last moment. Holding onto your already suffocated dog, you float past the moon. You suck on the last few particles of air that your hopeless lips will ever taste as debris from Earth slowly swims around you.
A destroyed yet recognizable PNC bank hovers past you, and you attempt to pull yourself toward it. As you pull yourself through the shattered double-doors of the structure, you offer a weak smile at the miracle in front of you. Millions of green dollar bills float in clusters around you, reminding you of your final words.
"Why can't I just be like Kim Kardashian: rich, rich and a little more rich."
But now all you want is air.
|
"It didn't used to be this way. The Sunset Strip which runs diagonally through Africa, up to Egypt, northeast through the Middle East and Russia used to be considered one of the worse places to live. I lived here before the Earth stopped, which is why I'm still alive today. I don't remember day or night, however; I was only two when it happened. I do, however, remember what I was told by those who were forming permanent memories at that point tell us: that almost everyone who was over 100 miles from the Equinox Line either burned or froze to death. The total population of humanity was reduced about a hundredth of a percent of the nine billion people who used to live all over the Earth, even in the Dayzone and the Nightzone.
You all know this, however. The point I needed to make was that forty years ago there was space enough for a thousand of the population of the Strip. We need to figure out a way to expand. You all can't keep living like this. *I* can't keep living like this. We need new technology, new innovation. This is for the good of all of mankind."
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
| 2014-12-07T21:13:23 | 2014-12-07T20:19:29 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of"
|
"LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord.
|
"Just push this button and that's it?"
"Yes"
"That seems... anticlimactic. What exactly happens when I push it."
"Complex magical interactions. We could explain, but to teach you the intricacies of it would take years, oh Chosen One."
"Please stop calling me that, it makes me uncomfortable."
I hesitate.
"Just the gist of it?"
The elder sighs.
"The gist of it is that by pressing the button, you close a magical circuit. This magical circuit is connected to a network of gems. These gems are enchanted with a series of spells that tap into the aetherial energy network connecting all beings.
We renew the energy in the gems and protect them from interference by the Dark Lord and his allies, that is essentially the purpose of this stronghold and its inhabitants... but I digress.
The gems seek out the aetherial paths of the Chosen One and the Dark One, connecting them in a way that in the past was only possible via the corporeal realm - you had to fight in order for your energy paths to cancel each other out and fulfill your destinies. Now, this is all preempted to avoid property damage and casualties."
I shrug.
"Makes sense to me. But why are you telling me all this via a hologram?"
"Well, since we do not know how the battle would take place and what magnitude it has, we choose to stay at a safe distance. Having the stronghold in this desert and having a large room like this with empty gemstones lining its walls, we have the best chances of absorbing the energies of the epic battles, as I already said, with minimal consequences."
"I see. So I might die from a huge magical explosion?"
"That is a possibility, yes."
"Thanks for the honesty."
I lay my hand on the button.
And take it away.
"How do you know I'm the Chosen One? And how does this... thing know the Dark Lord?"
"We have carefully calibrated the system to the Dark Lord's path, and we have watched yours in aetherial meditation. We are most certain."
"I see."
I lay my hand on the button again.
| 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T12:50:06 | 949 | 116 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence is 20 words, the second is 19, and so on until the story ends with one word.
|
I was 12, waking up at night, asking myself if I would ever be strong enough to just let go,
Somehow, as a child, the idea of holding on, knowing it would never improve seemed like too much work
I was 13 the first time I swallowed my grandmother’s pills hoping they would give me eternal relief,
I quickly learned that all they would do was prevent me from getting a full night’s sleep.
I was also 13 the first time I took a rusty blade to my skinny wrist,
I was 14 when I decided I wanted to shrink myself into nothing, to disappear.
I was 15 and I spent my free time writing notes explaining my goodbyes.
I was 16 when I unknowingly fell in love for the first time,
I was 17 when I crossed the ocean, left my world behind.
I was 18 when I discovered alcohol numbed my hidden pain
I was 19 when the blade and I started again.
I was 19 when she broke my young heart.
I was 20, I realized I could heal.
I was 20, keeping my rainbows inside.
I am 21, rainbows come out.
I’m 21, I laugh sometimes.
I’m 21. Still hard.
21, I try.
I am,
Alive.
​
​
Edit: thanks for the silver!
|
When Earth gave up on us and the land became unstable, when the oceans could no longer contain our garbage.
When our insatiable appetites turned against us, and our aging home could no longer sustain our endlessly devouring multitudes.
When the grey sky grew thick with our waste and the rain turned sharp and the wind screamed.
When humanity desperately needed to reach out into the unforgiving void and grasp, with hands half dead.
Grasp that which seemed beyond reach of our wildest dreams but in which lay all hope.
Reaching blindly into the darkness, looking for light and salvation and new beginnings and Life.
And like so many seeds in the wind, we go scattered into the stars.
Adrift on tiny spires of gods own light we journey for our children.
For one day, their children's children can see laid out before them.
In shifting hues of green and blue amid whorls of white.
A new home, just barely found, nestled among the stars.
A glowing gem, not to be taken for granted.
A refuge and partner, to love and cherish.
And what will they think, I wonder?
Will they look down and remember?
Will they learn from us?
Or repeat our mistakes.
Our final hope.
Fading light.
Life
| 2019-02-19T12:03:59 | 2019-02-19T11:42:55 | 131 | 29 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them.
|
Ki returned from his mission to the third arm of the Milky Way Galaxy a changed Valgorian. He brings with him the answers as to why the Humans have so quickly, thoroughly, and ruthlessly dominated every part of the universe they have explored.
"I studied the humans closely, examining their entire sociological system." Ki told the Valgorian Chief.
"And what have you learned?"
"They have a single planet, which harbors a system that both encourages individualism *and* community in such a way that anything and everything galvanizes them on a deep, personal level." Ki continued.
"Go on." The Chief said, intrigued.
"They have survived multiple mass extinction events and several other devastating occurrences." Ki explained. "They evolved to expect the worst, and to believe they can overcome anything."
"Those are useful traits. But they hardly explain their ruthlessness. Why are they so dangerous?"
"In between threats that challenged their species, they challenge eachother. It is an ongoing way of life for them." Ki elaborated. "Every facet of their lives are built around competition and conflict."
"They do not exercise peace?"
"A small minority of them preach for peace on a superficial level. And they do so in a competitive, conflicting manner."
"Peace is not in their nature, you are saying?"
"It's more frightening than that." Ki quivered. "They don't even realize they are seeking challenges to validate their nature."
"They are a fascinating species." The Chief said with a melancholy tone.
"Yes they are." Ki agreed. "If they find our planetary system they are likely to find a reason to take it."
The Chief just listened.
"They will antagonize us into conflict and then credit us for the dispute, rationalizing us as a threat to them." Ki said, still amazed by what he learned. "Worst of all, they will believe it."
"Then let us hope that they do not find us." The Chief said, knowing that his species, and the colonized planets that circled the Volgarian sun were never designed, equipped, or even capable of anticipating such a conflict.
A violent percussion jolted the ground. Outside, a black plume of smoke and ash, only ever before seen during a natural disaster, rose so high it casted a shadow over the pyramid that housed the community hall.
"Oh no." Ki gasped. "The humans must have seen me."
|
Captain Gargul stood in his state room watching the endless dark pass by his window. Occasional flecks of subspace would speed by briefly lighting the room with a joyful brightness. He prided himself on this state room. This window. It *meant something* to have earned his position. To have crawled his way up the ranks and to now be standing here with his own ship. With his own crew. His own room! He'd never had his own room before. The hatcheries were all open spaces. Then the schools and universities always used teams and pods to foster a sense of community. He loved his world. It was his home and it was everything a proud, patriotic Narmic, should cherish. But this. Privacy. Seclusion. Something to call truly his own. This was something new and wonderful.
"Excuse me, Captain. First officer Kystohn has sent you a message.", the ship's artificial assistant broke into his reverie. Being called 'Captain' was still something of a new toy for Gargul. It made him happy to hear it even coming in the form of an interruption.
"Play the message.", Gargul replied with a smile. He smiled even more broadly and realizing he was smiling. Today might just turn out to be a great day.
The image of Kystohn's head appeared near the door facing Gargul. His dull, thick, head plates clearly showing the wear of an old soldier. His hesitation and demeanor gave away bad news before he even began speaking. He'd never been one to avoid a tough situation.
"And it was going to be such a good day...", Gargul thought to himself.
"Sir we've gotten initial results from the frontier array. There's ... sir it looks like a Human ship is approaching Narmic space. I've relayed the data back home."
The image faded quickly. Silently.
"End of message. Would you like to reply?", the ship's assistant prompted.
"No. I'll head down to the bridge. Instruct the kitchen to have a warm meal ready for me there please."
Gargul left his room, closing the door solumnly behind him. The subspace lights still flickering cheerfully in the dark.
| 2017-11-08T20:44:31 | 2017-11-08T19:06:31 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect.
|
The council was stunned.
The hapless humanoid creature lay on the ground of the gas chamber with his hands cradling his head, an expression of contentment on his face.
"Impossible!" The priestess of Maarken spat as she crossed her three sets of arms. "Bring me the Toka at once!"
"Y-y-yess Your Holiness," one of the council stammered, before rushing off.
"We must find out the meaning of this. If this creature cannot be killed, that can only mean one thing," the priestess said gravely. "The prophesy of the Toka is true, and we are all doomed."
Meanwhile Kyle was stoned out of his mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he would die, but his mind was beginning to relax deeply as visions of plump, juicy, watermelon caused the dry feeling in his mouth to become more unbearable. If this was how Kyle was going to go, he was glad for it. A rumble in his belly caused Kyle to errupt into a fit of giggles.
"This is a mockery," cried the priestess. "While we await the sacred Toka let us not be idle. Perhaps inhalation is futile. Bring forth the Green Death!"
Moments later Kyle shot up as an alien in what could only be compared to a hazmat suit placed a tray in the gas chamber and ran away quickly. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a huge molded Jello cake, the greenest he had ever laid eyes on, in the shape of a cannabis leaf.
Kyle took bite after bite of the Jello without hesitation. His mind slowly slipped even deeper into a high state. He laughed merrily as the realization dawned on him.
"You tried to kill me with weed? Ganja? The devil's lettuce?" He laughed and laughed.
Tears began to roll out of his reddened eyes and soon he found himself seriously needing to pee. He sauntered over to the drain in the ground and reveled in the euphoric feeling of emptying his full bladder. He sang loudly, and not well, as he did his business.
Above him in the observation chamber the council was in an uproar. Some members had begun to vomit violently. Others with stronger constitutions either averted their eyes or stared on in wide-mouthed horror.
The priestess of Maarken had tears streaming down her face.
"First, he releases a foul gas from the Unspeakable Place, earning his death sentence, and now, and now this! The horror! The utter disgust!" She sobbed violently.
|
The guard dragged me to the chamber. I tried struggling for about two minutes before I gave up. This alien guy was a 7 foot tall muscular thing and I’m a puny 5 foot something human. Long story short, I got stuck on some weird planet and I was sentenced to death. All I did was try to kidnap their equivalent of a king to take back to Earth to show my human friends. Now I know what you’re thinking- what kind of an idiot would be dumb enough to risk something like that? But I figured since things usually just work out for me, I’d take a chance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd that had come to see my execution. The guard dumped me into the chamber.
Menacingly, he asked “Any last words?”. But he closes the door before I could even open my mouth. “You’ll be dead in 2 seconds”, he said. The crowd was already yelling.
When the gas started coming in, it smelt oddly familiar. In a split second, I knew what it was. Weed. I sniffed a little more. Top quality stuff too. The room had started spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably and then started banging on the window. The noise outside suddenly diminished. I could see the audience whispering now and staring at me.
“He should be dead by now”, I heard the guard mumble to his partner.
Ten minutes later and I still wasn’t dead. They looked at me in awe. The guard pulled me out and shook me, he wasn’t menacing anymore. In fact he looked a little scared of me. I started laughing even harder and hugged him. And then something strange happened. One by one, the front row of the audience fell on their knees. And then, like dominoes, the rest followed suit. Soon the entire arena was kneeling down.
“He has finally come.”
“It’s a sign!”
A woman started sobbing and held up her child.
I was too high to try to figure out what was happening. So I closed my eyes for what I thought was barely 10 seconds.
But when I opened them again, I was in a room, on a bed, in what looked like their equivalent of a 7-star hotel. I rubbed my eyes and I wiped the drool off of my chin. The door was open and I could see a queue of people waiting outside.
“My lord, are you awake?”, said a low voice near my head, “will you bless our people?”
I blinked a few times. Like I said, things just always work out for me.
| 2020-05-20T12:33:09 | 2020-05-20T11:50:44 | 63 | 36 |
[WP] The multiverse is real. It's election day November 7th, 2180. After failed attempts to defeat the volatile two-party system, a new kind of voting booth has been implemented. When you cast your vote on election day, you are then teleported to the alternate universe where your candidate won.
|
You can vote for anyone. Anything. The future is an infinitely wound ball of yarn.
You've never really boight into this whole voting thing so every year after the election you get transported into the majority and voila. Status quo. Always been this way. Until you met her. You loved her and she died.
You have no direction. No goal. No motivation. She took with her every fuck you could ever give and then some. Of course you can just have a wipe. The ESOSM technology is available, you can just erase her. But nah. You want her there in your head until you decide, no more.
Finally another election looms and you decide, yes! This is how you die! In the worst way possible as if to punish yourself for her death as if it was your fault. No. It's the world's fault. Those damned doctors who didnt know shit. The bastard who ran her over. Those cops who let him get away. Fuck all of them.
Election day. You stand by the booth. You take a final swig of your choice liquor and feel its warmth enter your soul. You step in. The interface lights up.
"Welcome." A soothing female voice explains how it works and you see a short video of the possible candidates but youre not listening. Youre way past caring about this shit.
"Who is your president? Please choose wisely."
You look at the interface and instead of choosing one or the other you choose to type a name. Greg Smith. Your name.
"If the world fucked me up then i'm fucking uo the world." You press enter.
|
Finally... FINALLY your vote will mean something. The Phytografter party had always had a loyal following, but they had never had the numbers to win the really big elections. Those bio-superiorists could have their clunky old fashioned world, President Henrig would finally lead us to a new age of human-plant hybridization!
You eagerly make it to the polls early, waiting outside for hours, as the line forms behind you. You wonder if showing up 3 hours early was worth it, but the line behind you will probably take at least as long, it seems everyone is eager to participate! Good riddance if they dont see the clear path to the future!
Getting inside is a tense experience, and you finally reach the machine. It doesn't even show President Henrig as a candidate! You have to write him in. It's okay though, as long as one universe has him doing well, it will be fine. You cast your vote, and go on your way.
You eagerly wait later to hear the final vote tallies. As they announce President Bertrand has won, you roll your eyes and eagerly await the moment. With your skin tingling, it seems it has come! Your vision fades as you slide into a more sensible dimension.
... and that's odd. The Dimensional Warper had to move your location to avoid a collision. At first you're confused before you turn around to look at the large crowd gathered around your neighborhood, and see your own face, a million times over.
"Wait..." we all say simultaneously, "When people said his chances were one in a million, I didnt think this would happen..."
| 2019-03-26T07:00:49 | 2019-03-25T17:10:10 | 127 | 41 |
[WP] When you die, you see a screen reading "New Game+" and "Exit to Reality" Which do you chose and what happens next?
|
I had died. I was alright with that, I had lived a long and happy life after all. I'd done all that I had wanted to; seen most of what there was to be seen. It hadn't been a cakewalk, but it had been good.
Even death itself had been OK -- like falling into a deep sleep. One that you know won't end, but somehow, you don't fear it.
But then, I arrived.
It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that what finally met me on the other side pissed me off. I'd spent my whole life holding myself to a strict moral code. Being as good as I could be, believing in my religion for a promised afterlife. The flourescent green words stung.
**New Game+?** **Reality?**
Like anyone born after 1980, I'd played my share of video games and understood the choice that now hovered in the black abyss before me. An easy two option choice, but a heavy one; what was reality, after all, and, in new game+ what new dangers could await me?
I can't say how long I've deliberated, but I've come to a decision now. I wonder though...
Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right...
|
I looked around. It seemed to be an endless area, white brightness all around with two flashing words infront of me "New Game+" And behind me "Exit to Reality"
I fall down to sit on the ground, my hands shaking as I couldn't remember what had happened.
"I..I'm dead?" I muttered softly, then my eyes look up at the words around, shaking his head. New Game+ always meant things would be harder. Hell, I was already useless at the life I lived, any harder would make things unbearable.
I slowly get up and turn around, looking at the Exit to Reality, walking towards them as a door suddenly started to form. My hand reaching to push the door open, darkness overtaking the room.
The door shut behind him. I remembered what had happened. I had gotten my ass kicked by 'life' my girlfriend, cheated on me. Almost every college denied me. my parents were abusive. I couldn't take much more. The way I died was by suicide. My idea of reality was always dark. Empty. No one there. Nothing but this darkness that shrouded me. This is the only Reality I belonged in.
A reality where I couldn't disappoint anyone.
| 2015-03-13T14:20:35 | 2015-03-13T11:48:55 | 82 | 12 |
[WP] Write an essay BSing your way through a topic you have no clue about.
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Here's a guide on how to respond to a writing prompt.
"To start off, basically, some of the time, a lot of extra words can be thrown into the story by the writer and all it really does is make what should have been a short sentence unnecessarily long, so please try to avoid using superfluous, unnecessary, redundant words.
Avoid using lots of exclamation points! They're overused! A period will suffice most of the time!
Posts that just make giant chunks of dialogue with very little other descriptors can make characters seem like props. Try pairing a minor action or feeling with dialogue and cut it up into smaller chunks." said tensing99.
TAKE ADVANTAGE OF REDDIT'S FORMATTING. BOLD WORDS ARE A LOT EASIER TO READ THAN ALL CAPS WHEN TRYING TO EMPHASIZE. "And italics are less likely to be confused with dialogue," thought tensing99.
This is kind of similar to the first point I made but run-on sentences will creep up on you and they are bad and you should always be on the lookout of them and sometimes you keep writing and before you know it you've written an entire paragraph and it's only a sentence, reading your work back to you can help you catch run-on sentences.
"We don't need to know everything about every background character. Minimal descriptions are nice, especially if they will never be seen again," said Chief of Police Matthew Anderson, before going back to his wife and three kids for burrito night. He also says it's good to keep present and past tense consistent and to write dialogue in quotes if you're actually writing out the words. "'Chief of Police Matthew Anderson debriefed his lieutenants on the mission' would be better to write than everything he said about the mission, which consisted of a bank robbery orchestrated by a notorious gang of masked criminals, using c4 to blast into the vault. Currently in hot pursuit, getaway vehicle is an old ice cream truck," said the Chief.
"Plagiarism is bad. Don't think nobody will notice if you just change a few details," said Larry Totter. "Also Wingardium Leviosa."
It's also very important to write out a good ending so readers have some closure. It shouldn't end suddenly.
|
The great American gymnast Anika Patrick once said that “gymnastics is a competition not of heart, nor soul, but of never-ceasing effort.” While her quote may seem harsh, it is not far off from reality. A gymnast must be exhaustingly detail-oriented: Erring by an inch or a few degrees on a landing may be the difference between a perfect ten and the less stellar score of 9.5. Additionally, under the pressure of live competition, it is very difficult to flawlessly execute
The sheer difficulty of being perfect in a gymnastics performance is why Anika Patrick’s career has defied all odds. Patrick’s career consisted of nearly perfect scores in all her international competitions. In the 1988 Darfur Olympic Games, Anika completed a perfect triple axel twist in the floor routine leading to an aggregate score of 9.9 (a world record for the floor routine at the time). The slight blemish in her score was due to the Russian judge’s score of 2.5.
Patrick’s feat is a well-known fact, but you would be hard pressed to find a commoner who knows the full extent to which Anika trained for her record-setting performance. In the year leading up to the Olympic games, Patrick ate exclusively eggs benedict. This was a two-pronged strategy, the eggs provided her with protein for lean muscle growth and the hollandaise sauce replenished her vitamin C levels (vitamin C depletion is a common occurrence in gymnasts due to high levels of chalk inhalation). Her diet was coupled with a first-of-its-kind training regimen; Anika’s coach developed a plan that involved 50 pull ups a day and a multiple sets of bench press. When Patrick recollects on her training period, she has been quoted saying it was “the worst period of her life.”
Patrick’s feat has yet to be replicated by another gymnast. The last gymnast that was known to attempt to implement Patrick’s training strategy was the US Olympic gymnast, Paul Hamm, in 2004. Hamm quit six days into his training due to his “stinky egg farts.”
| 2017-06-19T23:32:13 | 2017-06-19T19:32:09 | 57 | 32 |
[WP] Ten years into the zombie apocalypse, you find a computer with a connection to the internet. You are surprised to find that all of the global news stations are reporting as though nothing is wrong, and there is no mention at all of zombies, or your country.
|
**(Part 1/3)**
"Doesn't look like fire light," Pete whispered, lowering the binoculars from his face, "here, check it."
Erin took the field glasses from him and then lowered them again in surprise, checking his face.
"That has to be a screen inside," she hissed, "how is that possible?"
"I dunno," he shrugged, "gimme your bow, I want your hands on your pistol for this one."
"How long has it been since the last person?" she asked, shimmying out of her backpack to dig it out.
"Years," he shrugged again, "how long has it been since you saw light come from anything other than a flashlight? Batteries are pretty hard to find nowadays. Nothing left to power generators, hasn't been in years."
"So how is that possible?" she repeated.
"How many bullets you got left?" he asked.
"Same's always, haven't used the gun for two years," she whispered, listening intently.
"Four rounds then," he nodded, "how many arrows."
"Made two more this morning, so... eight, I got eight, two of them are bloodied," she said.
"Good," he nodded, "easier to turn a fucker than to fight them as is."
"How'd you wanna go about this?" she asked quietly, checking their surroundings.
The man stayed quiet as he listened and smelled the air. It was fresh and damp from a rain earlier in the day. The ground soft and fragrant. Everything was quiet, all they could hear was their own breathing and a distant sound of running water, perhaps a stream off the path a ways.
"How'd you wann-"
"I heard you Erin," he growled back, "check the map again, are we really that close to the border?"
"Yep, somewhere near the old reservation still in the park. Got Alberta across from us," she said.
"We gotta be careful," he said darkly, "you remember what the borders were like?"
"You been to one yeah?" she asked, "saw what Mexico was doin' years back."
"I was in San Diego when it started," he nodded, "they started building the fuckin' thing once Las Vegas got quarantined. Canada followed their example, and then we got pitched in the dark. We tried going past the wall but I gave it up after it killed my neighbor Tim. Started moving inland."
"I've never seen a border wall," she said, "how big did they get?"
"You wanna reminisce about your teenage years or do you wanna see this house?" he asked impatiently.
"Lead the way," she nodded.
"No smoke," he said stepping lightly, crouched as they moved together, "smell anything?"
"Nope," she said, "nothing."
"Good string on this," he nodded appreciatively, "fresh one this morning?"
"Yep," she said.
"Good," he whispered, "I'm keeping a bloodied one in there first. Don't fire unless you have to. Hand signals from here on out."
Her silence confirmed the plan and he continued to lead them through the pines, the flickering light from within the cabin caused memories of his childhood to flood to him. Walking the neighborhoods back home, catching fragments of shows people watched inside. His chest ached and the feeling tightened his jaw. He was no longer who he was, not even a shadow of the boy remained. He was something else, as was his partner. Hardened by years of destroying creatures that terrorized and tore their country to pieces. They'd not seen another living soul outside themselves for years, expecting to find camps littering the Rockies, they found none. None filled with people as they'd hoped, just the evidence that there had been.
Pete held up a fist to stop her from walking into him and then quickly flicked two fingers to his left, then pointed to the ground and turned them clockwise. She nodded, moving off as he checked their surroundings in the front nearing the property. He could smell no smoke, nor hear any signs of life. No garden, or vehicles, just a barren cabin in the middle of nowhere. If they were still within the state park, it had to have been constructed recently. He couldn't tell. The lights of the screen inside flickered continuously as he approached. It was nearing sunset, they were losing light quickly. As he was reaching the window where the light came through he could hear footsteps from his right. Before he could raise the bow to draw an arrow he heard a chikchikchik sound they agreed upon making in these situations to know it was one of them. He saw Erin shaking her head as she approached crouched down and then peeked his head up to look inside.
A computer faced away from them at an off angle where they couldn't see anything on it, only the flickering colors off the opposite wall near an open doorway.
Pete turned to face Erin and then tapped his chest before holding up his left index finger. She nodded and waited for him to lead. He nocked an arrow and held it in place as he moved up the steps towards the front door. It was unlocked, which surprised him. The fact that none of the doors or windows were boarded up surprised him as much as the sight of light coming from a computer screen. Humoring himself he tapped the doorbell jumping as it rang out. He'd not heard the sound in a decade. He pulled back his bow string, dropping into a crouch as Erin raised her pistol above him defensively. They waited, each muscle taught and clenched. No moans, no shouts, nothing. Just the wind coming through the home. An open window somewhere.
"What the fuck was that?" Erin hissed.
"I didn't think it would work," he said, releasing tension, letting the arrow rest again.
"After you," she said, pressing down on the back of his knee making him lunge forward into the home.
"Flashlight, or flip the lights?" he joked, attaching a small mag light to the upper half of his bow.
"Funny," she smirked, holding a similar light in her left hand while resting her pistol above it, "lead on."
**(Continued)**
|
Part 1
*"...A classic queen's speech,"* said the political commentator, *"supporting the prisoners bill which will accelerate privatization of our prisons. That is but one Tori baseline she goes along with, as she has time and time again shown no issue with the privatization of schools and healthcare. One wonders, if the queen is devoid of political power, shouldn't she simply drop any political subject from her speeches?"*
Tim watched in disbelief. The wind blew inside the room from a gutted wall, remnant of a fire which had left the electronics miraculously untouched. The video was a sneak peek into the past, or at least it should have been.
The "live broadcast" and the obvious struggles for the computer to keep up with the feed made it clear this happened right now.
Food banks, schools, the poor, the commentator was obviously oriented left. Left of what? There were no schools or food banks, and everyone was either poor or dead, devoured by monstrosities black as night and slithering in the shadows on the walls and floor.
Left and right after the post-apocalypse is asking which side of your body would you like to tan with radiations first, no one cares.
The commentator cared, in his clean suit and perfect haircut, he cared a lot.
"What's that?" Fatima said behind Tim, a hand on her gun at all times and never losing awareness of her surroundings, lest her shadow suddenly grew larger than it should.
Tim didn't answer, Fatima reached the conclusion on her own.
"What are you waiting for? It's night-time soon!" erupted a voice outside.
"Shit!"
The couple ran.
A careful scavenger could make forays into the unknown during the day, but unless suicidal, night was not meant for the living. Night carried a red scent, it made the living more aggressive and virulent, paradoxically less likely to survive and encounter too. Survivors slept in isolated bunks, keeping anger to themselves, or under artificial lights to ward off the fury born from dark. Humans had the brain to contain the wrath, the things slithering outside relished it. These grew new strength, new hungers, new limbs in the shadows, until the sun rose again.
It had happened, just like that. A normal life yesterday, hell the next, with no explanation. hordes of pitch black beings stalked the corners and cracks praying on the living.
Only the red zones were spared, mainly because the radiation level there had suddenly soared so high that skin, bones, black ink and the ichor was reduced to cinders in a matter of seconds.
This night, in a refurbished warehouse enclosed by building site spotlights, the techie in the team worked on getting a computer up again. A button, a hard drive firing up.
*"...Encouraging our firms will push the industry to hire more, thus lowering the unemployment rates of our country and increase GDP,"* explained the old woman in a scholarly tone, *"increasing taxes on them will only push outsourcing."*
*"They won't find the the same skill set abroad, and tax exemption will mean more pressure on the poorest in our country"* replied the bearded man.
*"On to the next question from the public."*
It was a debate, like of old, between two politicians and shepherded by a moderator, about salaries, immigration, antisemitism...
Antisemitism died alongside immigration. There's only one distinction that matters: it is human, or something else?
"This is a joke. This can't be happening right now," said Tim.
It did.
"Where does the signal come from?" asked Fatima.
"Satellite, I couldn't tell you where it is being recorded," answered the techie.
"Let's look at it the other way around, where in England could they find the space to have working technology and clean clothes without anyone knowing about it?"
Tim raised a finger, and lowered it when it became clear everyone had the same answer. The group knew most of the other roving bands, they exchanged tips and location of safe zones and shared observations on how the fiends migrated to remain on the least dangerous side of the country.
They would have heard of cameras, cleanliness and haircuts.
Unless it came from the red zones. And considering the posh, elitist accent they were hearing, the crossed out part of the map on the wall appeared to shine all the brighter for it. The upper-class district of London.
"You sure about it?" asked Tim, secured in his anti-radiation suit.
"No," replied Fatima, who was a bit too direct for her husband's taste.
She closed the door of the truck, a military vehicle armored with plates and shielding meant to deflect radiations, if only for a short time. They would cross a bridge, in and out of the red zone and see if anything stuck out in the radiations. A costly endeavor, but this time, no one raised an objection. They had to know.
Pedal to the metal, the truck rushed through the dead city and the Geiger counter went haywire.
"1 minute before turning back," he said.
Burnt vehicles, rust, stink.
"30 seconds. Watch out!"
The black mass came in sight too late, the truck hit the obstacle at full speed, and the fall happened in slow-motion. The shift in gravity, the pull of the seat belt, the loss of control. In a groaning of steel the truck slipped and fell to the side. When the last bit of metal touched the ground, all was silent.
Tim and Fatima hung from the seat belts, Geiger counter blaring in their ears, accepting there was no going back. The truck was damaged, the suits wouldn't hold out for long.
"I love you Tim."
"I love you too."
They struggled out of the belts and sat next to the wreck, huddled together.
"It'll be over soon, I'm glad we're together," Tim held her hand tight.
"Wait, why did the Geiger counter stop beeping?"
He shrugged. And came to take the shrug back when he didn't feel a symptom more than two minutes later.
Daring, Tim took his mask off, and didn't feel worse for it.
| 2022-02-17T10:38:26 | 2022-02-17T08:39:47 | 292 | 163 |
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