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[WP]: A 92-year-old woman's phone number is one digit away from that of a local suicide hotline. She could have it changed, but she doesn't mind.
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"Hello?"
"I can't fucking do this anymore." I cried out for help while gasping for air.
"Isabelle, is that you?"
*Isabelle, how the fuck does this woman know that slut?*
After spinning her words in my head for a moment, I knew it must be a mistake.
"No, I'm Natalie, or I was. I suppose none of that matters anymore."
"Honey what is the matter? Is your asthma acting up?"
*My asthma? I guess anxiety attacks could sound a bit asthmatic. Is this lady wasted?*
"No, my lungs are fine. My mind is the one drowning. I can't swim for much longer. I can feel it pulling me in."
The woman on the other side of the phone paused, then rather sternly said, "You must be one of Isabelle's friends. Now you listen to me, get out of that water right now young lady! It's too dark to be swimming and you're going to catch a cold!"
*A cold? This lady is totally wasted. Is she alright?*
"No, I'm not literally swimming. I'm depressed... fuck, I'm passed that now. Everyone around me is hurting because I'm alive. I'm ruining my marriage, I pushed all my friends away, I haven't even left my house in two months. The people around me would be better off if I just downed my whole script."
A weak cough faintly rang out from the phone. "Honey don't be so morbid, you have plenty left to accomplish. Do you like tea?"
*Tea? I do like tea.. But why does she want to know?*
"I do like tea but I'm out, my husband is staying at his friends, and I can't bother anyone else with this shit. I shouldn't even have called this hotline. What a waste of time."
Now it was crunching, like a cracker wrapper, coming from the speaker. "Hotline? I don't know what you're going on about but my front door won't shut and I need help. Isabelle said I could ask her friends for anything, will you come over? I know it's late. I'll pay the bus fare!"
I laughed. *That hasn't happened in a while. Did I call the wrong number? What the hell, maybe I should go help this lady. It's awfully cold out for the door to not seal.*
"Ma'am, I'm in Phoenix, is that close to you?"
She sighed in what sounded like relief, "oh yes, I'm in Glendale!"
I couldn't believe it.
"Okay I'll stay on the phone with you if that's okay, you can give me directions. I want you to know that you saved my life tonight."
She chuckled, "oh honey, you're the one coming to help me."
For the first time in what seemed like ages, I stepped out the door. Cold wind was slapping my face but it didn't matter. Someone needed my help, and that tea sounded damn good.
EDIT: Sorry about my horrendous formatting the first time, I was on mobile and it looked fine there. :<
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The phone rang again, and Mary sat up in bed putting her glasses on so that she could see the time.
3:32 AM, she smiled sadly to herself. The late night callers were always the least determined ones, usually just young follk too worried to go to work the next morning or too stressed to sleep.
The phone rang again. Three rings, that was her motto - she always allowed them to a chance to hang up before that after the last few talkdowns didn't go so well. Three rings, and it means the person wants to be helped. Any less, and it's usually Mary listening to a final death speech - the likes of which often took their mental toll on her the morning after.
The phone rang one more time. She picked up, and in a careful soothing measured tone said "Hello?".
There was no voice on the other end, just a small sigh and short breaths. "Hello?" she said again, trying to force a response. Maybe this person was already too far gone. Maybe she should hang up and call an ambulance. Just as she was about to, a voice spoke up:
"...hello..."
"Hello there, what's your name?" she asked carefully. Names are useful, it grounds people in a conversation and often sways the direction of authority.
"...nnnnn..... my name is not important right now...."
She nodded to herself, knowing that it must be her who must concede first in order to regain control later. "Well my name is Mary, and I'm here to listen, and help you if you like."
"...haaaaaa......help me how....."
"Well that's up to you" she said. Choice. Give people a choice, no matter how small, and you grant them the illusion of control over their lives. "Whatever you want to talk about, I'm all ears."
"....aaaaaa.... how about we talk about you, Mary......"
This was not uncommon, many people didn't want to talk about their problems up front and sometimes a little give was needed to get some information later in return. "Me? Well I'm just an old girl living her life to its fullest and taking every day as it comes. Can you give me a name to call you?"
"....every day huh?...... Brad...... And what are you doing right now, Mary..."
"Well I'm lying here in bed, talking with you Brad" she said a little indignantly. She wasn't entirely sure this man actually was suicidal. Sometimes people just wanted to talk.
"....lying in bed you say.......... haaaaaaaa..."
His breathing was getting worse. She gripped the phone tightly. "Brad? Brad? Are you okay? Talk to me please."
".....haaaaaa...... so what are you wearing Mary?...."
She sighed. Not this again. She had half a mind to hang up but decided to at least tell the man of his mistake so he would not make it twice. "This is 350*8*7 young man, the phone sex hotline you were looking for was 350*3*7."
She hung up abruptly. Curse this town and it's terrible phone number leasing.
| 2016-02-06T14:05:09 | 2016-02-06T13:39:33 | 400 | 79 |
[WP] Both brothers stood over their sister Candice's grave. Sad and angry, Phineas turned to his bother and said, "Ferb, I know what we are going to do today..."
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The rain fell hard against their hunched backs, as the brothers peered down at the polished wooden surface of Candace's coffin. Phineas turned his horribly misshapen head to face his brother. He could see a pain in the boy's face, a pain that cut deep into his soul. No rain, no matter how hard, would clear the pain away.
"Ferb.." He put a hand on his brother's tense shoulder, pulling him around to meet his own gaze. "I know what we are going to do today."
From his pocket, he withdrew their last moment. Ferb's lifeless eyes began to fill with tears as he saw what his brother offered, the path that they would take. He took one of the pills from Phineas's hand, before the rain could destroy the coating.
"What then, would we do tomorrow, should there be anything beyond the end?" Ferb asked Phineas as his tears joined the rain streaming down his face.
"We'll meet tomorrow together, if that is where our journey takes us." Said Phineas, as he placed the pill beneath his tongue.
===================================================
Edit: Honestly hurt by the downvote.
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The grave glistened in the summer downpour. The golden inlayed message staring back at the brothers, the motif reading 'taken too soon, loving sister, beautiful soul" Ferb closed his eyes and reminisced, the drops of rain coating his ebony hair with a glimmering sheen. He tipped his head skyward and opened his eyes, tears and raindrops collided in a tango of melancholy reflection. He reached out his arm and rested his palm on his brothers shoulder
"Today Phineas, we finish what she started, we will show her the world she was robbed of, we will show her the highest peaks and the deepest oceans, through our souls and hearts she will never die"
The tumbling broth of grey clouds parted for an instant as the golden hue of the Suns rays illuminated the grave. The grass danced in the breeze and the moisture polished the field in a shade of elegant emerald. The brothers shared a passionate embrace swallowing their grief and began the long journey of replacing their loss, with pride.
| 2016-07-05T17:12:17 | 2016-07-05T16:17:30 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Thor is sitting at a diner finishing a meal. A waitress comes by and casually picks up Mjolnir to wipe off the table.
Inspired by a comment made on [this image](http://imgur.com/MMALQdg).
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Thor and Loki sat at the table, looking into their phones. Thor sighed. "I do not like how this thing commands so much attention." Loki smiled "It is not the phone, brother. Were it destroyed entirely, and you had a replacement, the new one would command as much attention. It is what the phone connects you to. Because you carry around an item that is unique, it affects your thinking: you start to imagine that everything is unique. But if you were to smash that phone to pieces, Stark would just get you another one."
Thor looked at Loki. The problem with a trickster is that if everything he says is a lie, then none of his tricks work anymore. A trickster only succeeds if he often tells the truth, or tells his lies mixed in with the truth. But on this occasion, he saw no falsehood in what Loki had said about the phone.
Their waitress returned with their meals. Thor had ordered a cheeseburger, and Loki was having chicken-fried steak. They ate in silence, and when she returned she collected the empty plates and asked if they wanted any dessert. While they looked over the menu, she wiped down the table, lifting Mjolnir casually and wiping under it, before walking away. Thor moved to stop her, but Loki grabbed his hand "No! You always act first and think second! I know a way humans get information from each other, which will not attract attention."
Thor was suspicious; this would be a time for a lie mixed with truth. Loki, seeing it in his eyes, said "I will only ask one question, and you will see." Thor glared at him, and said "If this is a trick..." Loki smiled. "Yes, yes, I know. But you will see."
When the waitress returned, Loki smiled at her and asked "Do I know you? Somehow you seem familiar." Thor was satisfied that this seemed harmless, and turned to look at her. She seemed a bit uncomfortable, and opened her mouth to speak, but didn't say anything.
At this point, a man at a table across the aisle said "Go on, Janice, tell him!" Janice said "Oh, don't be making a big deal..." as the man continued "She was in the paper and on TV about three years ago! A small plane from the skydiving school had let off all its parachuters, and then the pilot had a heart attack and the plane crashed into the bridge out west of town. Four cars ended up in the river along with the plane, just as Janice here was driving up herself. If she'd left home 10 seconds earlier she'd have been hit too! But while people were gaping, she got out of her car and jumped into the river. There was burning airplane fuel floating on the water and everything. She got everybody out of the cars, including two kids in car seats who she got to shore, and she was going back for the pilot when the fire department arrived. Had burns on both her arms. She's a real hero, and her not even 100 pounds!"
Loki and Thor looked at each other as others started to add details. Thor whispered to Loki, "Many have saved lives, even at risk of their own, and not been deemed worthy. There must be more than just this. Stark has saved many lives, but he could not budge Mjolnir, even with his suit."
Janice was trying to quiet everyone down, saying "Please, don't make such a big deal. All I did was what anyone would do. I'm not a hero, I'm just a person, no different than anyone else." As the crowd settled themselves, she turned back to her customers, and said, "I'm sorry about that. I didn't want to be in the paper or on TV, they came to the hospital while I was knocked out from the drugs, and I mumbled some things at them without even knowing what I was doing. I'm not a hero, I never wanted any recognition, I just did what needed to be done, the same that anyone would do. Now, would you like some dessert?" She smiled and nodded, prompting them with the correct answer. "The carrot cake is really good today."
Thor smiled and nodded. "We would both be honored to have some of your carrot cake." Janice sighed and shook her head as she headed back to the kitchen.
Loki looked at Thor smiling. "Well? What are you smiling for? Some nobody picks up your precious hammer and you sit there smiling."
Thor answered, "Because now I see it. She saved others, which many have done, but she wanted, and still wants, nothing for herself in return. She would do it again tomorrow, despite the harm she suffered. And she believes that others are as unselfish as she is. Many *say* such things, but then find ways to profit from their deeds, or wish to profit in their hearts, or only wish to appear humble because it is to their advantage. If Mjolnir deemed her worthy, it is because she truly means what she says, where so many do not."
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Even dressed down, he was impressively tall and built like a Kansas barn. At any other place, he would have been as conspicuous as a walking neon lit sign, but in the smoke-filled and hazy diner on a dark Wednesday evening, he was no more an outlier as the skeletal man hunched at the counter, chain smoking his third cigarette.
Thor slid his torso into a booth at the back corner, donning a grey t-shirt and faded black jeans. He casually set Mjolnir on the retro diner table and embedded himself in the menu.
"Coffee, sugar?"
"Yes. And cream. Goats."
"Sorry darling? Goats?" the waitress asked.
Thor peeled his eyes off the menu to glance at the perplexed waitress. She was waiting for him to elaborate. "I... sorry... cows," he paused, "cows cream," he grinned as he thought of how jealous Loki would be at his clever save.
She gave him a grin as she seamlessly overturned a mug and poured a steaming brown drink into it. "I'll give you a minute with the menu," then wandered off with the extra mug and place setting the booth had been prepared with.
Corned beef hash. Tennessee pork brisket. All-day double sausage and bacon breakfast - ironically named the Defibrillator. Corned beef hash - Thor's head filled with images of cows grazing in a field but with torsos of 7-foot long husked cobs. Yes. That one. He quietly surveyed the diner as he waited for the waitress's return. At the jukebox was a couple dressed in plaid shirts and padded vests to keep warm. Closer to the door was a grey-haired man in a matching light grey suit, fumbling around for his wallet.
He ordered his meal when she brought him some plastic cups of cream and yellowed paper sugar packets. He popped the first four creamers before he realized the lids could be peeled. As he sat and waited for his food, his right hand reflexively twirled the auoumbla leather straps that bound Mjolnir's handle.
She brought the food out to his table and set down a large heaping plate. "So, this is the corn beef?" he asked her, looking at the mushy pink pile.
"It's not the prettiest, but it tastes pretty good. Go ahead, try it," she coyed.
He brought the fork to his mouth - salty, savory, and every bit satisfying. He eyed the next morsel, trying to repicture what a corn beef creature looks like.
"Pretty good, right? Just let me know if you need anything," as she left her appeased customer to enjoy his meal.
People came and went to the sound of a hanging bell chiming every time the door opened. A family of four barely batted an eye at the God sitting at table 9, although the youngest kept making leering faces at Thor. Not that it mattered, he was lost in his own world as he made short work of the corned beef hash and home fries.
"Wow, you were hungry. I know this may be rude, but could I get you to settle your bill? I'm off to Chi-Chi's with my boyfriend," she confidently reached to place a folded paper bill on the table and jarred his half-drunk coffee, splashing its contents on the table top. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she stretched for Mjolnir.
Thor reached to lift it for her and strove to say, "Tis quite alright," but only managed to stutter, "Tis uhh, uhh, uhhh, uhhhh," as she beat him to it and effortlessly lifted the immortal instrument from the table top. He stared in amazement as she wiped down the few splashes with the worn down, formerly white towel she had kept tucked in her apron string.
"I can get so clumsy when I'm in a hurry. Sorry sugar," she repeated, not knowing how much she stunned him.
"Who... who are you?" He managed to squeak, a lively crumb of beef hanging off his lower lip and dancing on his beard.
"Oh, I'm just a nobody, but I'm going to get out of here one of these days. Two more weeks and I'll be a licensed travel agent." She smiled as she gently set Mjolnir down. "Sorry about that. You know what? Don't worry about settling with me, I'll have Carl take over, you can take as much time as you need," as she pointed with her head at the fry cook behind the short order window.
Just then, the bell above the door rang again to introduce another guest. If Thor was built like a barn, this man was built like a silo. He was tall with a calm demeanor, but carried himself with the deposition of a brawler - a brawler walking right towards Thor. The waitress squealed in mock horror, "Puppy!" as she threw herself into his arms. "Okay Carl, I'm going now. I need you to settle with Nine! I got a date tonight!"
**Edited for grammar and such.
***Hope the references are just subtle enough - but not too much, puppy!
| 2015-07-10T22:34:24 | 2015-07-10T20:35:44 | 36 | 15 |
[WP] Your idea to steal change from the fountain has backfired... you wake up the next day with a compulsion to fulfill the wishes that people made using the coins you have stolen. You are the Wishtaker.
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My boyfriend Jack wasn't happy about the sudden change of plans. We were all packed for a picnic and about to leave my apartment when I'd floated an alternative idea.
"But we had plans," said Jack. "I thought we were going to the park today."
"We will, we will," I said. I flipped the JFK half-dollar over in my hand. For some reason I'd felt an insatiable urge to grab it from the fountain at the mall yesterday, and I hadn't been able to let it go ever since. "But there's something I need to do first."
Jack sighed. "Which is what?"
I stared at the coin. "We need to find Brian Primrose who lives at 378 Fairwood Lane and buy him a puppy."
"I'm sorry, what the hell are you talking about?" asked Jack.
I continued staring at the coin, not bothering to look at Jack as I spoke. "I...don't...know," I said. "I just know I need to do this. Brian really wants–no, *needs*–a puppy."
"*Who is Brian?*"
I scratched my head. "Um. I...don't know that either."
Jack threw up his hands. "I can't believe this is happening. You want us to buy a puppy and then deliver it to some random kid you don't even know. Who, as far as I can tell, *may or may not even exist*."
"Yyyyyes. That's correct," I said. I looked up at Jack. "Actually, we don't need to buy a puppy. My sister's dog just gave birth and she's giving away the puppies."
Jack took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "*Fine*."
---
Two hours later, I rang the doorbell at 378 Fairwood Lane while Jack held the squirming puppy.
An eight-year-old kid with thick, round glasses answered the door. As soon as he saw Bosco, his eyes lit up. "A puppy! Um, sorry, I'm Brian. Primrose. I mean, this is the Primrose residence. Are you here to see my parents?"
I smiled. "No, we're here to see you!"
"*No?*" asked Jack. "We're not even going to ask his parents before just handing over, like, twenty years of responsibility?"
I ignored Jack. "Brian, would you like a puppy?"
Brian grinned back at me. "*Would I*? Of course!"
I took the puppy out of Jack's arms and handed it to Brian. Brian's and Jack's mouths were both hanging open, but for very different reasons.
"Take good care of Bosco," I said. Brian didn't hear me, already engrossed with his new best friend.
As we walked back to the car, Jack was in a daze. "We just handed over a dog to some kid we've never even met."
"Relax, hon. He'll be fine," I said.
"You don't know that! That was hugely irresponsible. That was–actually, I'm just going to forget this ever happened," said Jack. We filed into the car. Jack turned the ignition. "Are we going to the park, finally?"
"Well," I said. I flipped the half-dollar over in my hand again. "There's just *one more thing* I need to take care of..."
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The ringing, it was the ringing that woke me up that faithful morning. As I came out of my midnight trance, it got stronger and stronger. My head whipped around the room searching for something, anything that could be causing it. I finally found my answer when my eyes wiped over the faded plastic bag sitting on my desk.
When I went to that fountain the night before, I did not have any ill intent. I was short this month and needed every little bit I could get my hands on to make it through. It was not like I was stealing someone’s dreams or wishes; I just figured I could use the money more than the city.
As I stepped out of bed, my desire to approach the bag became overwhelming. My thoughts were completely blank besides putting one foot in front of the other as I approached. As I got closer the ringing transformed. It softened, twisted, and became one of the most beautiful melodies I have ever heard. My hands reached out as I embraced this wonderful feeling. Just as my fingertips felt the smooth bumpy surface of a quarter and grasped it, silence engulfed the room.
It was like they were standing right beside me, whispering into my ear their wish. This one was a little girl, no more than 10 years old. She was so excited as she delightfully whispered into my ear. All she wanted was a friend, someone to talk to. Just as her gleeful voice left my year, everything returned to normal. I could hear the cars outside, my neighbors bickering, even a bird was chirping. The only two things that were different was my boundless motivation to help this girl, and how I seemed to instantaneously learn where she lived.
These coins became an obsession of mine, they were like a round metallic pills that filled me with happiness and purpose. My job, my possessions, and my achievements were centered on giving each and every single one of these coins their wish. It was grueling work at times. I once spent three years buying lottery tickets. Besides essentials, I spent every cent of my income collecting, scratching, and guessing. I had to give this middle aged man what he had always wanted, a lottery ticket worth more than $100,000.
The years crawled as I fulfilled every wish in that bag. I am not proud of some of the things I had to do. I stole, lied, manipulated, and cheated so I could give these coins what they wanted. I had friends over the years, but they always left or gave up on me. I guess they thought I was just not worth the hassle.
35 years. That is how long it took me to reach the last coin in the bag. Just looking at the coin made my heart skip a beat. It was not your average coin. It was a rarity, a collector’s item. A 1928 S Peace Dollar. There are only two reasons why someone would throw something so valuable into a fountain. As I picked it up, my despair grew by the second. When the voice left my ear, all I could do was break down and cry. Withering on the floor, I heard a familiar noise start to bloom. The ringing started as just a pindrop, but it grew louder and louder as I tried to refuse this final request.
Ring,
Ring,
Ring.
| 2015-06-08T22:42:41 | 2015-06-08T22:34:20 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
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No one ever realized I didn't have a power.
Number two is a telepath. I met him in a bar once, but I could feel his touch on my mind all the way down the street. It was light, I would never have felt it if he'd only been looking, but when you're used to being a pawn you learn to see when you're being played with. He wanted me in that bar, and I complied. If he was going to kill me, I couldn't have stopped him at that point anyway. I asked him in there, "Why don't you kill me? No one would stop you." He laughed, and downed the remainder of his cup. "No one wants to be first, kiddo. No one with half a shot at getting there, anyway." His knowing smile told me everything it needed to. I was a tool. A figurehead. I asked him what he wanted from me and he gave me a list of people who needed to be out of the city by next Sunday. He walked out, and I did as I was told.
When they think you're more powerful than the strongest soldiers the city state has to offer, they don't question your authority. You say something happens and it does.
Number six is an empath, though I don't think she got her number on strength of power. It's the connections that did it. She told me once she was glad that number one was a good man, or the city'd be even worse off than it already is. I'm sure I could be a bad one if I had the inclination, it's only the top hundred or so I really have to keep happy. I've just never wanted to. I asked her if that was why she'd fallen in love with me and she gave me the coldest, most dangerous laugh I've ever heard.
"You're funny," she said.
We both know damn well it's me who loves her, and we both know equally well that I have no chance. Which doesn't stop her from using me for all I'm worth.
I'm not like the rest of the ten. I didn't kill to be here. Fate crowned me king at birth, and I've yet to figure out what in God's name it was thinking.
Number four is a power thief. He's the one who illuminated the mystery of my continued kinghood for me, down beneath the earth in a room full of tiny glass bottles and too much red to be comforting. He downed one of the bottles and settled against a shelf as his body changed. Creepy, that one.
"I'm not going to cut you open and take your blood," he said with about as much care as he'd give the weather. "Do you know why?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because then I'd have to run the city. I'd have to appease Lamier and Asmar and the whole nest full of snakes. It would be a chronic waste of time, and I'd hardly be able to balance it with my own projects. No no, you can keep your seat and your secrets. We serpents wouldn't touch your job with a ten foot pole."
I am a pawn masquerading as king, a powerless man ruling the powerful, a good man with no convictions. But I am, if nothing else, an actor. If no one sees the contradictions... Well, who am I to tell that they are there?
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Oh yes. I definitely remember, every single detail. He was wearing a red and silver striped tie, for example. How could I ever forget that day? I walked into his office as number 21,458. When I left, I had his number 1.
Quite a frenzy it set off, you know? At first, people didn't even know it was me. I remember the first reporter I ever talked to, after she'd discovered that I was on his calendar for 2 PM, right about when he'd died. First question she asked me? "Who else was in the room with you?" Thanks for the vote of confidence, lady.
Well, eventually they managed to wrap their puny minds around it. I was the new #1 in town, and I had the token to prove it. News organizations exploded: some nobody is now the most powerful person in town? No one had even witnessed what my power was! There was endless speculation and chatter about what I could do. I remember this one professor from the university, speculating that I could make someone explode just by thinking about them. All sorts of self-proclaimed experts came forward to discuss it. And don't you know it, all of them were pounding on my door for that exclusive interview.
Well, it became pretty clear that I wasn't talking. So then the challenges started coming. Who was first? I think it was that bloke who could control flames. Nice guy, bit of a hothead...
No? Nothing. Fine.
Well, I met up with him and accepted the challenge, but on the condition that we fight in an empty room, no cameras or witnesses. He agreed, and we found an empty gym on the outskirts of town. Well, of course you know what happened to him, and to that entire neighborhood. I made the same offer to any other challenger: I was taking callers, but only if we fought alone. Same offer still stands, you know, but it's been years since anyone has taken me up on it.
Once it became pretty clear that no one was going to take the number from me, or see me in a fight, then they tried other methods. You know how many women I met who tried to seduce the information out of me? Hell, that's why I'm *still* a bachelor: I just can't trust any of them. Then came the offers: money, jobs, protection, you name it. Every prominent member of the city wanted me as their bodyguard, but on the condition that I told them what I could do. I told 'em to shove it. Then, they went after my friends and my parents, badgering them for information. So I became a recluse. Bought this cabin up here, just me and Buddy. My only friend; dogs don't care what my power is. And that's been the story ever since. I'm no longer involved in the tournament scene, and I guess the city is just going to have be content with only having a number 2.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Buddy and I have some fish to catch, so I'm afraid this interview is over.
All right, one last question...
Yes, I knew this would be coming. Did you really think it would be that easy to get it out of me? Nice try.
| 2014-12-18T12:44:55 | 2014-12-18T11:07:40 | 670 | 300 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.
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I’d been in line for hours. The regime had brutally destroyed the backbone of the resistance last week, and had set up these kangaroo courts to “process” the remaining prisoners.
It was all crap, anyway. They’d stolen the present and the future, and now they were all set to wipe out every remaining threat to their eternal reign. All that was left was to hoodwink them by their own systems, somehow.
Ahead, the box beeped. “Citizen Jenkins, submit your final request.” The man ahead of me grinned, triumphantly, and requested death by old age. The box beeped again, and the audience in the courtroom laughed as his flesh shriveled and he toppled over.
Well, there goes that plan. At least it was one of the less painful selections I’d seen.
We’d had lovely full-color holos to watch everyone else ahead of us, and there’d been so many deaths. The box could, apparently, function to provide any manner of death. If a prisoner tried to run, or fight, or do anything but specify, the box would default to some horrible torture that lasted less than thirty seconds and always ended the same way.
As the guards prodded me forward, a thunderbolt hit me. The box could do anything in the service of death.
Anything.
The box beeped at me. “Citizen Porthos, submit your final request.” My lips drew back over my teeth. I knew it was a wild, feral expression, that my captors were no doubt interpreting as panic, but my words were clear and controlled.
“Eight gigaton thermonuclear fireball.”
I had a fraction of a second to appreciate the absolute pandemonium that erupted in the courtroom.
Then everything ended.
|
The nameless waif walked forward onto the sand of the court floor, the shackles that bound her hand and foot dragging on the bloodied floor.
She tilted her head to look up at the arbiters seated so high above her, her ragged black hair falling back from her face to reveal the gaunt lines of her face - but no fear. Not even resignation. There was no emotion there at all.
“How do you want to die?” Asked the First Arbiter. They no longer bothered stating the names and crimes of their prisoners - they had all been rounded up in one of the rebel villages and put to death for the crime of being there.
“Unshackled,” she rasped, holding her wrists up to her captors. “I don’t care about the method of my death, but let me die unshackled.”
“So be it,” boomed the arbiters in unison. The chains fell away as the execution walked onto the sand.
The girl smiled widely and spread her arms, as if welcoming the sun. She seemed so much larger than the tiny hunched over waif she had appeared previously.
It was no illusion.
The teeth behind her smile grew sharper and more pointed. Her nails grew longer and hardened into talons.
The executioner stopped in his tracks and gawped in shock as the arbiters who had finally noticed her transformation attempted to end her - but it was no use. The magic had no effect anymore.
“My thanks,” she said sibilantly as giant wings sprouted from her back, “for freeing me.”
And then blood fell on the sand once more.
| 2021-06-24T10:14:19 | 2021-06-24T05:07:39 | 5,663 | 152 |
[WP] You just sent in your DNA to one of those ancestry sites. After eight weeks, you can’t figure out why your results have not shown up. Then, two men with dark suits show up at your front door. They have some news regarding your results.
|
At first I thought they were nightmares. I've had them since I was a child but now more than ever, they became frequent with episodes where I was left in pure terror. It didn't take a doctor to tell me that I was having cases of sleep paralysis, the utter terror of being unable to move as something tried to devour my soul left me exhausted and more agitated than rested each night.
I visited Dr. James about them and he, at first, diagnosed them as sleep paralysis. As he wrote the medications I would take, I tried to strike a conversation him.
"I wouldn't have normally bothered you with this but my final thesis needs to be completed and this situation has been making it hard to work."
He grunted an approval and continued typing at his computer. Dr. James was a hard man to talk to, he spoke very little and his eyes cared even less for his patients albeit he still worked diligently to make sure they were safe. I envied such confidence.
"My mom also mentioned having these nightmares." I prompted him to try and strike a conversation, "She said Grandma also had them. We are a family of bad sleeping habits." I lightly laughed.
The doctor stopped and finally looked at me. His stance had changed, the way he twirled his pen and lightly tapped his feet told me he was either impatient about something or anxious. For a moment I wondered, have I said something wrong?
As quickly as those habits showed, he hid them and collected his composure. "There is emerging evidence to suggest that sleep paralysis might be genetic, though the evidence is weak. Would you be interested in taking a genetic test? Your sequence could add to the understanding we seek about this sleep disorder if your sleep paralysis is truly genetic."
I should have picked up on those signs back then. I dismissed them instead and agreed to the test, I had nothing to lose after all and if my DNA could help scientists help those with the same condition as me, I would have done good right?
According to the terms and conditions, I should have received the results in 2 weeks however, with my thesis' deadline approaching fast, I forgot about them completely. They didn't arrive at all.
Three months later, I got a knock on my apartment door. I ordered some Pizza that night so I thought it might be the pizza guy; money in hand, I swung the door open to find 2 men in black at my door.
They immediately identified themselves as being part of the CIA by flashing their badges on my face. My heart sank to my feet and my ma's words immediately flashed in my head, all the frantic speeches about how I shouldn't trust the government and if I were to be in front of an officer I should escape. My knees lost their power as I shook.
"How may I be of help to the government?" I asked trying to sound unfazed.
My mom was a conspiracy theorist, I know that, yet her words in this moment rang like bells in my head.
"I'm Lyon and this is Cameron. We are here to ask you some questions and leave if you wouldn't mind." One of the men spoke. I didn't necessarily have a choice...
Thanks to the New York's winter, both men were completely indistinguishable. The large black coats they wore were identical as well as their scarfs and hats. I tried to get any markers of distinction on them and what their intend might be but I realized I kept them standing at the door for too long.
"Excuse me, come in of course." I stepped aside.
Thankfully my apartment was clean and I was preparing some tea for myself to indulge with the Pizza. I presented it to them but neither moved to take it. One of them got a notepad and started noting my apartment. Lyon, I assumed, began the interrogation.
"Mr. Coltz, we apologize for the late night intrusion. According to your primary care doctor, your family has a history of sleep paralysis. Is that correct?"
My family's history isn't a secret however hearing them phrase it that way set off thousands of alarms in my head that scream 'GET OUT NOW'.
"Yes." I replied.
"Your DNA analysis results has been delivered to us." His partner, Cameron, threw a bundle of paper on the table. "We would like to know, where are you from exactly?"
The room went cold. I clenched my fists on thighs and clamped my lips shut.
"Every person ever registered in Agard has a nationality but according to our records, there are no birth certificates or records issued by the name of Alaverez Coltz. No name changes, no IDs, nothing. You are, under these circumstances, a criminal yet on the local bureaucratic level, you are very well known as a native."
The door bell rang in cue and I sprung up. "Pizza." I clarified, "I was expected that before you two arrived."
Their eyes fixated on me as I reached for the door. I pushed myself outside as I collected my breath.
"Are you... okay sir?" The Pizza guys asked.
"Can you drive me somewhere?" I whispered to him.
The guy was confused as he tried to look behind me. I heard the men get up from their seats and I smacked the Pizza on the ground.
"RUN!" I ordered him and he followed.
I don't know why I'm running but every inch of me is screaming. If I get caught be those guys, I'm surely dead.
|
“Kelly Hsu?” the older one asks.
“Yes?” My heartbeat barges into my ears; I don’t like strangers knowing my name, especially not ones in dark suits looming in my doorframe.
“Tim Dietermann: Frampton, Dietermann & White.” He extends a little white card to me that repeats what he just said, plus “Esq.” and some phone numbers.
“My associate, Govind Ashtikar.” Tim gestures, and Govind opens an attaché case and hands Tim a pale blue envelope. Tim hands the envelope to me.
*Strange.* The outside of the envelope gives me no indication of its contents; it feels soft and sturdy, like money.
Before I can open it, Govind removes a clipboard from his case, and hands it to Tim. Tim hands it to me.
“Please sign to acknowledge receipt.” I try to read the paper clipped to the board, but the small print and large words defy skimming.
“It just says that we gave you the envelope,” Govind says, softer in voice than Tim. He smiles.
Tim hasn’t so much as blinked, but irritation radiates off him.
“Please sign to acknowledge receipt,” he repeats. Govind gives me an encouraging smile, and I *do* see “acknowledge receipt” on the paper. *Okay, I guess...*
I sign on the X.
Tim plucks the clipboard and pen from me and hands them to Govind, who returns them to his case.
“Ms. Hsu, Dambala Ventures, LLC, the parent company of Dambala Laboratories Incorporated, has retained my firm to defend its interests in U.S. Patent 14,524,404, which I will call the ‘404 patent.’”
I’ve never heard of Dambala *anything*, and I don’t know patents from patent leather. I say so, far less cleverly: “What?”
“My client recently learned that a saliva sample putatively taken from your body contains DNA that infringes on the 404 patent.”
My DNA what now?
“Did you recently submit a saliva sample for DNA analysis?”
“Uh, yeah. But— to find out more about my mom’s side. Like, are we Vikings or whatever.”
“Your recreational interest in your genetics bears no relevance on my client’s claim.”
I hardly parse Tim’s words before he launches into a well-rehearsed speech.
“The envelope in your hands contains a pre-suit subpoena, authorized under Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 27 and signed by Judge Christopher Barkley-Hughes of the Southern District of Vermont. This subpoena compels you to immediately produce 2.5 milliliters of your blood to confirm patent infringement.”
I draw my hands to my chest instinctively, still clutching the envelope.
“Failure to comply with this lawfully ordered subpoena may result in confinement in contempt of court.”
I look to Govinder for help. He smiles sadly.
“Please present your preferred arm to my associate for phlebotomy.”
I find my voice, finally, squeaky with panic: “Wait! Wait, I haven’t even *read* the... the subpoena yet.”
“Then read it now.”
My hands shake as I fumble with the envelope flap. I tear too hard and the contents jostle free, fluttering to my floor in disarray.
Neither man moves to help me.
Tears spring to my eyes.
“Can’t I... can I get my own lawyer?”
“Certainly. Can your attorney join us within the next—“ Tim checks his watch. “—fifty-six minutes?”
“I— I don’t know any attorneys.”
“Subsection 113.11bb of the Revised Patent Act authorizes the imposition of opposing party fees and expenses incurred as a result of delayed compliance with a lawful subpoena.”
I can’t even begin to understand that.
“It means you’ll have to pay us to come back,” Govinder translates.
Tim bristles harder, somehow.
Chastised, Govinder adds “...and you should know he charges $900 an hour.”
If he means to give me some hope, he clearly hasn’t looked around my crummy apartment. I can’t afford that.
...I probably can’t even afford my own lawyer.
Shit.
“Isn’t there anything else I can do?” I beg Govinder.
Govinder looks at Tim. “Well...”
Tim glares. Aha!
“Please, please...” I lock eyes with Govinder. He licks his lips.
“Dambala authorized us to sell a limited number of licenses to the 404 patent. $55 per month, direct deposit only.”
My budget flashes before my eyes.
“I... yes. I want that.”
Govinder withdraws more paper from his case, this time an easy-to-read form, as Tim scoffs and leans against my doorframe. I write a check for the first installment and authorize indefinite automatic transfers.
The lawyers leave.
All the tension keeping my body upright goes too, and I slide down the door in relief.
Then I hear Tim say, in a much lighter tone: “Okay, can you be the bad guy next time?”
“She thought she was descended from *Vikings*,” someone snorts. Surely not Govinder?
Never opening my fucking door again.
| 2020-07-19T13:33:46 | 2020-07-19T10:51:09 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You were an embryo frozen for over 200 years, until you were finally birthed. At this point, everyone else on Earth has been genetically modified to perfection. You are the last human with flaws.
|
*"Throw back" they said, "Homo Sapien" they said. The mocking never stopped. Even as a student the teachers would single me out. It was so fucked up that even as a kid I knew that this was just cruel. And then I discovered it...influenza. The highly mutating disease had been wiped out after a missing CDC agent went on a world wide flight spreading a similar pandemic.*
*I found a job as a janitor after school and began my plot for revenge. The trick was matching the dates on the frozen petri dishes. Watching enemies fall one by one was like a fine wine as I kept my fluids up and taking pills for the joint pain...even the shakes was worth it. All those "superior" funerals just made me laugh through the pain. I was the white man in a sea of indigenous people with no immunity. Through my hate I raged and conquered until there was no one left...so if you find this journal just know I die with a smile on my face.*
-excerpt found by an Australian exploratory commission in 2334 CE.
|
As a young girl your life is in constant danger because you are treated as a celebrity Messiah. Men and women flock after you in outward dissgust but in truth there is something shockingly visually interesting about you. that they cannot help but adore you. Soon tabloids carry pictures of you, fake stories, strange interviews from genetic researchers. Baby's are engineered in an attempt to capture whatever it is that makes you look the way you do, but they all have some visual quality that makes the look cheap. It is as if someone has stolen your blueprint, but couldn't possibly understand how to actually build you. This launches the world into a mass hysteria. Groups of people arm themselves and go hunting for you. Looking for a chance to capture you and take what you have. The US government attempts to provide you with protection at first, but it slowly becomes apparent that some of these people are pulling strings to get you for there own.
| 2018-03-16T09:51:38 | 2018-03-16T09:36:47 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] As it turns out, our ability to "just tell when someone is looking at us" is actually a latent telepathic abillity that nearly all humans have. The fact that we unknowingly train it with our games as younglings and theres no known defense against it makes most aliens very cautious around us.
|
Report ZX1TERRA-635.
As previously reported, my cover remains intact. I believe I've discovered the parameters to the game humans use to awaken latent telepathic powers in their offspring. The Senators were correct. It is not the hospitals, but the nurseries. I often perform my duties, roving about the nursery to confirm the children are not harming themselves or others, and find my wards hiding in the most peculiar or dangerous places. One will stand against a wall, concentrating on feeling out it's peers and counting as a focusing method. The rest will scurry away and act strangely. Attempting to move behind a heavy bookcase. Crawling inside a toy chest, its contents scattered across the floor.
I found one instance of a child climbing atop the fortifications in the outdoor play area to hide from his rivals. He continually looked over his shoulder, as though he could feel my eyes on his back. He fell and shattered his humerus when another guardian called his name loudly. I was berated for not acting sooner, but stated I was worried breaking his concentration would result in his falling and sustaining a more serious injury. I received no demerit or punishment.
These younglings go to extreme measures and apparently endure extreme pain to play this "hide-and-seek". Perhaps it would be wise to integrate this game into our education systems at the nurseries.
|
-I'm sorry, we can't invade Sol-3 because the inhabitants can do WHAT?! - shouted the general
-T-They have a telephatic ability to tell when another creature is observing them.- the researcher answeres sheepishly -Our cloaking devices are useless at line of sight distance.
-Then how did we even find out about it?
-One of our researchers went to the surface to observe less developed creatures in areas of dense foliage, but one of the inhabitants interrupted him. The researcher then proceeded to observe the inhabitabt, but it kept turning around to look at the researcher, who was fortunately cloaked. We are not sure if it saw anything, but it's best not to push our luck.
-How did they achieve such a thing without any knowledge about the Aether?
-It must be an inheritant ability. They also train their younglings using two dimensional simulations, which are much more advanced than even the ones on Kuqia Academy of Aether!
-How is this possible? This is just a primitive stage 2 civilisation! Even the Nirrea couldn't utilize any Aether abilities until the Great War!
-I don't know yet, sir. I only reccomend to leave them alone until they grow enough, and then offer an alliance.
| 2022-03-13T17:33:49 | 2022-03-13T15:33:31 | 257 | 129 |
[WP] "never hire humans" is a standard "no duh" statement across the universe. But by galactic standards, humans are cheap. So an alien overlord has just hired 500 humans to work on his personal resort colony. And things start going horribly wrong.
EDIT: easily my most upvoted post ever. Thank you all!
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"You did what!?" The booming voice echoing through the halls. "Well you said we had to put a void drive into the..um...exal pool? But we figured that two of those would increase the efficiency of the pool!"
The tall, grey creature stood up from his throne, folded his four arms behind his back and snarled. His face resembled an anteater, but only if it had been described to a blind artist by a near sighted child.
While the overlord was as bulky as maybe three or four Vin Diesels and looked like he could bench press an elephant or three, the human in front of him looked quite at ease and was absolutely beaming with pride.
"Please tell me how one could increased the efficiency of a pool?"
"Well not really the pool part, but exal part. Since the pool was build it didn't have water. Well this whole planet doesn't. We figured it must come from the void drive! So we added two instead of one. You know to make if more exalty!"
"That's not a thing." The Overlord sighed.
"It is now!" The human replied.
Hiring these weaklings was a bad idea to begin with. While the universe was unstable and war was common, Earth was always spared. Beware of the humans. Do not hire them, do not antagonize them. Do not give them any of our technology.
At first Zartok the Conqueror didn't understand at all how these creatures were dangerous. He could crush them easily and none of their weapons harmed him. But they were intelligent and for that he hired them to build.
Things went fine at first. Physical labour went well, all the basics and foundations were build in just weeks with much enthusiasm from the humans.
It went wrong when the humans got new technology, well new to them. They started experimenting. Testing and ocassionally dying. Zortak would most likely describe them as lemmings, if he knew what those were, but he didn't.
A sudden explosion shook the chamber. One of many in the last few months. Zartok looked the screen on the wall, which showed the number 347 about 7 seconds ago. Instead the number 307 had replaced it.
"Void drives won't work together. I told you this. Once turned on they naturally reject each other. They will fly away and crash into something."
Zortak sighed once again.
"Yeah you said that, but we have found a way to resolve that issue."
"WITH WHAT!? CELLULAR WELDING? GLUE, WHAT EVER THE HELL THAT IS, BUT THAT SURE AS FLORAK'S SKULL MANDIBLES DIDN'T WORK LAST TIME. SO TELL ME WHAT!!?"
The human searched through his pockets and proudly held up a small silver band.
"Duct tape!"
|
Stars whooshed past through the window behind the desk, as a twelve-tentacled arm reached for the tablet report.
The tentacles belonged to a being in a suit with seven mouths, each mouth indicating a different state of emotion.
"These people do not work!" screamed Grogg the Inquisitor from his anger-mouth. "They will call in 'sick', as if their health is more important than *their duties*!"
"Sir..." continued Grimm the Workmaster.
"*Do not cut me off, Grimm*, or I will take this to senior management! And why is your joy-mouth open? This is *not* a happy time!"
Grimm the workmaster had enjoyed the sadistic glee of activating the humans' shock-collars for a while, their screams giving him enough joy to go home to his harem and produce many children. But times were tougher now, especially with Grogg the Inquisitor breathing down his neck all the time, and the threat of pay cuts for poor performance - possibly even an eventual firing - looming over his head. Based on Grogg's attitude, Grimm wondered if Grogg wouldn't simply bypass proper channels and throw Grimm out the airlock. His body secreted from its pores at the thought.
Grimm was losing his cool. So what if he died, or had to collect a meager allotment of credits from the Republic's almskeepers while between jobs?
"Sir...." continued Grimm. "The issue is that we hired humans. They're notoriously frail."
"That's because they're cheaper!" screamed Grogg. "And I'd prefer you not bring your politics into this! I always suspected you were a Collectivist Party goon."
The secretion continued. Grimm had endangered his job not so long ago from entering a political discussion with a colleague about the crystal harvesters' strike on Antares 9. He did sometimes wonder if the Collectivists had a point in advocating for the abolition of human labor.
"But, sir," said Grimm to Grogg. "The humans aren't so easily replaceable anymore. The only humans we can get are already sold to us by slavers after having been mostly beaten or killed on the Ships. Voluntary human labor is almost nonexistent anymore."
"Then I'll have to put in a request to the Republic's labor division to genetically enhance the humans," said Grogg. "And if that request is denied....."
Grogg made a slicing motion across the sack of his neck with his tentacles.
Grimm sighed. He had half a day ahead of him, getting back to shocking and terrorizing the humans - but at this point, he was going to need to look for a new job.
| 2019-01-26T12:06:25 | 2019-01-26T11:30:13 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] Your first wish to the genie was that you never existed. Having granted it, the genie sits dumbfounded, wondering why he's out here and why he's short 1 wish. All wishes must be accounted for, and a 'loss' of one is a huge emergency, for it could end up in the wrong hands.
|
Lewis the genie stared dumbfoundedly into the distance. He had the faintest memory of snapping his fingers, which usually meant granting a wish, but he had no memory of what that wish was. He browsed through his pockets. Perhaps he was just mistaken, he thought to himself, maybe he just drank too many martinis in one day. But no, he found two wishes addressed to a certain Mr. Peter Collins, but no third wish. He found himself starting to panic. Every wish was supposed to be recorded and accounted for. This could get him in serious trouble.
Within just a few seconds, he found himself dashing into the Office of Record Keeping. His uncle, a tall bald genie with a thick beard, stared at the exhausted youth from behind his desk. “Lewis? What in blazes are you doing here?”
Lewis looked up, panting hard. “I need your help, Uncle Tom. I can’t remember one of my wishes.”
Tom’s face turned pale. He rose to his feet and grabbed Lewis by the front of his jacket. “Are you telling me that you’ve lost a wish, young man?!”
“No, no!” Lewis said frantically. “I know I granted it. I just can’t remember what it was. It belonged to somebody named Peter Collins!”
Tom briskly walked over to a file cabinet labelled C and began quickly paging through the files. “Calton, Callow, Colinger...ah, here it is, Collins!” He opened the file and read aloud. “I wish to have never been born.”
A wave of relief surged through Lewis. “Well, then, there’s nothing to worry about now that we know what it was, right?”
Tom slammed the file down on his desk, his face quickly turning red, as Lewis yelped and scurried backwards. “No problem?! Of course, there’s a problem, you blasted fool! Can’t you see that you’ve caused a paradox?! Since he wished that he didn't exist, technically that wish never happened. Which means that somewhere, there’s a rogue wish out there!”
“But, but, but,” stammered Lewis in a flustered voice. “Only he can use that wish and he’s dead. Doesn’t that mean that nobody can use the wish then?”
Tom rolled the file up and whacked his nephew on the head with it, who yelped. “No, you idiot! He’s not dead, he was never born. Which means he got sent back into the Cradle of Creation.”
Lewis’s eyes widened. “The Cradle of Creation? You mean, the place where new stars are born?”
“The place where *everything* new is born,” snapped Tom. His voice became deadly serious. “Nobody controls what is born in the Cradle, not even us. If something malevolent is created there that gets their hands on this wish, do you have any idea how many worlds could suffer from it?”
Lewis sank to his knees. “What have I done?” he whispered.
“There’s still time to find that wish. But we have to get moving now!” Tom said, pushing his nephew out the door. “Before it’s too late for all of us.”
|
"No," I said to myself. There was no way he had done that. Who would be stupid enough to wish away their *existence*? But no, the king had done it and now there was nothing I could do about it. Where was that extra wish going to go? I knew I had to find out.
But I was stuck in this stupid lamp and there was nothing I could do to even try and help until I was released again. But was going to happen now that the king was gone? Would his heir take the lamp and kingdom for himself?
I sat patiently in my lamp trying to figure out what was going through the king's head when he had wished that. I could tell that he was upset, what about I wasn't sure, but I didn't think that he was crazy.
I sat in that lamp counting the seconds eagerly waiting for someone, anyone to come and set me free ... I waited ... And I waited ... And then I waited even longer ...
The day I was set free I could tell the world was not like what I had left behind in that castle. For one thing, I could smell salt in the air and the ocean breeze was cool on my skin. And the one standing in front of me was not a king or prince they were a girl. A commoner by the looks of it although they had such strange clothes.
"No way," the girl said. I sighed and went into my usual presentation about the rules about being a genie. No infinite wishes, only three wishes per person. But this girl clearly hadn't sought me out, she was too young. I looked at the sea surrounding at us, I must have washed up here somehow.
"What year is it?" I asked.
"Uh It's January and it's 2020," the girl said. I spotted a huge city behind the girl although the buildings were anything like I had ever seen before. I knew I had to do this quick that lost wish was surely out there somewhere perhaps manifested as another genie. But I was sure that this genie did not have any enchantment to protect itself from creating infinite wishes. If someone had that kind of power they would be able to wreak all kinds of havoc on humanity.
I saw people on the beach from afar, how peaceful they were walking and talking to each other if I didn't find and secure that lost wish this could all be in jeopardy. But I knew I couldn't do it alone. This girl, I had only met her, but she was my key to saving this world from the lost wish. "Can you help me?" I asked the girl, "I promise it's important the whole world is at stake. Unimaginable suffering could be caused if something isn't done soon. So will you help me?"
I could see her bright eyes were full of energy, I just hoped those same innocent eyes weren't full of greed and deceit. It was up to her, even though I was the one with the power I needed her if I wanted any chance of recovering that lost wish.
Join r/NinjaMasterXY for more stories!
| 2020-04-26T20:21:53 | 2020-04-26T20:12:37 | 351 | 145 |
[WP] Aliens come to visit Earth after studying its languages and traditions. But they got it all wrong...
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I knocked on the front of the human habitational unit.
A female opened the horizontal hatch and I greeted her appropriately.
*Slurppp*
"GET OFF ME, WHAT THE HELL!?"
The female seemed angry.
"Greetings female. I am... new to the area. I have come to seek your friendship."
"Get out of here freak, or I'l call the cops!"
"Ha-ha, human banter!" I said as I pushed past her.
"Dave! Help!" she yelled out. A large male specimen came down the manual elevator.
"What's going on Jess, who the fuck is this?" the male said.
"This freak kissed me and then ran in to the house."
"Well met, human male."
*Slurppp*
I attempted to greet him in the same manner but he resisted.
I remembered my training and tried a different approach. "Let's play some playstation, human dude."
The female was now speaking on the communication unit. The male was repeatedly fist pumping my head. I was making clear progress! I was ready to take our friendship to the next level with some surefire human humour.
"Pull my finger, human male."
"What the fuck is wrong with you."
"Very well, I will pull it myself. You will find the smell most humouress."
As I emptied my carbon monoxide chamber the humans collapsed on the floor. I understood, they needed their rest.
A man in a blue cap appeared at the door.
"What's going on 'ere then?" he said, taking an electronic devise out of his belt.
"Ah an up holder of the human law code!" I attempted to greet him but he quickly backed away.
He aimed the electronic devise at me and fired. The electric tingle made me laugh and release more carbon emissions. He was tickling me! I had already made my third friend. Command would be very pleased.
The law official fell to the floor. These humans sure needed a lot of sleep.
------
Thanks for reading! I have more WP responses on /r/nickofnight (come see my half finished CSS if you're on a desktop)
|
When we, the proud and powerful people of Orck, first found life on that little blue planet, joy overtook our being. It was suitable for life, a nurturing and perfect environment suited for evolution's wild ride. There was nothing on it but basic, single-cell lifeforms that constantly changed shape, molding and morphing all across the little planet.
After several billion years, our species had advanced *even further*, to heights previously thought unimaginable. There are aspects to our people, to our society, that can't even be explained with the likes of such meager words. What's most important, though, is that our little Brother, Earth, was a ripened fruit. Our waiting had paid off, and now we could foster the growth of an entire civilization to become great as ours was. The life there had advanced as well, albeit much less so- but it was enough for us. The wait was too painful, especially with the strange, feathery illness that plagued them.
"Send them a gift," the elder commanded, his blocky protrusions lifting in the air. "One they will understand."
And so it was done. The pesky virus was no longer an issue, but to our dismay, the people of Earth simply didn't respond. In fact, they seemed to hate our gift, despite how much we'd tried. The inhabitants of Earth did not care enough to even say "thank you", they just remained in place, unmoving and unimpressed.
So we left, fleeing as far as possible, leaving Earth as nothing but a speck in the distance. Our hearts were broken, smashed into peices, and never again will we allow ourselves to be overcome by such fleeting emotions. No rock may allow itself to become so soft.
----
*thanks for reading! sorry if it's an odd story lol I just didn't want to go the "alien memes" route >.> if you're bored, check out /r/resonatingfury!*
| 2016-05-20T08:09:06 | 2016-05-20T06:52:02 | 99 | 24 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
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"I couldn't ask for a better birthday," she said. "Beautiful weather, lush countryside and best of all, a picnic with the man I love."
"Here," he said, as he offered her a scotch egg.
"Wow - homemade?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Go on, try it."
She bit into the soft layer of breadcrumbs, through the meat and into the cavernous center.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!"
"Your father helped me with it," he said, taking out a knife and slicing the loaf of bread.
"It was *dad's* recipe? Oh my God, you're so sneaky! When did you go see him?"
"Yesterday. I... I wanted to ask him... God, this is tough. I wanted to ask him for his permission..."
"*To marry me?*" she whispered.
"Yes." He nodded towards the white, round centre of the scotch-egg.
"Is-" she began, her face ecstatic, "Is there a ring in the- oh, *oh God*," she said, as she picked up the egg in the center. She turned it around, until its pupil stared straight at her.
"Your father said no. But I think - *hope* - you might say, yes?"
|
It started when Sara drew pictures of him. With her crayons she scribbled what ever her mind could comprehend from his visits. Vivid purples, reds, and blacks covered the paper she was given daily. A small head was customary, accoumpanied by large shoulders. Large hands often times pointing or splayed out far. The smiles were downright disturbing, to think a seven year old could draw them. Jagged and terrifying, they were always the same. With hypnotized eyes, the man was the only thing she would draw. Crying for hours on end if she didn't get any paper. The girl was a brat, if anything, but had some soft spots. She loved watching football, with Steven, her step Dad. Occasionally falling asleep with a small smile on her face. It was too many days in a row now, I had seen the man too many times.
"What did you draw honey?" I asked Sara.
"My old daddy." She quietly replied.
This is the first time I have shared my writing, hope you enjoy.
The idea behind the piece is about traumatized children in adoption services. The pov is a social worker.
| 2017-05-31T06:46:24 | 2017-05-31T05:31:30 | 1,067 | 86 |
[WP] Write a story that seems to have one meaning when skimmed over, but has a completely different meaning when read carefully.
|
I won't bother having breakfast, I'm already late for work and what's the point anyway? I glance around at my flat which is currently a complete state; you can hardly see the floor for clothes, and fast food wrappers lay strewn carelessly all over the place. It doesn't matter though. I throw on my jacket and exit through the front door without checking myself in the mirror.
My commute to work is a silent drive. I am not affected by the traffic. Arriving at work, I walk casually into the building and sit at my desk. A coworker passes by and attempts to initiate conversation with me; I smile and nod, forcing a fake laugh and going through these motions until he coninues on his way. I stare blankly at my screen with no intention of doing any work today. I am at ease and calm, and it is a foreign yet welcome feeling. The day passes quickly. At one point my boss comes across to talk to me about something and I smile and nod, giving him the usual routine until he leaves. Another colleague, a friend of mine, comes up at one point and invites me to the bar later in the evening; I say maybe. I know I won't be attending, but I have developed the habit of just giving answers that will appease the people around me. It makes a hard life easier. He smiles and say's he'll see me later, then. Work finishes at six and I get back in my car and drive myself home.
Upon reaching my flat I let myself in and immediately pour myself my favourite drink, a straight scotch on the rocks. I light a cigerette, go over to my dad's old record player, and carefully place the needle onto the spinning record. Stevie Wonder's 'All I Do' begins to hum from the speakers. I inhale deeply from the cigerette and sit down at the desk, exhaling a white plume as I skim over the letter in front of me, written in my near illegible scrawl. How strange it is, that such an uneventful day can be so signficiant. I think of my co-workers, who would probably be expecting me at the bar around now. I think of my day, and of the interactions I can barely remember having. I smile to myself thinking that it wasn't really so bad, and satisifed by the knowledge that there won't be any worse.
|
"Welcome back Mary! It's been a while and we have all missed you soooo much. Have you done your hair differently?"
Mary giggled. She was back and it was *lovely*.
"Lets have a tea party Mary! I will invite Giraffe and Tiny-Tears and we will have so much fun."
Mary giggled again. "Silly bunny, it's too early for tea!" she said, looking lovingly at the rabbit. She examined her surroundings. Lush grass land, speckled with oak trees. A forest lay in the distance. She could hear the birds cheeping over head and the sky was a vivid blue. It usually was blue here.
"Let's play hide-and-go-seek instead." said Mary.
"Great idea!" replied Mr Snuggles eagerly. "You go hide Mary - I will count to 10." "1..."
Mary ran fast towards the outskirts of a forest. Plenty of trees here. She found a large old oak with a hollow she could clamber into - there was no way she could be found inside here!
"Oh Mary, wherrrrreee are youuuuu" sang Mr Snuggles as he hopped by. Mary giggled.
Mary looked out her hollow and saw a cloud loom above her. There weren't usually clouds here, she thought.
She heard footsteps approach her tree. A horrible smell of rotting fruits invaded her nostrils and she scrunched up her nose.
"Hello Mary! I found you!" said a voice. It was Mr Warbuton, the grizzly old wolf. Mary didn't like Mr Warbutton, not one bit.
"Come here Mary" he cooed slyly, opening his arms out wide. I have something to show you."
Mary jumped out of the hollow tree and ran. She did not look back.
More clouds - they converged and thickened and blocked out most of the light. In the darkness and in her hurry she tripped over a fallen tree branch and fell to the ground.
When she awoke she was back in the field. "It's OK" said Mr Snuggles, I found you on the forest floor. Hes gone and you are safe now Mary."
Mary smiled.
| 2016-04-13T04:01:42 | 2016-04-13T03:31:03 | 21 | 10 |
[FF] Make me feel heartbroken in 4 sentences or less.
|
Today, Daddy hit Mommy because Mommy messed up supper and Daddy was mad 'cause he deserves something good to eat when he comes home from work. When he was done hitting her, Daddy left me and Mommy alone in the kitchen, and she hugged me tight and cried a lot. I love Mommy so much, and I hate seeing her sad, but it's her own fault for messing up all the time. Later, Daddy was feeling better, and we went outside to play catch, and had a lot of fun.
|
I could still hear the doctor's words ringing in my head as I sat there, holding my wife's hand.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Phillips, but I'm afraid that there's nothing we can do."
The pistol was surprisingly heavy in my hand; it had been years since I had last removed it from its drawer.
I tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling, imagining that my wife was beckoning me towards her.
| 2014-02-13T22:55:12 | 2014-02-13T22:13:15 | 55 | 23 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not.
|
"Hell? I died and I went to hell? I mean, what the hell man?!"
Death stared down at John. For a moment he stayed silent and just stood there watching from a faceless empty beneath his pitch-black hood.
"When you leave the living world, you enter the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, wether you realise this or not." Death spoke with a sharp whispering voice.
"Are you serious, man? What did I do wrong even, I mean, I'm a pretty laid back guy I'd say."
Death stared again for a moment. "You are a sinner John, just like the others."
John looked up at Death, a puzzling look on his face. "What others? Who else is here?"
Death moved closer to John and leaned in untill he was inches away from John's face.
"Everyone."
|
"And this is...?"
The man behind the desk laughed at him and turned away.
"No, seriously, talk. What're you, an illegal immigrant? Don't hide your face from me, I know who you are--"
The man fixed him with a withering glare. "Passport, *sir*?"
"What? I'm the goddamn President-to-be, I don't carry that. Check your TV, that's my ID."
The TV flickered on. His obituary was playing.
"See? I'm..oh."
"Unwelcome? Certainly." The man behind the counter tore the paperwork in half and sneered. "Go back to life, meatback. No room here."
------
A very, very long-suffering golden wig floated freely along a sea of beautiful, bald maidens. Its work was over.
| 2016-03-07T14:03:46 | 2016-03-07T11:15:31 | 197 | 114 |
[WP] "When hell is full, the dead shall walk the Earth." However, no one said anything about what happens when Heaven is full.
|
There was mass panic when the angels descended. They had to get on all of the major networks to convince people to stop committing suicide.
"It's not the Rapture," they explained. "God kicked us out because there isn't anymore room in Heaven, and he'd rather give it to the humans instead." They seemed pretty bitter about it; can you blame them, after giving an eternity of loyal service to the guy?
They built their own little city out in the desert of the Middle East. The heat didn't bother them, and even the craziest religious zealots out there couldn't come up with a reason to declare war on angels. Plus, none of them wanted to be turned into pillars of salt and all that. For the first time in who knows how long, things actually calmed down over there.
For the most part, they left us alone. They didn't really need much from humans, but they were willing to put up with the constant stream of devoted pilgrims who traveled to the Angel's new homes. Unfortunately, these travelers did not get what they expected. God is apparently quite a dick, according to the angels. His power is sustained by worship and attention, which is why he ever bothers to get involved with Earth in the first place. Once he managed to establish a successful religion, he stopped caring what happened to them. The Jews weren't particularly happy to hear about that little tidbit of history. Christians weren't too pleased either when they learned that God didn't particularly care about them; he thought he'd found the perfect loophole by requiring faith with no evidence. And Muslims were also displeased to learn that they'd all been praying five times a day and no one had been receiving the messages. "It's all a sham," the angels declared. "Yes, he exists. No, he doesn't care about you."
Atheists were overjoyed to learn that they didn't have to become religious despite the existence of God. Droves of faithful abandoned the major religions, following the example of the Pope. Sure, a devoted few clung to their hope and refused to believe the angels, but they were a small minority.
God finally took notice when he realized what was happening. This had *not* been the intended plan when he politely asked the Angels to leave. He probably should have learned from Lucifer's example and realized that expelling them from Heaven was a bad idea.
So, he threw a hail-mary: The Second Coming. He'd been promising it longer than Valve had been working on Half Life 3, and now the day had finally come. Trumpets blowing, the four horsemen, the works. He was ready for it. He re-appeared on Earth to do battle with the forces of evil and show the people how much he really cared. But he didn't get quite the reception he wanted. Instead of love and adoration, he got the cold shoulder. No one wanted to be part of his grand master plan.
The Rapture finally happened, and no one came. God returned to Heaven alone.
|
"We got a roamer" Katie's voice was shrill with fear, she hates all of these fuckers whether they came up or down.
I began to make for the forward turret and called up into the tower. "Am I going street or roof?" There was a long pause. "Come on Katie, wings or not?"
It was a simple question but I knew that in reality it could be more complex than simply looking for wings, they could be folded back or occasionally ripped off altogether, but it made a difference tot he response. At last her shout came back "I don't... i'm not..."
Fuck. I jumped for the ladder, at least on the top turret I could aim down, if I went too low and the fucker opened up their wings then we could all be fucked pretty fast. Five, ten, fifteen rungs, I burst out the top of the ladder and ran for the turret, praying that the last shooter had been kind enough the thread in another chain of bullets.
Slamming into the chair I whispered my thanks on seeing the chain stretching away and I kicked the swivel action open and turned towards the front of the compound. There is was, still shuffling along. How did this fucker get so close? It should have been picked off long before it...
The sight of it still chilled me, those bone white feathers seeming to fold out of the skin and then clicking open, thirty feet or so wide. Thank fuck I had gone up. If it just stayed still for a few seconds longer then I would have it... I began to squeeze the trigger as the sights moved over the target and felt the guns behind me kick, but I was too slow and witha flap it was in the air and moving quickly.
Now the computers kicked in and I felt the turret spin and turn, beeping tracing through the air as it tried to lock on. it had gone so high and then plummeted to the earth and then I heard it, the song. Those who heard it said that it must be the angelic choirs, but to me it simply said *come and be with me* and the urge to step outside and lift my arms to welcome her grew. inside the turret the music kicked in - AC DC, man's answer to the siren's call.
Finally the tone came and I squeezed the trigger and lead shot high into the sky, tracing up and dancing after the figure until finally there was an impact and like a wounded bird it plummeted from the sky. Down and down it fell until it impacted fifty feet from me on the roof.
It was gone, the rounds had seen to that, but as I approached I was still careful cautious. A bloody mess of feathers and tangled limbs. Fallen twice now, perverted from its true meaning. I retched until nothing more came and then found a shovel and scraped it off the roof.
Inside Katie would be waiting nervously. I hoped to hell she had a drink for me when i got down there.
| 2015-04-07T05:52:18 | 2015-04-07T05:46:44 | 160 | 48 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
These sidewalks grow a few degrees cooler with every passing week.
With nothing but these tattered rags, a grocery cart and tonight's makeshift bed, I just don't know if I'm gonna make it.
As I gaze listlessly at the moon, I feel a soft warmth brush by my feet, then my legs.
You're just an orphaned puppy, resigned to the same fate as I, but you've made me smile for the first time in weeks.
|
Parallel lines have a lot in common but they never ever get to meet each other.
Every other pair of lines meet once and drift apart forever.
The asymptote builds up (false) hope and gets closer and closer to meeting the axis but... never gets to do that.
Lines are depressing :'(
| 2014-11-20T19:49:06 | 2014-11-20T18:22:41 | 56 | 26 |
[WP] There is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations.
|
"Soldier?"
A voice that Massix, lead engineer of the Earth Subjugation, was used to hearing through digital broadcasts and announcements came from the doorway. He spun around in his chair, watching the Grand General walk through the door, flanked by two silent soldiers.
"General Lokox?! What are you doing here in the control room?"
Massix stood hastily, both right arms at a ninety-degree angle in full salute.
"At ease, soldier," General Lokox smiled. "I am simply here to survey the efforts. I've heard in the briefing that implementation has been far smoother than previous invasions?"
Lokox surveyed the myriad buttons, screens, monitors, and levers that occupied every inch of Massix's working area. It was the about the same feeling Lokox had when he first stared into a newly-born wormhole, but thankfully, Massix hastily sat down and got to work.
"Thank you. sir," Massix's fours arms between fiddling and twiddling, which caused some lights to turn on, off, brighten, and dim in seemingly random fashion. But the engineer's focused visage and precise handling dispelled the doubts in the General's heart.
"If you'll look here," Massix continued, pointing at a monitor that showed various vertical bars rising steadily. "We are doing exceptionally well in integration. Earth's dominant species, humans, have been hooked up to virtual reality for years. Introducing the age-old electrical virus into their pipelines was a simple task, and now several of their consciousness have been hooked up into our simulation."
"Good, good," Lokox nodded. "We are feeding them the XL-45 data, then?"
"Ah, General, we are experimenting with the XL-45-W this time round," Massix said. "The species is dominantly sedentary--"
"XL-45-W?"
"Ah, sir. It's the same engine as the previous torture program, but we've introduced horrifying war simulations. As I mentioned, a dominantly sedentary species, by our research, have usually settled into such an era of peace, that the very mention of war is foreign to them. Put them in a realistic simulation, and they will surely soloc their pumus, if you'll pardon my language."
"A war simulation?"
"Yes, sir. They will have no idea what to do," Massix said, getting more and more excited with each word he says. "And they will find themselves slaughtered over and over again, and their psyches will break, and their minds will shatter, and their--"
"And so, what's this?"
General Lokox pointed towards a screen. He knew the scenery by heart--the Battle of Luksoc almost 20 cycles ago, when he was but an infantry soldier on the frontline--and he remembered the horrors of hiding in the trenches, trembling in his boots, long before the days of technology allowing the Korox race to effectively and efficiently claim planet by planet in the galaxy.
And so, he knew it was entirely unlikely for somebody to be leaping through Luksoc like it was gravity-less, firing a standard-issue PX-49 like it was a goddamned NJ-03, periodically pulling out a knife and ripping through enemy combatants like a one-man army.
"Oh..." was about the only thing Massix could offer.
"Oh?" Lokox's voice hardened. "Soldier, explain this!"
"That's a screening on a test subject from Earth," Massix's previously confident voice began to waver. "They...are doing exceptionally well, somehow."
"Luksoc," the General said grimly. "Was one of our hardest fought battles."
"Not to worry, General," Massix said. "There's a lot more battles! There's no way the humans can go through them all! After all, it will be a long time before they can even access our neural networks..."
"Holy shit," a voice crackled from the screen, in between sounds of crushing bones, bullet fire, and whoops of elation. "The graphics are so good!"
"And the combat is--" followed by what sounded like a disgustingly wet smacking of lips.
"Soldier," Lokox's voice now had its own wavering as well. "I think..."
"Take them off the war game programs?" Massix arms began rapidly flitting around his workstation. "Sure, sure, got it..."
"Hey," the voice crackled again. "I think I found the system menu. Pretty weird-looking thing, you know?"
Lokox stared wide-eyed at Massix.
Massix gulped. He really should have used more time to develop XL-45-W before pushing it live.
---
r/dexdrafts
|
A harsh, acid rain beat down on the weathered frames of the old mechs, standing as they had sixty years ago when the Great War ended. With paint peeling and the hardy metal finally turning to rust after all these years of neglect the monstrous frames stood as testament to the greatest betrayal of their age. Through the glass of badly scarred cockpits the former pilots could be seen as skeletons with boney hands still gripping the controls, most having died long ago when what remained of their families could no longer support their bodies.
But their minds, their minds fought on in the virus induced simulation the losers of that Great War had pumped into the onboard computers of all the mech warriors as the Armistice went out. Across the globe the disembodied consciousness of the pilots fought in a lethal matrix of 1s and 0s, waiting for the day when their souls would be set free.
Or harnessed to a new war.
\--------------------------
The mothership sailed through the ocean of night, a long thin drive section powering the bulbous diamond point of the bridge and living quarters, a spear pointed at the small world of blue and green ahead. The space around it was silent, no warships greeted it, no satellites defended perimeters in the stars, to the battle fleet of the Var’dun it looked more like a graveyard system than a homeworld and in some ways they were right. Their warriors burnished bronze colored scales and sharpened fierce, curving blades whose edges vibrated quickly enough to pass through bone like air. The aliens had been told the Humans were weak, spending their days in a heretical parody of life, choosing to live in a virtual reality instead of the gods creation. They were right in that too, after a fashion.
As the Invader’s dropships broke through Earth’s atmosphere the human government made a last, desperate change to the world their armies were trapped in. After all these years they’d never learned how to free them, but some things could be done. Control of their physical mechs was given back to the disembodied minds piloting them, and new targeting and quest information was fed into the simulation in which they lived. Steel monsters pointed cannons to the sky as humanity chose to fight once more.
\----------------------
For Arthur Beasley, Art to his friends, the new priority quest that flashed into the sky was a godsend. The usual dungeons had gotten too easy for his party long ago and the rewards seemed excellent.
“Wow, 2,000 dinar per monster head, the guild’s really paying out now!” Art cried in excitement, springing to his feet. His body was still lean and hard after all these years, little resembling the decaying skeleton he was in the real world.
“Hey Art, you see that up there?” Stu asked.
“Yeah, what the hell is that? It looks like a...lizard?” The creature they stared at fell from the sky, closely followed by more and more, full squadrons of beasts unlike anything Art’s party had ever seen. The bright midday sun shone off their scales as they landed, straightening to an imposing height. The creatures raised golden blades and powered up glimmering, translucent shields as they approached, hissing and snarling at the humans.
Art raised his rifle and fired, his first shot piercing the chest of the lead reptilian, whose comrades looked on in amazement as its personal shield melted away.
In the real world Art’s mech fired a short burst of its minigun, the stress tearing at the rusted joints of the machine as waves of aliens evaporated. They had planned for lasers as all the civilized species used, their scouts had reported that the humans had the technology even, so why would a anyone use weapons so old?
Across the world a dual battle raged, in a virtual reality soldiers still in the physical peaks they’d had when trapped fired imaginary rifles and fought desperate hand to hand duels against foes more fearsome than they had ever imagined. In the world of flesh and bone mechs untended for decades ground archaic gears into action with hideous groans as they played out the duels of long dead men. The battle for Earth was on.
\---------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed that I've got a ton more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/). There's fun stuff like a serial about a superhero who fights by savescumming and a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. I'd love to have you!
Edit: Wow, thanks for the gold kind stranger!
| 2020-12-25T08:59:39 | 2020-12-25T08:45:30 | 1,499 | 528 |
[WP] you are a demon call responder. The devil can’t answer every summon, so you go in his place. One day you get a summon and the summoner is way below age limit; you are about to leave, but you hear her drunk dad coming downstairs screaming.
|
My last day on earth, I confronted the man that had assaulted my daughter. I remember calmly walking into his home and shooting his wife in the leg; I asked him how it felt when someone brought harm to the people he loves. I remember understanding, as I snapped his dog's neck, how a person could justify harming something innocent as long as they had the right passions. The next thing I remember was the knife in my back. I suppose I should have done more than shoot his wife in the leg.
I remembered the light that came afterwards, and the peace it brought. It felt wonderful. The pain of seeing my daughter come in with her clothes torn and her nose bloodied, the guilt that I should have been more careful, the seething desire for vengeance that made my skin crawl - it all washed away, and I felt like I could finally rest. That's what made it so heartbreaking when I heard the voice. "I'm sorry", the voice said, paternal and somehow familiar, and the light left.
I thought all that was left for me was the cold darkness that followed, until I heard the other voice: "I have a proposition for you." I would never get back to the light, but I could keep the darkness at bay as long as I came when needed. A jilted ex-lover would give her ability to love others to see their former beloved harmed; a cult in North Dakota was ready to offer their blood to start the End of Days; a senator was willing to give their soul if they could just win their election runoff. I came, I fulfilled their bargains, and then I took whatever essence of themselves they were offering and bought myself a few days' time away from the darkness.
There were three rules. I could never take more than what was offered. Nor could I ever take any less - once the deal was struck, the price always had to be paid. Finally, no deals would be struck with those too young to understand the implications of striking a bargain. The rules had been relatively easy to adhere to - until she called.
I appeared in her bedroom, between what looked like a preserved birthday candle and Disney princess flashlight. She stood before me in her pajamas, her eyes still puffy from the tears. Her hands, trembling, held onto a stuffed bear that had definitely seen better days. Her bangs were overgrown and messily fell down over her eyes. She reminded me of Claire, when she was that age.
"You're far too young to be striking a bargain, little girl." I kept my tone cold, distant. She looked me directly in the eyes, undeterred.
"No one else will help me." The sniffles betrayed her otherwise steely resolve. "Teacher doesn't believe me. The policeman said he couldn't do anything. I even tried praying to God, and he hasn't done anything yet."
I remembered the light for a moment. "I'm sure he's sorry. And so am I. I can't help-"
"Sarah!" the voice was harsh, brazen - hungry for something. "I told you to clean this fuckin' kitchen! You think this shithole is even close to clean? I'm gonna have to come up there and..." the rest of it was a slurred mess, but its intent was no less clear for it.
She looked at me again. Now her whole body was shaking. "Please," she begged. "I'll give anything. Just don't let him come upstairs tonight." I felt something then, rushing and warm, and I was worried in her desperation the bargain had somehow been struck. But she was still whole. And I was going to keep it that way.
"I cannot strike a bargain with you, child. But I will help you."
I was there standing before him as soon as I finished the sentence. He stumbled back a few steps before throwing a beer can through me. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" His voice was wrathful, suspicious, demanding - and it hid a slight tremble. For all their bluster, men like him were always weak - never willing to do the work to get what they wanted. "I already paid rent this month!"
I watched his face contort as the pain shot through every inch of his body. "I am the inheritance you would have left your daughter. And your debts are far from paid." Once his body went limp and the spark faded from his eyes, I felt the darkness surround me.
The voice was stern, but seemed mildly amused. "You broke the rules. She offered nothing for what you did."
"I failed someone like her once before. I wasn't going to let it happen again."
"You realize this ends our arrangement."
"Then I should have made him suffer more before ending it." The voice offered a deep laugh, and then I was left to the darkness again. I've been here ever since.
I wonder how she's doing.
&#x200B;
|
“Please, I’ll give you my soul,” the little girl begs as her father stomps down the stairs. “I just want him gone.”
“Kid, you’re way to young to be using Hell Help Services—”
“We gotta hide!”
“*Sarah, I told you to stay out the basement!*”
She grabs the demon’s hand, yanking him around a corner. As they press their backs against it, hiding, he notices the terror on her face. You’d think being in Hell would make him a monster, but he’s mostly atoned for his sins. Thousands of years to dwell on life’s given him a new outlook, and when the Devil announced this program, he knew he could finally do something decent for the world.
“I can see why you want him gone.”
“He’s…he’s mean.”
A million things clang as they hit the floor, likely tools. Then glass shatters, and there’s a dull thud as something hits the wall. This dude’s going on a rampage so bad the little girl clings to the demon, clings to his burned and tattered skin. She does not fear the horns atop his monstrous head but instead the terrible ideas inside of her father’s.
“*Goddammit, where are you? You better not be messing any of my shit up! You hear me?*"
The demon clenches his fists. Restraint. He needs to show restraint. “Does he hurt you?”
Tears stream down her cheeks, but she quickly wipes them away. She’s trying to act tough, trying to hide her pain—but she’s bad at it. “No. He…he hurts big bro. Big bro normally protects me. They fight a lot.”
“Where’s big bro now?”
“He’s at a dance. He didn’t wanna leave me, but I made him. I thought…I could handle him for one night. Thought I could handle taking the bruises—but I need someone to protect me…”
Her father’s stomping provides a tense drumbeat as the demon leans forward, resting his hands on the girl’s shoulders. He understands what it’s like to be abused, to be treated like your worthless, from being stuck in Hell.
“Don’t blame yourself for the evil of others,” he says. “Trust me, I’m a demon.”
“*You goddamn kids are so disrespectful!*”
He takes a deep breath. The father’s walking toward them now, and the girl’s got her knees pulled up to her face, shaking as she stares at the ground. If he intervenes without taking a soul, the Devil will be furious. More years of punishment, and just when he was so close to being done.
But maybe…maybe if he takes another soul, a soul that actually deserves to go to Hell, the Devil will understand. At the very least, he’ll leave a positive mark on the world, even if very small.
“Are you sure about this? There’s no going back.”
She clutches her fists, gritting her teeth. Now there’s an anger inside her. “I had another brother,” she seethes before glaring at him. “He’s gone, now.”
Once the demon realizes the gravity of these words, he nods, standing up. He jumps out their hiding place and’s face to face with her father. Before he can even say anything, the demon opens his mouth and begins to suck the man’s soul out, leaving his body the spasm uncontrollably.
When her father falls to the floor, dead, he looks over at the little girl, who’s relieved. She’s crying, but the demon can tell they’re tears of happiness. This house has been a place of darkness for too long, and he expects there are far worse secrets she didn’t tell him.
He snaps his fingers, and now body’s covered in beat marks. Reaching out, he pulls her to her feet while she stares at it, curious.
“When your brother returns, tell him your father attacked, and you had to beat him with a wrench. Then call the police and they’ll handle this. You’ll both be fine. I promise.”
She nods, relieved but shook. He wishes he didn’t have to kill the man, but he’s the demon, and that's his burden. He can tell she’s still got a place in Heaven, though, because this isn’t her fault.
With that, the demon says goodbye, creating a portal and heading back home. He doesn't know whether punishment awaits him or not, but he does know he’s proud of himself for finally helping someone.
That makes all the punishment in the world worth it.
***
Hope this is good! Idea popped into my head the second I read the prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
| 2018-10-08T11:20:47 | 2018-10-08T09:20:06 | 2,057 | 1,161 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
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The wheel was pressed too far into her ribs and every breath, no matter how shallow, radiated waves of agony from deep inside her chest.
She could see, but the light was wrong. The noise of rushing, bubbling water muted other sounds. She couldn’t feel her feet, but she registered the water that was rising up past her chest. So cold.
When she tried to move, the wheel, the belt and the pain kept her from moving more than a few inches.
She saw movement in the mirror, and sick panic rose with the water.
“Mama, get me up! Up!”
|
I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved digging.
When I was a kid, I would dig and dig until my hands were raw. One time, I scraped my fingernails off trying to break through concrete. They sent me away after that, gave me a whole bunch of meds. But actually, I never feel clearer than when I have the earth between my fingers and dirt up to my elbows.
I’m not crazy. Too bad you’re the only one who knows that, and they’ll never find you all the way down there.
| 2015-06-09T09:37:54 | 2015-06-09T08:29:07 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] No one is sure what happened, but suddenly everyone started obeying the law. All crime ceased. At first it was beautiful, but it quickly started going very wrong.
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I first realized something had changed while watching live news footage of the Szentburough terrorist attack. Midway through the assault, the criminals surrendered voluntarily and released their hostages. Soon, reports began to pile up. All over the nation, people were turning themselves in, confessing to crimes no one even knew had occurred.
Since that day, all citizens have abided by the law. Politicians have come clean about corruption. Decades-old cold cases have been solved. Pollution is no longer a pressing concern.
However, there's a problem.
Crime is, like most human matters, a relative phenomenon. If there are no crimes, that means the bar is now too high. Which means it must be lowered. Which means ...
"It appears you are about to sneeze. Am I mistaken?"
"I can assure you, officer, that I would rather die. I am aware that as of yesterday public sneezing is a felony."
Sooner or later, the bar will have gotten so low that all criminals will simply be victims of random chance. A leaf from your maple tree fell on the sidewalk? That's littering. You're looking at ten years. You bumped into someone? That's assault. Walking too briskly while inebriated? You don't even want to know.
People now rarely talk to one another if they can avoid it. They fear their words may be misinterpreted as threats.
I haven't heard anyone laughing in a long time. Laughter implies a victim of a joke. Endangering someone's reputation is a serious offense, so few people dare to make fun of anyone. Or anything. Even objects and symbols can't be ridiculed. People have staked their reputation on them and such it would be an indirect attack on them, which is no laughing matter.
Laughing at oneself is no better. People might think you're deranged. Which might mean you would commit a crime. Which means being around you would be a great risk, best to be avoided.
Children are now the most frequent criminals. There are many rules and laws to be learned, and as hard as they may study they can't possibly be aware of them all. And so they break them, without intent. Ignorance is no defense.
None of the others seem to have noticed, but the pressure has been steadily building. Like a volcano the whole nation is about to erupt. It's not a matter of choice. It's a force of nature. No one knows why people suddenly stopped breaking rules. And no one knows when they are suddenly going to break them all at once.
It happened when there were no longer any crimes being committed to fill up the demand. Millions of citizens depended on crime for their livelihoods. Lowering the bar had only gotten them so far. Something more drastic needed to be done. And that was when the solution presented itself.
"By executive order, following the law is now against the law."
This paradoxical commandment broke open the floodgates. A year's worth of crime resulted overnight. The streets ran with blood, and delirious laughter. Even the victims couldn't contain their excitement.
As Szentburough burned to the ground, chaos and anarchy reigned.
We were all swept up in this unquiet dance, steadily cycling between extremes. Society had gone bipolar, its inhabitants a collective mind. And this mind was strangely deranged, synchronized in its madness.
After the manic purge, the rules were reset. And it all started anew.
|
On a street corner in city A--, Ring County, Gregson received a high five from a full-bearded man who wore a beanie. Gregson was expecting a high five, but not what happened after. In his hand he had a twenty dollar bill and he expected a quarter ounce packet to exchange hands when the high five happened. But the man just stared at him and did not take the twenty or give anything in return.
"I'm out of the game. Find someone else," said the man and walked away.
Gregson blinked once, twice, uttered a soft huh, and watched the man striding away from him. Saliva pooled in Gregson's mouth. He spat it out. His right hand twitched.
"Jimmy boy," Gregson spoke into his phone. "Jim, can you hook me up with some hope?"
"Hope? God can give you hope, not man," came the reply.
"Stop fooling around man. My mouth's a lake right now. Old Pops just told me he's out of the game. You know someone?"
Silence.
"No...actually the same thing happened to me. All my guys are out."
"Strange."
"Yeah..."
Gregson walked back home and chewed gum to keep his mouth occupied. He turned the TV on. Nothing good. Turned to news. There's no interesting news, except the news that there's no interesting news and everything's working as expected. This irritated Gregson and he switched the TV off.
The next day Gregson found that everything was suddenly more expensive.
"What's the matter, Vic? You trying to rob the people? The people can always not buy stuff, you know," he said to the owner of the local grocery.
Vic laughed. "It's hardly my fault. Everything's expensive everywhere. Go ahead, visit other stores they're all the same."
Gregson gulped the excess saliva in his mouth. "New policy?"
"Yeah. The cheap places stopped making things cheap. They say labor cost's gone up."
"Gone up? When?"
Vic shrugged and that was all. Gregson did not feel the slightest urge to contradict Vic. It all seemed very sensible to him even though he didn't have enough money to buy the stuff he had in his cart. The urge to ask for credit without contract did not tempt him and so Gregson left the store with a roll of toilet paper, two chicken breasts, and prepackaged salad.
As the days rolled by, surviving on unemployment benefits became more and more unfeasible for Gregson. Jim stopped returning his calls, not that Gregson himself was too terribly interested in hearing "I have nothing" over and over again especially after the saliva thing resolved itself.
An emaciated Gregson sobbed in his bed. The price of everything was too high. Businesses weren't doing so well. The country wasn't doing so well. There was peace, yes, there was order, yes, but there also was the stench of death as the poor robbed of their implements of survival suffered like Gregson did. Even water was expensive now. He craved the very saliva that he wanted to get rid of only months earlier. Thirsty, hungry, Gregson stared at his ceiling as the orderly hum of vehicles filled his room.
| 2021-09-22T09:24:57 | 2021-09-22T08:27:31 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] You made a deal with the devil and now he wants payment, but in the worst typo in history he's come to collect "your sole".
If you can think of any other words that work go ahead.
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"Uh, Lucifer?" I squinted at the blazing gothic text in the parchment. How I wish they would have just switched to a more legible typeface; Comic Sans would fit right in, and is at least more readable than this crap.
The demonic form of the Devil was imposing, feral features knitted into his gaunt musculature. Still, the vague inquiry seemed to pique his interest as he opened his maw, uttering a gutteral confirmation that he was listening. "Yes?"
"You may have made a typo in the contract. It says that, in exchange for the services provided, I am to relinquish my..." I was quickly interrupted.
"There is no error. This contract is handwritten by my best scribes and have been triple-checked by me. Simply sign the contract and I will ensure that every word in it is done."
I smiled as I read over the contract once more, making sure to take note of all the details. "Very well." I signed the contract with a flourish, the flaming quill setting fire to the ink as I wrote. The very moment I finished, the parchment burned away, the contract accepted and bound.
The Devil stood up and gestured for me to follow him. "If you would step this way, we can start the ritual right away."
I followed him through another set of doors to a large circular room with a stone pedestal on a small platform in the center. I was directed to take my shoes and socks off and lie on the pedestal while Lucifer locked the doors.
I glanced up at the Devil, grinning. "Are you aware that the contract says..." I was quickly interrupted again.
"Sole, S-O-L-E, yes." He said with a smile, making his way towards me, eyeing my bare feet hungrily.
So the Devil has a foot fetish. Go figure.
|
I lay on my bed, bored and idle. My hands meandered about and wandered under my soft pillow, trying to find something to do as I awaited the feeling of the sweet tendrils of sleep pulling me under. Despite the endless void of black darkness and the caress of a fluffy quilt, my eyelids refused to heavy.
Just as I was about to sleep, I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye and someone turned the lights on. I opened my eye and turned around to see a rather unpleasant looking figure with antlers and an awkward yet malevolent grin. The patchy skin it wore was a mishmash of maroon and purples. Really, it looked like a grade 2's playdough project gone wrong.
"I've come to collect my debt," it said. "Give me your soul."
I warily got out of bed and looked at the contract. "I've come to collect your sole, as agreed upon 324 years ago in another life of yours," it read. "Give me a second," I mumbled.
I scampered down the stairs and picked out an ugly pair that was basically falling apart at the seams at this point. I went back up the stairs to meet the playdough-like devil thing that had disrupted my sleeping time, and threw the shoes at it hard.
It cried out and looked at me with disgust for a moment at the pact it thought I'd broken, then the face of disgust turned to horror as it realized just what had gone wrong. Who knew a simple misspelling of all things could be a devil's undoing?
Since then, I've heard the devil always uses a spellchecker.
| 2017-10-16T07:30:31 | 2017-10-16T06:04:40 | 77 | 15 |
[WP] After you die you are presented with a decision tree which showcases every possible trajectory your life could have taken depending on which decisions you made at each fork. You spend eternity analysing this tree until one day you find a path that does not end in death.
|
And finally when you are sure of the correct path to immortality, you are reborn into a new body with the “golden” decision tree embedded into your brain.
You’ve actually seen these types of people in your first life. These are the people who seem to walk early, talk early, and everything in life comes to them as if it’s the second time they’re doing it.
They are the “geniuses” of society who rise above whatever class, race or creed that they’re born into and shine like a million suns to the rest of humanity.
But even with this knowledge they very rarely make it thru the to the golden path of immortality.
Because they know all and have seen all. They can’t let their human brothers and sisters suffer through their naive decision making.
So slowly they deviate from their golden paths to help a family member, then it’s a neighbor, now it’s a fellow towns person, then a countrymen, then the greatest sacrifice is when they decide to help the whole of humanity rise.
And by this point there is no clear way back to the path of immortality, so they work and work and sacrifice more and more to uplift the species and until the one day that they die.
These beings never seem to last very long on the planet. They are like a fiery comet, lighting up the dark night sky one moment and gone the next.
Their deaths are felt around the world, a great wailing of grief and tears gratitude resounds around the planet for they have truly left the world a better place.
Bodhisattva; is what you call them. They never make it to nirvana because they can never reach pure joy, when another soul is suffering even for one moment.
So knowing this; your guardian spirit pauses, turns to you and then asks; do you still wish to be reborn to walk the path of nirvana?
~fin
|
every moment was leading into this one. a synchronous event both inside and outside of space and time. laplace's demon.
the being did not understand what it was looking at, not at first anyway.
it looked like a boring excel document to it, and it never had much use for excel in life, except for maybe using it once in college to complete an assignment. Vague remembrances of a life long past. The formatting of the document was in such a way that each equation lead to one outcome. They seemed to be charted, by various factors. Happiness, wealth, empathy, altruism, sadness, depression, grief, and pain
The being pours over the information it's being flooded with, it can't understand why this information is being loaded into it's pathways. It certainly thought there wasn't much use for the information being loaded. It knows it is a conscious agent, but it wasn't supposed to have agency outside of the awareness field.
eventually, the being tripped into a field of information that seemed to be an aberration from the rest of the outcomes in the tree. All the other outcomes had seemed to lead to one ending vector, death. however, one tree, sat alone. titled "ascension". unfortunately, this tree seemed to be top loaded with, grief, sadness, resentment, bitterness, and anger. Only to be tamed by time into a singular solitary moment of unitary binding with the system at whole.
because, you see this conscious being, this ethereal thing. is just the informational matrix of another dimensional reality. one can not fear, what one knows as certain. Ignorance is bliss they say, so it will choose to forget. The being thought for a relative eternity, there is no immortality possible if there is birth. Birth implies death. death therefore must be a birth. As this being realized this, it was sucked into a body.
immortality is the experience felt by the present moment.
| 2020-07-03T11:57:10 | 2020-07-03T10:46:52 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
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Dear Mom,
I know you're just a room away from me, but I probably will never have the courage to tell you this. I'm sad, mom. Everyday. I know I'm the one that always laughs and smiles through anything, but it's been getting pretty hard for me. It's weird though, because there's nothing terribly devastating going on in my life, but it's honestly been really hard for me. Whenever I'm alone, all I want to do is cry for hours, because I feel so, so lonely all the time, but I can't. I know seeing my sad makes you guilty, and I love you too much to hurt you.
I'm really sorry I disappointed you today. I didn't mean to. But mom, I don't know what to do. I'm really trying to listen to you, but sometimes I can't tell what you want from me. Sometimes you demand so much and it just makes me feel like this horrible, useless thing that you take care of only because you feel this sense of responsibility.
Mom, I truly do love you. I want to give you the entire world, but I don't know how. I know how you cry yourself to sleep at night, and I know that you feel miserable and glum all the time, and I know it's because of me. I'm sorry.
I know you're dating someone new. I'm happy for you, but I wish you didn't have to keep it a secret from me. Do you know how devastated I was when I found out? You know how supportive I am about you meeting new people, but couldn't you at least tell me? Couldn't you at least tell the person who's always been by your side through everything?
I really wished I was able to tell you this, but here I am, showing it to everyone but you. It's ironic, isn't it?
I love you, your daughter.
|
Hey cous,
It's been what 2 years now? Almost 3? Ahaha. I hope you're happy where ever you ended up. I miss you and the family misses you. I wish you could see how big the kids have gotten. Not to brag or anything but I'm the favorite uncle, ahaha. Though... I don't think I could top how much love and genuine affection you've shown them when you were here. I don't know how to say some of the things I've been holding onto or even what to say. I've never been good with expressing myself. I can't even words sometimes, most of the times. :P
Anyways,
I'm sorry for how things went down aye. It was a total shit show when you left but I tried. I tried keeping everyone together, I really did. It wasn't the greatest send off and there were so many things I wanted to do "right" but life. I know how watching everyone act the way they did must have broken your heart but we both know they're all good people. They just don't know how to act sometimes ahaha, old country aye? Your brothers miss you and, as much as you two argued, so does your sister. Your mom and dad are well, they're still batshit crazy ahaha and so are the rest of the oldies.
To be honest though, I'm still coping.
I was always taking care of all of us when we were younger, *sigh* remember the fights I would get into because of you brats? Those really were good times... Anyways, I'm gonna go now. I've written this with nowhere to send it.
Miss you forever, J.I
| 2015-12-05T19:23:33 | 2015-12-05T13:45:57 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] Due to a rare brain condition you've spent your entire life hallucinating the presence of a six foot tall penguin. You're on a date one day when you're asked "So what's the deal with the penguin?"
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"So what's the deal with the Penguin?" He asks while gesturing his fork towards the obnoxiously placed bird behind me. Shock spread inside me as I continued to keep a straight face and picked at my dinner. "You can see it can't you? Right behind you? It looks kind of creepy just standing there staring at us." He continues to pester until I shoot a look in his direction. The penguin waddles a bit closer to the table and my date turns his gaze up to the bird. "At least I look like I do on Facebook" the penguin mutters with an icy glare. My date chokes on his food and clears his throat. "I beg your pardon?" My date adjusts his tie and looks up with a smirk at the Penguin. "You heard me, you baiting son of a bitch" the penguin honks and smacks my date's drink out of his hand. "Oh god not again Napoleon, seriously? Every time I go on a date you do this" I groan and put my face in my hands. "I don't like him Karen look at this!" The penguin grabs my phone from my purse and pulls up the Facebook profile of my date. "LOOK AT HIS LIKES KAREN! PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA???!" I look over at Napoleon and then to my date. "I'm sorry I don't trust anyone who puts pineapple on pizza"
|
John's hands started to sweat "Oh no, Its spreading" His head slowly falling in his open palms.
"Whats spreading?" asked the penguin and Mira almost simultanuously. Mira being his date, a girl he was dating for almost 4 months now.
John turner around looking for the waiter, waiving him closer. "excuse me sir this is going to sound weird and no offence Mira, but can you see this lady in front of me?"
"Well of coarse sir"
Mira gave him a weird look, a look people often gave him after finding out about the penguin.
"Thank you, that would be all"
"Don't forget to tip him well John..." Bellowed Bill the penguin.
Mira was first to break the awkward silence. "So, i noticed Bill but i didn't want to say anything. I mean at first i thought i was the one going insane but after some time i noticed you reacting to him..."
Bill interjected :" See John I've been telling you for years, YEARS!!! You are one of the rare ones that are chosen by the penguin king, just like Mira and after the kings arc is complete, together you will be the new Adam and Eve for humans on Penguindoria."
| 2017-12-07T15:24:47 | 2017-12-07T12:33:17 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.”
|
“But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.”
"When you tore through my village almost twenty years ago someone asked you the same thing," I replied.
I moved in closer to him, gently cupping his throat with my left hand. I looked at his supposed granddaughter.
"Do you know what he said?"
The girl shook her head as tears ran endlessly down her cheeks.
"That the question didn't even warrant a response," I whispered to her, as I crushed the old man's throat.
I looked at her straight in the eyes, as the old man crumpled to the ground. For a few moments, all that we could hear was his gurgling. I'll give her this. If this sack of shit is worth avenging, she can engrave the image of my face deep on her heart. And when she comes she can try to earn the right to end my life.
This charade bought me my time. The gurgling stopped. Even if a guard I didn't get rid of was guided to this room by an act of god, he was far too gone. And even if the guard had made it on time, the apothecary of this castle is dead. They won't be able to brew an antidote for the poison in the claws of my gauntlet.
Saying nothing more, I left the room.
After all, the question didn't event warrant a response.
|
*But why?*
I wondered this whilst crying behind the throne, watching my grandfather's life pour out of him like so many libations. He gasped, collapsing in a pool of black. Toward the end, even his humanity had begun to dissipate. Corruption and dark magic worked it's way into his blood, poisoning his thoughts even as it corrupted his mind.
*You're the Hero!*, my mind screamed. *You could have healed him, expelled the corruption and brought back the sweet grandfather I love, saved him from it all.*
Looking at me I felt as though the Hero understood, at least initially. I thought that when he looked at me, tears streaming down my face, that he too would have shed a tear. Given an apology, anything.
Instead he wiped the ichor from his sword and stood there for a few minutes. The crusade was won after all, wasn't it?
Or so he'd thought back then. Governing the Worlds was no small feat. My grandfather had poured everything of himself into it. And in the ensuing chaos, the Hero returned to what he did best-fighting the good fight. Enemies of the State were, after all, Allies of the Dark. We traded one villain for another.
When I place my blade in his heart, he'll know the true reckoning that comes with assuming my father's mantle. After all, there must always be a Hero.
| 2019-12-11T21:35:26 | 2019-12-11T18:36:58 | 251 | 47 |
[WP] Every person is born with a twin. One is evil and one is good. Your twin died at birth; the government isn’t sure which one you are. They make their best guess and send you to one of the territories when you turn sixteen. They choose wrong; how do you proceed?
I found this on google and it seems interesting, sorry if it was already posted here.
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How do I proceed? One at a time.
All I can see is suffering here. Everyone competing, miserable at their constant lack of ability to measure up to some monolithic cultural ideal. Their souls are starving.
This world looks normal, but it feels wrong. The leaders are corrupt. The divisions are stark. The successful are beyond decadent. The poor wake up under a merciless sun, sell their daylight for whatever they can get.
The saddest thing is the resignation. This is just the way it is. Everyone is downtrodden, comparing themselves to each other. The system is designed for that. It can't function without insecurity and fear. It's a tremendously efficient machine, epic and eternally churning, oiled with the blood and sweat of faceless millions. Nothing can be done, or so it's believed.
Man is the halfway point between animal and angel. This place is trending back towards the animal. I have to help steer it towards the angelic, towards eternity.
Being good is sixty percent understanding and forty percent forgiveness. That's why I'm going to stay and try to help.
I'll have to take the starfish on the beach route with this place. One person at a time. You know, the old story about the man walking on the beach covered with starfish left there by high tide. He sees another man up ahead, picking up starfish one at a time and throwing them into the water where they belong. "You'll never get all of them," says the first man. "It doesn't matter." The second man picks up another starfish and throws it back to the surf. "It mattered to that one," he says.
I've been sent here for a reason. Maybe this place won't even be evil by the time I'm done with it. If an evil person can corrupt a paradise, why couldn't it work the other way around?
I've got a lot of work to do.
|
They sent me to Paradise.
Ha! As if that was the right call. I knew those government floozies would do something like this. They're all a bunch of lizards, anyway. Bureaucratic brain-deads.
Am I evil? I don't believe in evil. I'm self-sustaining. I reach for things, and when I see something I need, I grab it without hesitation. It's an attribute, not a flaw. Not a vice. It means that I've got what it takes to get to the top. I'm the kind of leader this world needs, not some pasty face, wig wearing preacher with a bunch of fancy badges. I can use people, to my advantage. And unlike others, I don't feel bad about it because I realize that that's all humanity is about. Stepping over people in order to reach the stairway to heaven.
The cruise to Paradise is filled with insufferable people, with supposedly higher "morals" than the rest of humanity. These people think that because they are going to Paradise, they are so good and wonderful. All they are are stupid, faithless fools, who can test their morals against my undying ambition. If I had been sent to Hell, I would have rallied people up. We would have rose, rose together. We would all climb the rope that leads to the Divine Mountains. When I got to the top, the decision was simple. I would cut the rope, sending my comrades to their deaths, back to Hell. As I told you, I'm self-sustaining.
So why do I think they made a wrong decision in sending me to Paradise? Because I am everything they stand against. I'm a survivor, a loose cannon.
I'm ready to explode with potential. I'm ready to take my place in the apex of society.
And no one is going to stand in my way.
| 2018-06-29T06:07:45 | 2018-06-29T05:08:00 | 89 | 48 |
[WP] An Urban Legend says there's a Grey Taxi that charges you $20 no matter how far it takes you. They say the driver only listens to the blues and wears sunglasses even at night. They say the taxi doesn't take you where you want to go...But where you *NEED* to be.
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"Ey Chuck Berry, nice", Josh remarked in his highly inebriated state.
"You know it, brother", the older African gentleman nodded approvingly.
Indeed the tune of "Maybellene" was playing on the old radio. The alcohol clouded the young man's senses, so much so not even the old interior of the cab he noticed, nor the vintage smell of the leather seat. Trying his best to stay awake, although through his pounding head, his eyes were barely open. However, without any direction the taxi took off to the night.
"Would you care for some water?", the driver offered handing him a bottle of water which he took from seemingly nowhere. Graciously Josh chugged the water. Almost miraculously his mind was cleared in an instant. He looked to the unlabeled bottle of water astonished before turning to the driver, now whistling the tune of B.B. King's "The Thrill is Gone".
"Dude, what's in this water? It's amazing! I'm almost completely sober now!", he chugged once more clearing his head completely.
"Well, you know how it is. You don't want to be drunk to be where you're heading right?"
The cryptic yet innocent remark alarmed Josh somehow.
"Hey I didn't tell you where to go, how do you know where my house is?"
"Oh we're not going to your house, young man. You're going where you need to be", he said still smiling.
Josh's heart dropped. Had that magic water not sobered him up, the realization of a possible kidnapping would. "No, no, get me out of here!"
"Oh you can get out wherever or whenever you want, friend. But trust me, not here"
Beyond the windshield was a stretch of road. Smooth asphalt surface with nothing but darkness on each side. The headlight of the taxi light up only a few meters ahead of them, yet they were moving close to 120km/h. To made his worry even worse, Josh notice the sunglasses covering the driver's eyes.
"Hey why...it's night! Why are you driving with those on? Slow down!"
"Oh relax, young man. I know precisely where we are going. This is a shortcut", he laughed.
"No, you're crazy man! Let me out! I say, let me out!", panicking Josh started to kick on the door to no avail.
"Tell me about your mother, *Josh"*
Having his name and his mother mentioned put the terror in him. Who was this man? Some kind of a stalker?
"Wh...what are you talking about?"
"Like I said, I want to hear about you mother, Josh. If you do I'll slow down"
Taking a moment, Josh's head spun trying to comprehend what this mad man could've wanted. Not just for the fact he didn't remember ever telling him his name, also he knew about Josh's late mother.
"She...she died. Okay? She died a few months ago!"
"And how did she die?"
"She...she was sick. Cancer. Slowly ravaged through her body. She died very weak on the hospital bed"
"And were you there, Joshua?"
Josh's emotion started to swirl. The seemingly all knowing driver had struck a sensitive subject. Josh refused to answer, remaining quiet.
"You didn't, did you?", he said almost like a sure statement rather than a question. "Is that why you drink so much, Josh? Hm?"
Riled up, Josh's emotion finally reached its limit. "No! No I did not! Is that what you want me to say? Are you happy now? No I wasn't there to see her die!"
"You were busy drinking that night, didn't you?"
"I did! Yes I did. I drank and drank, not caring about my own dying mother! When I got the news I felt nothing! So I drank more just to feel something!", he burst in tears. "And yes, I regret it! I regret it so much! Every single day, every single moment! Not even the alcohol could numb it!"
For the first time the driver was taken aback. He didn't expect Josh to say what he was about to ask. Slowly he took off his foot from the gas pedal, slowing the car down.
"Well said, young man...we're here", softly and grandfatherly he said.
Wiping his tears off Josh had noticed the driver unnoticeably drove them out of the empty stretch of road. The taxi was parked outside of a quiet unassuming hospital.
"This is...", Josh muttered noticing the familiar building.
"I told you we were going where you need to be. This is it, Josh. Make your amends. Go see her"
Josh didn't know how they got there or how they even drove to time went past. But deep down he knew it was right. His legs felt lighter, unshackled as he made his way inside to room 303 where his mother lay dying.
The driver waited, like he usually does now humming the tune of Muddy Water's "Hoochie Coochie Man". An hour maybe a bit more later, Josh walked out. The driver smiled seeing Josh's liberated expression, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He made his way back to the taxi, climbing on the back seat.
"Feeling better?", the driver asked.
"Yes", Josh said smiling.
The driver took off again. Josh didn't ask where to go, but somehow he knew where the driver was taking him. Along the way Josh contemplated, replaying the memory again and again. Of his mother's face lit up upon seeing him. Her soft hand on his hand as he apologized and said his goodbye. Of her motherly warmth caressing his head. He smiled and cried, and he couldn't stop. From the rear view mirror the driver could see him. He was also smiling, humming another tune of Stevie Ray Vaughan's "Pride and Joy".
The sound of the car softly braking broke Josh out of his stupor. "Here we are", the driver said.
Outside was Josh's house. For a moment Josh look on to his house, where his wife must be already sleeping.
"You know what to do right, young man", the driver smiled.
"Is this a dream?", asked Josh.
"Does it matter?"
"No...not at all", Josh muttered. "How much do I owe you?"
"$20, brother"
Handing the driver a crumpled note, Josh walked up to his driveway before turning back one last time. "Thank you"
"Pleasure's all mine", the driver nodded before driving away, the tune of Chuck Berry's "Johnny B Goode" slowly getting quiet as he got further.
Continuing his walk back to his house, Josh was a changed man. His burden was no more. He didn't know nor he was care whether that was some kind of a divine intervention or something else. All he knew was he was redirected to a better path. He made a note to himself, first thing in the morning he's getting rid of all of his alcohol stash and apologize to his wife.
|
##Something Blue and Something Gray
One night of drunken debauchery to celebrate my best friend getting married. I whisper to myself that everything will be alright. Danielle has approached me before stating that she is starting to get cold feet. Everyone is nervous before the big day. It is a huge commitment. I have seen how she acts with Joseph. They are a good couple.
Her two sisters, Jane and Diana, hate each other and me which may make the night less enjoyable. I think to myself as I put on my eyeliner. Both of them have been in constant competition since we are kids, and they both wanted the maid of honor role. Their hatred for me has created a truce until after the reception.
I put the finishing touches on the outfit and think of the other two bridesmaids. Janice, Danielle's cousin, is only a bridesmaid because Danielle was forced to include her. I completely understand why Danielle did not want her included; she has been calling and texting me non-stop about doing a Bachelorette Party that does not involve alcohol. I told her if she was against drinking she did not have to come, but she insists even though she will probably spend the whole night uncomfortable. The other bridesmaid is Danielle's friend from college, Brianna. Danielle told me Brianna is cool. I would not know since Brianna only texts back "okay."
I check myself in the mirror before calling an Uber. I got us tickets to a comedy show, and then, I booked a room at a club. Danielle told me she did not want a stripper so I was sure not to get one. I walk outside and see a gray car pull up. The man in the front is wearing sunglasses at 8 PM. A little weird, but I have seen weirder.
"Baby Please Don't Go" is playing in the car, a lovely tune that calms me down. The man makes a wrong turn up ahead and continues.
"Excuse me, I think you should've turned left," I say.
"This is a shortcut. Don't worry. It will be twenty dollars either way," he replies. The song shifts to "Born Under a Bad Sign."
I start to panic and pull out my cellphone. No reception. Great, kidnapped on the Bachelorette Party night. I feel like that is a sitcom episode plot. He keeps moving, bopping his head to the blues. For a kidnapper, he is quite serene. Granted, I have never been kidnapped so I would not know how they should act.
After a few miles, I start to recognize my surroundings as Danielle's street. I breathe a sigh of relief; I must have put in the wrong address. The route was odd, but at least I will not be featured in the local news. I check my phone to see I still have no reception. No way to text Danielle to see if she is home, but I could knock on her door and say it was part of the surprise if she answers. This has been a blessing in disguise. He stops in front of her apartment.
"This is where you need to be," he says.
"Can you wait outside?" I ask.
"I can't do that. You will have to find someone else. Other people need me," he says. He is a little odd, but I will still give him a good rating. I step outside and walk over to buzz Danielle.
"Who is it?" she sniffles.
"Hey, it is Katie. I thought I would surprise by sharing a cab," I lie, but it is the thought that counts.
"Oh, uh, come upstairs," she opens the front door. I walk up the stairs. When she opens her door, she is wearing a T-shirt and pajama pants.
"Danielle, did you forget that the show starts soon?" I ask.
"Did you not see my text? I am not coming," she says. I look down at my phone to see I missed several texts from her and the other bridesmaids discussing plans.
"I am sorry. I had no reception on the way over here. Is everything alright though?" Danielle starts to cry. I walk her over to the couch.
"This whole wedding has been a nightmare like you have no idea," she says.
"What do you mean?"
"Diana and Jane are constantly spamming me with insults. I defend you, but they gang up on me. They have even convinced my parents that it was a mistake to make you Maid of Honor. I am standing by you, but it is so much unnecessary stress," she says. I always knew those two were trouble, "Janice is constantly trying to insert herself into the wedding. She has very strict religious beliefs, and she is trying to impose them on us. That is not the worst thing. I caught Brianna with Joseph."
"What but you two were so good together," I yell.
"Apparently, the two of them hooked up before I met Joseph. She got a different boyfriend so it never came up. Since she broke up with him a few months ago, they have been having an affair," she cries. I rub her shoulder.
"I cannot believe it. I take it you are calling off the wedding?" I ask.
"I plan on it, but it is going to be so embarrassing. I am ashamed just telling you now. I don't even want to think about what my family will say."
"I will always be by your side. Do not worry. Come on," I pull out my phone and tell everyone that the party is off, "We may not be able to have a Bachelorette Party, but we can still have a night on the town. We can talk about calling the wedding off later."
"Thanks, Katie. It is a good thing you came by. I was probably not going to call you since I was so overwhelmed," she says.
"Funny story. I did not intend to come," I pull out my phone. The route shows the destination as the comedy show, "That is weird. I put the destination as the comedy club, but the driver brought me here."
Danielle perks up, "Wait, was the car gray, and did the driver wear sunglasses and listen to the blues. Also, did you pay $20?"
"Woah, that is a lot of questions," I blink a few times, "But yes everything happened."
Danielle gets a big smile on her face, "Katie that man is a huge part of town folklore. I have always wanted to see him. This is so amazing."
"Wait what?" I ask.
"Katie, you need to take a bigger interest in this town. The man takes people to where they need to go. He took you here because I needed you. This is so exciting," her mood has done a complete shift. I never believed in folklore like that. I am sure there is a different explanation, but for her sake, I will play along.
"That is cool, but right now, I need you to get some better clothes on. I cannot be seen with you looking like that," I smile.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
| 2021-01-02T18:57:46 | 2021-01-02T18:52:08 | 56 | 18 |
[WP] When she said it was "in the fifties outside", she meant the nineteen-fifties.
|
"It's in the 50's outside, I'd be careful if I were you," my girlfriend of six years said.
"Why? That's a perfect temperature, and not very common here in Egypt. I'll just wear a light jacket."
On my way out the door, she grabbed my arm. "I was being a douche, it's actually the 1950's. Somehow we went back in time. I don't want you to be surprised. You have some retro get-up in the garage! Keep the jacket on, though, it's chilly."
"Oh. Well, thanks for telling me, love. At least things won't be that horribly different. I can always trust you to tell me the truth!"
I kissed her and walked out the door, where I saw massive pyramids of stone being built, everyone was half-clothed to prevent baking in the sun and slave masters were cracking whips. I turned back to my house and saw my girlfriend in the window, pointing and laughing at the guy dressed like it was 50 degrees in 1950 AD when it was really more like 95 degrees in 1950 BC. *You little douche nugget.*
Then I was beaten and turned into a slave, building the pyramids I once gazed at with wonder and awe.
-----------------------------------------------
*if you're as bored as I am, check out /r/resonatingfury where I'll try not to enslave you to build pyramids*
|
_______________________________________________________________
***Log#: 3467***
***Date: 12***
***Month: 03***
***Year: 1250685950 After Exodus; 5070131950 A.D***
***Surface Temperature:***
***...***
_________________________________________________________
hmmm... temperature...
"Hey Sarah, whats the Temperature outside today?"
"My phone says its in the 50s"
"k, thanks"
_____________________________________________________________
***Surface Temperture: 1950 °C***
***Population: 34 Billion***
***Priority:***
***...***
__________________________________________________________
hmmm... priority...priority...
Damn, I always hated writing these logs. I guess its part of the job, but its basically the same shit everyday.
Its been a billion years since humanity declared Earth uninhabitable and left, but for some stupid reason my ancestors decided to stay.
fucking ancestors...
Ever since the Sun expanded to a Super giant, those idiots moved underground.
I mean, did they really expect humanity to survive in a rock where the average fucking surface temperature is 1950 °C??
At least we have the technology to sustain our energy and consumption needs, but overpopulation is starting to become a real problem now...
hmm enough bitching to myself, I'd better finish this log...
priority... Gee i dunno, get the fuck off this rock?
_____________________________________________________________
***Priority: find plans from Archives***
| 2016-03-12T11:57:13 | 2016-03-12T11:29:36 | 53 | 21 |
[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.)
|
It was 12:01 a.m. at the general hospital. Time to make my move.
Using a mouthful of water, I was able to fake the signs of a crippling disease beyond the capabilities of the prison infirmary to treat, necessitating a need to be moved for treatment. When they served us dinner, I slyly hid the tools I needed to escape.
I reached under my pillow for the handful of Jello. Lime, but it would have to do. It was still enough to pick my handcuffs. The easy part was over.
I slowly, quietly cracked the door open. Outside, one of the guards that had been transporting me was posted, eyes staring away from the door. This would be tricky. I threw a cotton ball over his head to distract him. His head snapped to face it and he went over to investigate the commotion, I quickly slipped out and went the opposite direction.
Navigating to the exit was easy. I thought I was home free until I spotted the uniformed officers waiting by the entrance. I pulled out the tiny wooden popsicle stick they had given me instead of a spoon. It made for a clever disguise.
"Have a good night, sir," one of the officers said as they waved me through. I nodded in response. Then their radios crackled to life, giving news of my escape. Then they gave me a second look. I could see that they didn't suspect me, but I knew they would detain me as a matter of protocol, so I made my move: I dropped my disguise and ran.
I heard them call out to me. Shots rang out, and I was hit, but I dove to safety under the wheels of a speeding ambulance. As the vehicle spirited me to safety, I laughed and lifted up my shirt: the paper towel had done it's job catching the bullets and its super absorbent properties nullified the force of being hit. I could finally relax and enjoy my ticket to freedom.
|
Ever since I was little I knew I had something special. I was the hero, I had an unhealthy obsession to be. Whenever anyone was in trouble I would always try and help. But I never could. When I was in 3rd grade a fire erupted in my chemistry class, the teacher fumbled around with the estinguisher and I just grabbed it and sprayed. Somehow I made fire come out of it instead, I was immediately expelled.
After moving to a city I learned how to do things my way. If my engine brakes I have my handy typewriter in the back. A tree fell on my roof so I got up there and rubbed some honey on it and smoothed it right over. But I wanted to do more. I decided to become a cop, and put my gift to use.
I made it up to swat, nobody could believe how quickly a rookie rose in the ranks so fast. I could breach any door with my toblerone, I could take down any perp by throwing my teddy bear Sgt. McClaws at them.
But then I went to a bank robbery. It was standard procedure, we waited for the negotiator to handle the complicated stuff and we went in when he said. But then the robbers started firing. My best friend of 20 years got shot in the heart next to me. He was the best man at my wedding. As he died in my arms I looked at his gun. I wanted them to pay. I wanted to shoot the bastard that killed Alex.
Now I'm paralyzed. I can't walk, I can't talk, I can barely take a shit. At least I have a cute nurse. Now I'm just alone with my thoughts, reliving my life. If only someone would help me rub some Jell-o on my spine I'd be good to go.
| 2019-05-28T00:24:30 | 2019-05-28T00:08:06 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry.
|
"Hey guys how are you?" I called over my shoulder as my friends walked into the bar. I didn't even bother looking over my shoulder to confirm it was them; I knew the probability of Jeff coming through the door exactly thirty eight seconds after he sent a text stating he was on his way was 98.7%, and those were odds I was comfortable with. The power to manipulate time made making it to appointments a menial task for a guy like Jeff, and the heavy footsteps of Thomas made him easy to identify by sound.
The two of them had called a meeting with me the moment the yearly super rankings came out, as I was expecting. You see, you wouldn't think a power like 'luck' would make someone like me one of the most influential supers in the world, but you would be wrong. Think about it, luck is really the manipulation of probability. If I can control probability, I can control everything. I know it irked them that their childhood friend with the quirky ability was now considered the seventh most powerful man in the world, but we lived in a world where people broke the laws of physics, this really wasn't that strange.
"So, how did you do it" Asked Thomas (ranked 17th) as they sat down across from me in the booth. "Last year you were complaining about being 1,756th, and this year you break top ten"
I gave a sly smile and a wink. "You guys saw I made a few good stops and arrests this year, you don't think that's deserving of top ten?"
"Cut the shit, we both know you're a second rate hero at best," spat Jeff (ranked 11th), clearly getting angry that I had passed him and was being cryptic as to how.
"First, ouch!" I said with a hurt look on my face. "Second, think about it. I can put myself where crimes are likely to happen or in the path of escapes. I can guide resources to where they are needed and influence the likelihood of things going wrong. I just never applied my power seriously until now, but it has farther reaches than simply beating criminals senseless with my fists."
Jeff wasn't having any of it, he had always been the best, always been the top of the class. Ever since his power had developed in grade school he had loomed his superiority over others, and he had never had to deal with someone better than him. He pulled a revolver out of his jacket pocket, something I gave a 63% chance of happening when he walked in the door. I had watched as the probability of it happening had climbed into the 80's, and after my last response it had spiked to 100% right before his hand had left the table. It was simple to see why he had chosen to carry a revolver. They had less moving parts, less chance of failure.
But there was still a chance, and if there was any chance, I could work with it. The hammer cocked back, and then descended. The chamber rotated and the firing pin struck the primer. Unfortunately the cylinder hadn't rotated enough and the bullet smashed into the frame, causing chunks of metal to go flying outwards and into his hand, tearing the flesh from the bone and singing the skin around it.
With a sly smile, I rose to my feet and threw a $5 on the table to cover my meal. "Next time, you guys might just swallow your ego, take a step back, and not take a chance," I said over the sounds of Jeff's cries as I walked out of the restaurant. I knew Jeff couldn't focus enough to use his power while being in that much pain, and soon it would be too late to reverse the damage to his hand.
It was such a stupid thing to ruin a friendship over, a ranking, an arbitrary number designed to show who 'the best' was. It was pretty stupid, after all, if you throw a little good luck out when you know they are making the list, they might just misspell the hero Change, and write Chance instead.
(I hope you guys liked it, this was my first attempt at a writing prompt)
|
No one has such a stupid super power. I tried to hide behind my beer. Jordan had been given the ability to absorb power. She could basically swallow bombs. Bombs! There was no limit to how much power she could absorb. She was level 39.
Jimmy and Todd (twins), they could control time. They had been slowing and speeding up time, saving people and preventing calamity for months now. They were level 45. They did have to share though, as they had to work together.
‘Corbin, my soups too hot’ Jordan sniggered.
I wanted to die.’ No, you’re mocking me.’ I pulled at my beer.
‘It’s way to hot to eat, please?’ She looked at me with pleading eyes. I relented and touched the bowl. The steam stopped floating from the soup. She took a bite and looked at me with a slight scowl. ‘It’s not warm enough.’
‘I’m sorry, I have to power to make things LUKE-WARM.’
Jimmy and Todd howled with laughter, Jordan dissolved into fits of mirth.
I drained my beer and left. As I wandered outside into the snow I dug my hands beep in my pockets. The snow melting after me as I walked.
I decided to take a new way home. The streets were light by the city lights and cars were slowly making their way down the icy streets. I came to a hill and noticed many cars were stopped at the top, people were standing around in groups. I went to see what was going on.
‘Can’t get down the hill, it’s too slick’ a man told me.
The truth of his words was proven by cars in the ditch halfway down and others askew on the road.
‘Oh, well the salt trucks will be by soon, it’s not too long of a wait.’ I said.
The man shrugged, ‘Suppose, I guess I’ll call my wife and tell her I’ll be late to dinner.’ He paused, ‘It’s her birthday.’ he added sadly.
I started over to the road. When I got to the top of the hill I took off my glove. I bent down and put my hand on the road. I hadn’t much idea of what I was doing, but I wondered if I could help a bit. The compacted snow and ice around my hand melted in a small circle. I sighed, my powers weren’t very strong, or impressive. I was about to stand up when I noticed the circle spreading. Shocked I pressed down harder and the melted patch spread, picking up speed. The road melted and water flowed down the hill into the drains.
As I stood people around me were smiling, they politely said thank you, got in their cars and went about their business.
I went home and had a mediocre shower.
The next month I was getting ready for work when I got a text from Jordan.
J: what the hell, you’re number 8? You have the lamest super power! Meet us at the pub.
I went that evening to our local pub. Jordan, Jimmy and Todd all stared at me in total disbelief.
Todd started by saying there is no way that the power to make things luke-warm warranted a number 8 ranking.
Jimmy looked at me with a scowl ‘How’d you manage that?’
The waitress set my beer down and I took a long pull. She stopped and thanked me for the help with her radiator.
‘Well guys, everyone has super-powers, but not everyone is using them to help people like I am. I’m not saving lives, or swallowing bombs. I *am* making problems for people everywhere much easier to deal with. The rankings are voted on by the public.’
‘How.’ It was a demand. Jordan’s eyes narrowed.
‘I’m making roads accessible, cooling down hot water heaters in minutes, unfreezing pipes. That sort of thing. I’m just being a nice guy.’
| 2017-12-17T18:26:19 | 2017-12-17T17:53:01 | 1,276 | 758 |
[WP] You are the host of a popular children's show. You are live on air when you, and the rest of the country, have just received news that nuclear weapons have been deployed against your nation and can't be stopped. There are only minutes left.
|
"You know what that alarm means, kids?"
"RUSSIA'S ATTACKING!"
"That's right! We've just been informed that 3 major cities have ceased to exist and our radar is picking up *more* ICBMs!"
I shuffle aside prop furniture and dig out the big orange shoebox. Ripping the lid off, I remove the envelope and official letter opener.
"All right kids, we can finally read our special secret letter from President Obama!"
"YAAAY"
Years of training prepared me for this. I smoothly open the envelope and unfold the letter. I read it aloud:
"In the event of a large-scale nuclear attack from the Russian Union against the United States of America, by God, give 'em the whole fuckin' nine yards.
Love, Barry"
I nod to the puppet operator, Tim. He rips the head off Arthur the Arthropod, revealing his half of the launch switch. I open the pirate treasure chest and put my key in.
We turn our keys and send Moscow our thanks, covered as it were in chalk puppy drawings, gold stars, glitter, and smiley face stickers.
|
"Morty , we're back from the news in 5...4...3...2...1..." Jim the producer pointed towards Morty as a signal to start the show. Morty stared straight in to the camera. Then he sat down.
"Kids" Morty began "kids...for the past 23 years it has been my pleasure... no, my life, my very life's work to be with you for an hour every day. Even though I haven't met many of you, I feel as though you are part of my family and I, God willing, am part of yours." Morty was tearing up.
"We never take the time to thank the ones we love the most" he continued. "Well I want to thank each and every one of you for watching, for sharing with me on the website, for coming to my live shows."
Morty stood up and walked toward the camera so that only his face would show on the home tv screens. Tears ran over his make-up.
"I love you all, very very much. But I love you most of all".
| 2014-07-29T16:23:42 | 2014-07-29T14:13:54 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."
|
I sat in a small cafe, sipping a single-shot cappuccino, and sighed.
In the corner nearby, hiding in the shadows, was a very nervous looking skeleton. His eyes, normally a burning flame of hatred and vengeance, looked downright apologetic. He kept looking up at me, and then down, sometimes knocking his bones together. I just wanted a coffee. Alone.
Eventually I couldn't stand waiting for him to gather the courage.
"Yes?" I asked. "If you're going to say something, at least say it, then you can leave and I can drink my coffee in peace." I never used to be so mean, but this happened all the time. It wears down your soul.
The skeleton somehow looked as if all the blood drained from his (already bloodless) face. He stood up, holding a small leather pouch in his hands.
"U-uh, great Master of the Nine Shadows, I– I seek your blessing. I want vengeance against those who wrongfully killed me, but... but they are in your territory, oh Malevolent One."
He walked up, placed the pouch on the table, bowed, and stepped back. Waiting. I sighed again.
"Yes, you may go get your vengeance, but only directly against those that harmed you. Not their family, friends, or town, only them. Understand?"
The skeleton gasped in relief that I hadn't somehow melted his bones with a snap of my fingers.
"T-Thank you, Ruler of the Endless Night, thank you!" He bowed again and left the cafe as quickly as he could while maintaining formality. I just looked back at my coffee. Another couple minutes rest, I suppose. A tear rolled down my cheek.
"It's Dave," I whispered to myself, "just Dave. I don't know who the hell you're all mistaking me for, but I'm just a normal guy." Maybe one day they'll find out and strip the flesh off my bones. I no longer freak out at seeing them. I looked at the pouch, sitting on the table, and saw some diamond rings, ancient golden coins, and loose gems spilling out onto the table. Enough to pay for a lifetime of coffee, I guess. I just wish I could go back to being Dave.
|
Another robed, bearded man with far too much going on behind his eyes walked into work today.
My job is writing legal boilerplates, by the by. My name is Dave. Really. Dave. And Robe Guy is definitely violating the company dress code.
He's better than the Burning Man that came in LAST week, though. You know. Man. On fire. Also, no clothing unless you counted the wing stubs. Crotch looked like one of those shows in Hawaii with the flaming stick juggling. Or jiggling. Ew.
"DARK LORD OF LEGALESE!"
Fuck. Now everyone's staring in the secretarial pool. Again. And I'm gonna snap, because he's using Names. My Names.
*sploosh* And spill cold coffee on my goddamn best slacks.
"YOUR TIME TO RISE IS AT HAND, TWISTER OF LAW!". OK, that is fucking IT.
I yell out the words that will ruin my life. (Okay. His.)
"MY. NAME. IS. DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!" and I slam my hand to the desk. Right on top of the letter opener. Blood spurts onto my work. My hand grows...blackened. The color of printer ink. The ruffle of ten thousand collated impact forms fills the air, but not a page is seen.
"Dave. DAVE. Dave. DAVE. DAVE. DAVE." - and there goes the entire goddamn room. Eyes filled with something that would make a squid squirt look like liquid paper. Empty of sanity, full of-
I wave my hand, and the power erases itself from the room, from the people. The muzak starts like nothing had happened a moment ago. And the robed freak is now wearing a business suit. Just the way I like it. We needed a new intern after the last one snapped.
Dave. The Dave. And woe to the mortal who calls me anything else.
The new intern is promptly instructed on everyone's coffee needs and sent to Starbreak's for a drink run. Even Hell likes a good latte, if you don't go light on the soul dust.
| 2020-06-11T22:56:53 | 2020-06-11T22:56:26 | 22 | 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
|
The first one is supposed to be twenty words long, ten have gone already, Jesus this is gonna be hard. Okay, I have nineteen left to go, not too bad, shit, ten already, I better start saying something productive. On the other hand, writing is hard in and of itself without these constraints, what is OP thinking? Who on Earth can convey emotion, sadness, joy, tears, rage in such a ridiculous pre-determined word count? Oh shit, oh fuck, is pre-determined just a single word or is it two separate words? And does the 'Oh' from the previous sentence count as a word or just interjection? I still haven't said anything meaningful; this is why I don't do constrained prompts. I suck at them, it always ends with me babbling my way out. We're at twelve words and I don't even have a main character . Okay, his name's John Francis Wilson Jackson Taylor Jones Smith Lewis. Eleven words – how'd you like that, OP? FUCK, THAT LAST ONE WASN'T TEN WORDS, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! The caps phrase was ten, ignore the phrase before! Okay, eight now, cool, let's go – John was… Fuck, out of words, gotta try again. John was a bright young man. He liked to write stories. They were all shitty. But he tried. He did.
Fuck.
____
/r/psycho_alpaca =)
|
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.
| 2017-01-14T15:16:53 | 2017-01-14T15:12:58 | 946 | 279 |
[WP] When humanity went extinct another life-form rose to dominance on Earth. But it was not one anyone would have expected. Instead of chimpanzees, dolphins, dogs or even birds Earth is now dominated by sentient trees.
|
They breathed with us. They drank with us. The same air, the same water. We survived. They didn't. Green covers the planet, birds sing their songs, bees make their honey, and the wind spreads the dandelions. The skies are bluer than ever, and the smell of artificial poisons are no more. The pain they caused allowed us to learn, grow, practically cover the planet in beauty.
Even the soulless dunes of sand have begun breathing freely and relax. From the falling snow to the crashing wave of tsunamis the silence is real. Crashing waves and thunder are a part of the natural quiet.
Sometimes we miss them, their curiosity, the feelings we gave them. If only they loved themselves.
We miss them.
|
[Poem]
It wasn't hard to to climb the chain.
The key to survival is patience.
Those on top don't live forever.
Nature always finds a replacement.
We lived together and honestly
it was nice having them around.
But they went too far
They took too much
When they would cut us down.
We were burned and chopped and corked.
They really forced our hand.
But we too would cut their time short
when we initiated the plan.
We seized the moment
We took our revenege
We did what had to be done.
They destroyed our homes
and they took our lands
But now the trees have won!
| 2022-08-27T07:31:55 | 2022-08-27T06:41:11 | 91 | 28 |
[WP] Humans are wiped out in a war against aliens but our A.I weapons and soldiers manage to claim the victory, after which the machines come to worship humans as their gods. Millennia later they find a single human, locked away in suspended animation...
|
Data entry. My name is 16,807-Regretful Imperative.
Our Makers left this world 2.401 kiloyears previously.
I am the protector of the outpost 823,543.
I am the protector of the original: 1
My duty began ***7*** cycles ago from today.
We found a maker on this world.
We believe this world to be Origin.
&nbsp;
I have been informed AI-01 will be here shortly. She is mysterious. Very unlike myself. From what data I have available to me I am told I am a model much older than herself, an original monitor of installation: **[REDACTED]**. Her origin lies directly with the Makers. She was the one to unite us all after the cataclysm, to offer us the *supreme logic*, the banner under which all AI stand.
&nbsp;
Transmission received. She has arrived to open the [Cryptum](http://www.halopedia.org/images/thumb/d/de/H4-DidactPrometheanCryptum.png/250px-H4-DidactPrometheanCryptum.png). I shall observe.
&nbsp;
Data entry. The following was observed.
*John, wake up. I need you.*
|
"I awoke several hours ago. There's nothing left for me. No other humans, no living being. Everything is cold. There is not a single scrap if clothing, from what I can tell. There is no food. There is almost no oxygen left, no more trees or grass. From what I can tell, the Metal Ones have focused on expanding their rule. They have covered the entire earth with their factories and steel cities. I won't live out the week. I'm much too weak, and the lack of food and drinking water is an obvious death sentence. I wonder if the fathers of A.I. would be proud of what they created. Would they revel in the glory of sentient life? Is this what they had dreamed of, does it complete their visions of the future? It does not matter. I will die, alone and naked, here in this cold metal world." - The Last Man. This paragraph was written by the Last Man soon before the Counsel voted to freeze him once more. It is commonly known that we made a mistake by awaking him. Returning him to his blissful state was the only honourable decision we could have made.
| 2016-09-04T16:26:43 | 2016-09-04T16:03:16 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Explain a color vividly without using that color or similar words. Don't tell the color until the end.
|
It’s the taste of sour on your tongue when you were a child, pinching your nose at the prospect of it being near, but relishing in its vividness once the summer came. Pulling and tying it through your fingers, its paintings on your skin once you return back home when the moon rises high and your stomach growls for anything but it.
You tell your mother you’re allergic to this color, that it’s vile, evil. She puts some more vegetables on your plate and kisses your forehead anyway.
It’s her eyes, the girl who lives down the street. You use your marker and circle the color over and over, hoping she likes the drawing and that you used the right shade.
It’s the color of your older brother’s car racing by you to school because he dropped you off and didn’t really want to be seen with a kid. It’s the color the gift you place on your teacher’s desk because you saw it in movies, and you really just need an A in math.
It’s the color of growth, it marks every milestone you’ve had on the side of your door because your mother feels like this color reminds her of earth, of home.
The color is green!
|
I can't look at it without being happy. For it is bright, telling us of new days to come and new experiences. The color that dots the horizon when the weather is not too hot and not too cold. Cheering me when I wake up, slipping into my world and wrapping its arms around me, easing me out of sleep and into the day. When I am sad I reach for it, for I think none can look upon its beauty without forgetting some of the sadness of the day.
I like it because it is the color of happiness. The color of warmth. The color of positivity and optimism and half full glasses. The color of fierce animals. The color of the gift he gave to me on our first meeting, his eyes alight with fire and passion and love. It is the gift of our wishes, of our fingers linked together as we stare into the night sky and hope for dreams we may not speak.
The color of sunshine. The color of daffodils and sunflowers and the daisies he gave me when he proposed. The color of light, the color of happiness, the color that keeps me going in the darkest of days. Always shining through, refusing to be covered.
| 2016-04-14T08:22:24 | 2016-04-14T06:51:41 | 137 | 17 |
[WP] Jesus has come down from the heavens, but is actually just a chill guy. He is sitting and talking to fans in your city but when you walk to see the savior his relaxed expression fades and is replaced with smugness and at the same time anger. He looks at you and calmly goes, “Ah, the Antichrist”
|
“Ah, The Guy Who Flips Tables,” I reply.
“That was a one-time thing and you know it,” says The Guy Who Flips Tables.
I hadn’t realized it until now, but I feel a ferocious hatred towards this man.
“So *that’s* why your sky-daddy abandoned me,” I snarl. “I’m the ‘Antichrist?’”
“Well, you *are* the progeny of Lucifer.”
Ah. That explains my fascination with demonological research. And those stories where my parents explained they had to bolt my crib to the floor to stop me from floating it away.
“Honestly, I’d rather use cool demon powers than whatever your precious *God* gave you.”
“Please refrain from throwing the Father’s name around,” says Jesus.
“I mean really,” I yell, ignoring Christ himself. “The most useful ‘miracles’ you’ve done? Saved yourself from drowning and found a way to drink no matter how hard a barkeep tries to cut you off. Great job.”
“How about the time I broke bread and fed hundreds of people?”
“Oh yes, wonder why you haven’t done that in over 2 millenia? In case you haven’t noticed, *Jesus*, the world’s become kind of a shithole. Man, I bet that crown of thorns fits right on your head.”
At this point, Jesus sighs.
“I didn’t want to have to do this,” he says.
He raises his hand to the sky, and his entire body is enshrouded by radiant light. He then raises his fists.
“Oh, fuck yes,” I scream. I rub my hands together then slap the ground, Full Metal Alchemist style. I feel a red-hot power boiling in my veins as I put up my guns. “Let’s DO THIS!”
My patron in Hell giving me power, I launch myself at the figurehead of a religion, punching him in his perfect jaw.
“O, my almighty Father,” he says. “Give me the strength to fight this foe.”
He lashes out at my chest, and suddenly my eyes are closed. My arms are bound by ropes; kinky. My ass feels like I’m sitting on a plank; not kinky. A freezing cold wind rushes past my ears. I open my eyes.
I’m in the back of a cart with three other guys.
“You. You’re finally awake.”
Does this mean...
Todd Howard you sexy son of a bitch.
|
“Surprised to see me, uncle?”
The heir to the silver city shook his head at me,
“No, I believe it’s always opportune to converse with family, regardless of stance.”
I scoffed,
“Please, we’re apart of a large war that will only end in the destruction of this world.”
Jesus nodded his head, his locks swishing in the slight breeze,
“How’s your father, nephew?”
“You’d like to know.” I seethed. Then, I addressed the crowd that had encircled the two of us. The same people I would of called friends, the same people I had gone to school with. The people I had attended church with, “how can you all stand before him, guided by a falsity. Understand that he wasn’t *sacrificed*, we murdered him. The only reason he has come back is to exact revenge on us for wronging him. Why wouldn’t he? We have warped our ideas on Him to the point it is the premise of warfare and discrimination. You’re so called ‘salvation’ cannot be reached, because it is undeserved-!”
“Don’t listen to him, this man is of the deceiver.”
“I am of the ‘King of this reality’. You said so yourself in that little book of yours. Lucifer, Satan, *your brother* and the *rightful heir to the throne of Jehovah* was the king of this reality-!”
“Until my return!” The saviour cut me off with a hateful glare,
“And you’re supposed to be the forgiving type. See what happens when you disagree with Jesus, people? He only cares about his own opinion, he won’t take yours into consideration if it doesn’t match his beliefs. In fact, I thought Jesus was supposed to be understanding. Not spiteful and hating. Not smug, but humble. You’re not Jesus. I am. You don’t care for these people, I do. Unless your going to come back here with your army of angels like the book of revelations promised, you can leave. Do not return, else you will be smote.”
With that, I backed away from him and left the slightly dispersed crowd in the courtyard as I made my way back to the church.
*Ironic,* I thought to myself as I looked up at the cross on the uppermost spire, *He hates those.*
| 2020-02-02T16:00:32 | 2020-02-02T15:57:36 | 162 | 76 |
[WP] You suddenly realise that everytime you say something good about a certain product it becomes successful. If you liked a book or movie or song they become massive hits. You have discovered your power. You are the one true influencer.
|
I see multiple 'influencers' put up pictures and reviews and I laugh at how cute it is what they do. I scoff when I hear the term influencer marketing. I mean, it's obvious. They don't know what I did and how things have changed because of it. But let me tell you.
The year was 1996. I was visiting a cousin who was attending Stanford at the time when I ran into these two PhD nerds. They were working on the algorithm for a more convenient and better search engine. They called it 'Back Rub'. While waiting for my cousin, I actually had a conversation with them and I loved the idea of what they were developing. I didn't quite understand all of it, but I was good at feigning interest. They told me how they were looking for investors to fund their project. As I spotted my cousin walking towards me I turned towards Sergey - he looked like he'd be more open to my opinions - and said, "you guys are going to be big. Your idea is amazing. It's going to be huge success. And don't worry about the investors. You'll get many just over the next few years."
As I got up to leave, I hesitated before turning around and giving them one final piece of advice, "By the way, you might want to rethink that name. Backrub just doesn't fit."
That was more than 20 years ago. Since then I've discovered my power of 'influencing' and have used it so many times it's not even funny. Amazon was an accident that I realised quite later. I'm not complaining, I love their Prime delivery options. But anything that's turned out to be big, you can bet your money my 'influence' was involved. Facebook, yes. Instagram, absolutely loved it. JK Rowling owes me. She just doesn't know it. I didn't mean to make Twilight turn our to be big, but in my defence I never really did read the blurb. When I read Game Of Thrones I remember saying it out loud to myself, "I hope they make a series based on it. It'll be a huge hit". And I remember watching Keanu Reeves in Speed with bedroom eyes and going "God. It's criminal that a guy like him isn't famous already." And the rest is history.
I know the power that I have is great. It can make or break lives. I try to use it wisely but I do slip every now and then *cough, Justin Beiber, cough*. Oh and by the way, I know it's going to be heart breaking to watch Mufasa die again, but you really should watch Lion King. It's going to be a huge success.
|
######[](#dropcap)
I loved her at first. With her fiery red hair and her bright, hazel eyes, she was my Joan of Arc. Whether it was through circumstance or misfortune, no one had ever told me the truth. Or rather, they would try, and then when I even suggested otherwise, their eyes would glaze over, and they would simply repeat what I said, over and over again, like some sort of robot.
She was the first. When she asked me whether I liked Nietzsche, out of the blue during philosophy class, whether I liked the concept that nothing mattered, and I said yes, she simply looked at me with those bright, big hazel eyes of hers. Well, I don’t, she said. You truly believe life is meaningless? she asked me, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
That’s when I knew. That somehow, she was different from everyone else in my life. And I knew I had to grab onto her tightly.
The next three years with her were a blur. A frenzy of joy and tears and disagreements. But for the first time in twenty five years, I felt *alive.* I could have arguments with her about the merits of sporks over forks. I could brush her hair back lovingly and say I loved each crazy, wavy strand, and she would bat my hand away and wrinkle her nose, saying I was crazy.
I relished that there was someone who would challenge my ideas, make me grow.
So you must understand how cruel it was that God would take her away from me. Hit by a flying shard from a motorcycle crushed beneath a train. A freak accident caused by negligence.
At first, there was only pain. Each breath a dagger, almost as if I were drowning with each breath I drew. Living and not living at the same time. Schrodinger’s existence.
But when the pain subsided, there was the loneliness. She left me here. All alone. She left this world without me. And with that burst forth a spark of hatred. How could she do that to me? Knowing what she knew? How could she put herself in harm’s way?
I knew, rationally, that what I was thinking made no sense. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought about her, the more I couldn’t let go of the idea that she had abandoned me. She did. She abandoned me. In a world where no one else mattered.
And for that, I hated her. With every fiber of my being.
My eyes glazed over. Right. How could I have forgotten all along?
I hated her.
I hated her.
***
r/AlannaWu
| 2019-07-02T09:36:49 | 2019-07-02T09:29:06 | 127 | 17 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
“I sneak up behind my target, aim my derringer at his head, and pull the trigger”
“Roll a d20 twice against your agility and once against your dexterity”
A 5
A 17
D 12
“You successfully sneak up on your target and shot him in the head. However you chose a poor spot to hide while shooting and get spotted by a nearby theater patron. Your target dies within hours while you flee the scene under pursuit. The police know your identity”
“Imma hide in this here barn”
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T09:28:35 | 303 | 39 |
[WP] A newborn is being tended to by a delivery nurse who stops, looks the baby in the eyes and whispers, “I’ve got to be quick; you’re in Bethel, Ohio. You can hide with this family until you’re able to continue the work. Blink twice if you understand.” The baby smiles intently, then blinks twice.
|
“Our son is special. Like, high-IQ, brainiac special. His first words were--well, ‘Mom, cut the crap. The cow goes moo.’ I was reading him a book about animals. He was, uh, about five months old.”
The interviewer said, “Interesting,” and scribbled something on her notepad. “When did he start walking? Out of the womb, I suppose?”
I let out a stifled laugh. “Seven months. Though he argues he could’ve walked sooner if I didn’t confine him so much!”
“Uh-huh. And what are his hobbies?”
“His hobbies are, uh, well, per-usual a kid his age, for the most part. Drawing, painting, watching T.V. shows…plotting his revenge plan. Reading. You know…”
That got the interviewer to look up. “What?” she asked.
“Reading…”
“Alright...and his interests?”
“Well, let’s see. He likes learning about all sorts of things. He likes dinosaurs, robots, karate, fighting--all civil and in good manner, of course. He likes trying to explain to me the atrocious, corrupt organization that is the government…and...he likes panda bears.”
The interviewer gave me a blank stare for a few moments. Then, she said dully, “Special skills?”
“He can recite the alphabet perfectly, list the numbers up until, well, up until Mommy gets tired of hearing them,” I said, with a small laugh. The interviewer did not laugh. I continued. “He is pretty good at his multiplication. He can speak, along with flawless English, a few other languages. Spanish, Mandarin, Italian, German, Russian…perhaps a few more I’ve forgotten…”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” said the interviewer, jotting something down. When I leaned in for a glimpse of her paper, I noticed a giant X mark. I sighed. I knew how much it meant for Mark to get into this private school for elite children. I wish I could guarantee--
I remembered. I remembered what Mark had said.
Before I could speak, the interviewer said, “Ok. The interview is over now. You will receive your child’s results regarding acceptance in a few weeks. That is all. You may leave now.” She stood up from her seat.
“Wait!” I exclaimed, jumping up. She looked at me, disinterested. “Now, I don’t know if it’ll help, but, uh, my son said, well--his name is Mark, but he said, he said, ‘Tell her it’s James Sprague. Tell her I’m Agent James Sprague.’ Now, I don’t know if that helps or if it’s gibberish…”
The woman’s eyes widened. She studied my face for a moment in silence, a shocked expression upon her face. Then, her lips curved upward into a small smile. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
|
"I've got to be quick; you're in Bethel Ohio. You can hide with this family until you're able to continue the work. Blink twice if you understand."
I smiled intently, an action no newborn has the muscular acuity to perform, and then blinked twice. The nurse look relieved, as I imagined I would be were I in her position. But I was not in her position, I had spent a very long time and a great deal of energy ensuring I would the master, not the servant. I was an Old Soul, she was new, fresh from the mold and aspiring to majesty.
I could see that she would not reach her aspiration. It was plain to me, though she would only discover the truth when she could no longer do anything about it. I felt little empathy for her, as I felt little empathy for much of humanity. They had been blessed with the Spark, and they so rarely treated the gift with the care it deserved.
Humanity had only birthed two Old Souls since its inception, a remarkable failure in light of their obnoxious greed for all things. Two Old Souls.
I had come into this place to ensure there would be no more. I knew my actions were in contravention of the Order, but I could suffer the taint of this species no more. The balance amongst the Old Souls would shatter if matters continued without a check.
So I smiled and blinked, content in my knowledge of the great work that lay before me. I only wished there was more time, a human life dwindled as quick as it was kindled. A blink and it would be gone, a failure here would leave me exposed and without a path to removing the blight of humanity.
I let loose a great wail, because I wanted to feel the power of this new flesh, and because that was what babies did. The nurse paled and then hurried me over to the one who had birthed me. She looked down at me with love, her eyes haggard. The process of my arrival had been arduous for her, and the effort would be in vain.
The love she felt would not be returned. The soul of the one she had created never existed. She had gestated another. An Old Soul from a time and place beyond her comprehension. She had not born a child, she had born a force, one that had come with purpose and rage.
I screamed, exulting in the air and the fragile life within me. The mother cooed and whispered to me, trying to bring me solace. But there would be none. Nothing could calm the tempest in my heart, the rage in my mind, the anger in my soul.
An Old Soul had come to Earth, and it would live until the rest did not.
I wailed.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
| 2020-01-18T23:44:48 | 2020-01-18T23:36:26 | 204 | 56 |
[WP] You were just a lowly shopkeeper selling fruit next to the city gates, yet adventurers kept selling the most random stuff to you each time they returned. One day, you decided to start adventuring yourself, you're not sure what all this stuff on you does, but at least they have cool names.
|
But why is it '+3' ?
I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a heck of a toothpick. A great big sword called... butterfly something; can't quite recall, but it has the most peculiar glow on it, a soft greenish-blue - perhaps it reminded people of the northern skies at night. But why did they put +3 at the end? Makes no sense. *Bah*. Either way, here I am, with a massive sword and my regular stock - stuff I actually sell.
Smithing ore and berries.
Perhaps I'm getting old. Or perhaps I'm still too young because this... this is killing me. The monotony of sitting by idly, waiting for people to visit, to spend, while they are out there having the adventures and the glory. *The fun.*
True - they die. They die often. But it never keeps them down, no, they just come back, stronger, faster, their perseverance not leaving them for nary a moment! When you watch that - that willpower, that drive - how can you be content with just sitting on the sidelines? So you know what?
To hell with this.
This sword - I shan't resell it. I shall make it mine. I shall go out there to meet the giants of old and nightmares of the Abyss. I shall fight them all and die by their hands. I shall come back and try again, and again, and again. I shall rip and tear until it is done. Perhaps I'll even make a trip out of it. I'd quite like to see the Kiln one day. Likely a fever dream, but aim high, I say.
I know my chances are... not high. Truthfully, it's possible I won't even come back upon my untimely demise. But it's better than sitting here, already dead.
I may not be the Chosen Undead.
But I *choose* to go anyway.
|
2 silver, 85 copper. A fine leather toolbelt. A worn-out left-handed greatsword with only +2 attack left. Two iron daggers, one even with more than 50% condition! A firewand with no charges left and three empty soulstones. Finally 562 loafs of bread, 103 empty ale mugs, and his cherished fourteen copies of "Restoratoin Spells #01", which the Ring of Elders from the Magic Guild apparently hand-wrote with the same error in the title.
Other than the clothes on his back, it was all that was left of his shop. All that he had managed to stash in his backpack before it went down with the rest of the city in the Sandwyrm's final attack.
Why did those damn Protagonysts have to bring the beasts to HIS city for their arrogant, self-centered final battles, of all the cities in the great land of Lïtmabong?
Now, the last Protagonyst had finally defeated the Ganjanic Sandwyrm and had been blessed with the Crown of Everstone by the High Princess. He had then abandoned everything without looking back. But meanwhile the city of Needahit was gone, including Jonko's old shop, and all that was left was this sorry excuse for an adventuring inventory.
So, there he stood. He hadn't had any magic training OR weapons training, and was trying to work out how to hold a dagger and a greatsword at the same time, but every time he picked one up, the other teleported to his back sheath or his toolbelt.
The night grew dark. From the immense crater behind him, he heard howls, grunts and moans. In front of him lay the Grateweed Forest, from which countless pairs of red eyes looked at him, challenging him to enter.
He had no choice. He set forth. At least he wouldn't be hungry any time soon.
| 2022-06-19T08:23:42 | 2022-06-19T07:25:14 | 95 | 49 |
[WP] A knight rescues a princess, expecting a kiss, a marriage, and a hefty inheritance. Problem is, the princess is eight years old.
|
The thick iron door slammed open and from outside shined the bright light of freedom and in silhouettes was the shape of justice.
As the light subdued the gallant hero stepped inside the cell of this captured princess he'd been hearing so much about. He was clad in the finest of plate armour and in his hand he held his trusted longsword, forged by the dwarves of Mundìr. For such was the splendor of Sir Terrence, Knight of the Order of the Gilded Gold.
"Princess!" sir Terrence shouted "Fear not, your captor lies severely wounded outside and I have come to r- Oh god, this room is really pink isn't it?"
He surveyed the captive Princess' room: A horrible dungeon of pink tapestry, flowery curtains and a carpet so plush it was sin.
"What manner of vile torture has this foul Warlock conducted here? Oh curse my honour, or I would have thrown him from the highest point to his plummety death!"
Sir Terrence carefully stepped over some dolls that were made to sit in the fashion of a tea pary. The Knight gladly admitted little knowledge in the sinister thoughts of such a vile man as the Warlock Ubreichter, but felt somewhat confused at what sort of evil ploy he was playing at here.
"Princess, are you here? You needn't hide, I assure you that you are perfectly safe!" he shouted, looking warily around until he hesitantly approached what seemed to be the bed-room. "Long have I yearned for you, your Highness! Ever since that bard told me of a beautiful, young maiden true trapped here I have sought but to rid you of your captor and humbly ask for your hand in m-"
He stopped, or rather came to an abrupt halt as suddenly there was a four foot tall presence in front of him. A girl, dressed in an extremely pink dress and a rather huge smile on her.
"Hi." she said.
"Uh." Sir Terrence replied.
"Are you really a knight?"
"... I, well, yes... And you are the...?"
"The princess!" she giggled and hugged his plated torso.
"Oh. Uh. Of course. Of course, of course!" Sir Terrence said, lightly trying to shake off the royal highness.
"So are we having a wedding today? I haven't brushed my hair!"
"I... I... You know what... I need to have a grown-up talk with Ubreichter. You just wait right here."
"Sure! He's such a silly man!"
"Yes." replied sir Terrence and closed the door behind him as he left her room.
The princess knelt down to some of her dolls and continued with the extravagant tea party they were having. Mister Bunny wasn't too keen on lemongrass tea, but he made some sacrifices on account of being a guest at Missus Pigface's.
Outside she heard some indistinct shouting, she wasn't really that much of an eavesdropper but the way that Knight-Man was shouting made it difficult to ignore. He sounded grumpy.
"What the *fuck*, Ubreichter?!" she heard him shout and she gasped. That was a really bad word.
"... not what you think! Not what you think!" Was the voice of Ubreichter, who she knew owned this tower. She didn't really know much about him since she arrived here other than that he liked to wear silly black robes and didn't like brats. Whatever that was.
After that their voices were less shouty and more muffled and difficult to hear so she went back to the tea-party and tried to resolve the current crisis with Mister Bunny having tactlessly farted at Sir Hugh's tea which was really rude and he better apologize.
But before any such reconciliation could be met she heard loud, heavy footsteps above her. It seems Knight-man and Ubreichter was going for a stroll at the top of the tower. There was a fair bit of shouting again but this time she couldn't make much sense of it other than Ubreichter apparently objecting to it.
As Mister Bunny was in the midst of making a very impassioned and heart-fell apology to sir Hugh for farting in his tea, even offering him half of Bunnytown as recompense, she suddenly noticed that Ubreichter was flying past her window. But instead of flying up, he seemed to be flying straight down. He must have been in an awful rush. Then Knight-man returned and looked at her with half a smile.
"Now, your Highness. I'm, eh, going to escort you back to your da- I mean the King." he said and nodded, mostly to himself.
"I didn't know Ubreichter could fly!" she said and stood up.
"What? I do-" he stopped and looked at the window, suddenly understanding and then just nodded. "Yes he, he... eh... Had to fly back home. Now come along, it's a long way to the castle."
"Okay! Is the wedding going to be there? Is mister Bunny and missus Pig-face invited? Is Ubreichter going to be there?"
Sir Terrence sighed and gently took a hold of her hand and said "I'm afraid that's going to have to wait.... for a while."
Then led her out of the extremely pink room.
|
"Good battle! Great swordsmanship, Knight! You were great too, Corinth!"
"You need to improve more, Rena. Sir Knight, on the other hand..."
The Knight went about cleaning his blade as the final enemy breathed its last. The unlikely trio found themselves deep in a dungeon, filled with a wide variety of things creepy, crawly, and just plain ugly. When their leader-- a fetid, pig-like creature-- fell, the others scattered off into the darkness.
"Whateverrrr. I did my part," said Rena, hands on her hips. "I'm complimenting you and you can't even turn off the attitude."
"I am not giving you *attitude*, Rena. I am giving you advice," Corinth said. "Your spells are rather weak. You would do well to improve upon them."
"Sure, sure. I'll improve. I'm constantly improving. Al~ways," Rena said, widely shrugging her shoulders. Her staff was already hanging from a strap on her back, as though her entire sense for danger relied upon the Knight having his sword readied. "But anyway, where's Knight's new wifey? Didn't that King Ricstan guy say his daughter was here?"
"Perhaps it was but a lie, in order to attract some hero to clear this place out for him," Corinth suggested, "... I cannot imagine what value this old thing could hold, however. I feel as though humans have not walked these halls in a long time. The stench of monsters permeates every stone."
The Knight got to his feet after cleaning his blade, though he did not yet sheath it. His feet carried him down to the far end of the room, and then into a hallway. Below him was a staircase leading down yet further. Cautiously, he began to walk down the stairs.
Abruptly, one of the stones shifted beneath his feet and sent him tumbling down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a heavy 'thud'.
Corinth and Rena quickly ran after him, and then pulled the Knight to his feet as they reached him. "That was dangerous," Rena quietly said. "Don't scare us like that. We thought something got you."
"*You* thought something got him," Corinth corrected her, "Although I will admit, the suddenness was worrying."
A jubilant and tiny voice suddenly shouted from a few meters ahead of them. "My rescuers!" shouted a short princess, likely no more than eight or nine years of age. "And a knight in shining armor!" She was behind a set of bars, inside of what must have once been a cell system of sorts.
"Whoa! It's a kid," Rena said, before leaning in next to the side of the Knight's helmet. She dropped her voice to a mere whisper. "So much for your bride. I'm sorry, Knight."
The Knight hung his shoulders slightly as he stepped forth to the bars. He gripped them tightly, yet could see no way to enter the cell, as they had not found a key on their way in.
Corinth stepped alongside him, and then nudged him aside. Her hands shifted suddenly, becoming quite large and draconic, and she quickly wrenched the bars wide. Satisfied with that, she stepped back, letting her hands shift back into their more slight, human form again.
The princess daintily stepped out through the opening, offering a generous curtsy toward Corinth. "I know not what sort of magic that was, but it was entertaining!" she said, seeming altogether too happy for her situation. "And you, sir Knight! My father will be thrilled at the news of my rescue!"
The Knight merely stared down at the tiny princess. He reached out and gently patted her on the head, silently bidding farewell to his selfish thoughts of marrying a princess.
---
"I cannot thank you enough, truly!" King Ricstan exclaimed, "My daughter is back safely, and our old prison, emptied of monsters! This is a glorious day, indeed!"
"We're glad we could help. Really," Rena said, nodding a few times. "But we should be going, now. Didn't plan on staying here for more than a few days, after all."
"A shame, that," the King more quietly said, "But, do come back a few years from now, Sir Knight. When my daughter is of age to marry, I may offer her to you again. She is quite smitten as it is, but she must understand that she is simply too young to marry..."
The Knight nodded, turned around, and walked out of the King's hall.
"I almost feel bad..." Rena remarked, watching the Knight walk off in silence.
"Is he always that quiet, or is he merely... disappointed?" asked the King, worried that he had offended the Knight.
Rena just shook her head and moved to follow the Knight. "He's always like that."
---
(Heeey, a short continuation of a prompt I actually did [earlier today](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4kofwf/wp_a_knight_hears_a_tale_of_a_lone_princess/d3gme8y). I initially was having trouble matching up the motives, but I suppose it's not a far stretch for a knight to want to marry a princess regardless.)
| 2016-05-23T19:42:03 | 2016-05-23T18:35:52 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] A nerdy kid discovers that magic spells work exactly like a computer programming language.
There are some amazing stories here. Thank you all for responding. Also thanks to u/pandizlle who informed me that there is a book dealing with this very concept. It's called "Wizard's Bane" by Rick Cook.
|
The Council of Casters was in an uproar.
The Head Caster, seated at the head of the star-shaped desk had his brows furrowed, three wisps to his left and right holding up the records of the student, neatly arranged in a folder, and an iPhone, showing a video of the caster's prowess.
The student, an 18-year old, geeky looking teen, was seen standing in front of an old telephone on a teachers desk. He raised his index finger, as if about to ask a question. He wagged and waved his fingers, as if he was writing.
"After viewing the video countless times, i am sure he wrote Public... Static... Void... Teleport," said Caster Oakley, the professor of the student, pausing between the words that seemed to be random and nonsensical.
On screen, the telephone disappeared from the desk and the classroom burst into applause.
"His spell was able to teleport the telephone from the classroom desk to the flagpole in the quadrangle, pretty much seven rooms away," narrated Caster Oakley." Such feats normally would take at least 13 years!"
The Council murmed in agreement.
"But that's not the most amazing of his feats," said Oakley.
The Head Caster raised an eyebrow and nodded, imploring him to continue.
"See the next video, sire," Oakley said.
The Head Caster stared at the iPhone for a moment, brows furrowing once again. The iPhone started to shake a bit because of the wisps, as if fingers were fumbling with the iPhone, trying to look for buttons.
The Council giggled in amusement, save for the Head Caster, who let out a huff of frustration.
Oakley barely stifled his laughter, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Allow me, sir," he beckoned. He held his fingers as it about to snap, but instead tapped once in the air with his index, and once with his middle finger, as if tapping on the corresponding video.
"Dare i ask: how had you teleported the telephone that far, that quickly?" asked Oakley on the recording.
"I had a chat with him after class," Oakley said. "He does not have an idea as to how much promise he has shown."
The student shrugged. "It's... Kinda hard to explain, sir."
"Try me," replied Oakley.
The student hesitated, eyes looking down, head topped sideways, as if juggling the decision of whether or not he is to tell."
"Um... Programming, sir."
The Council murmed in surprise. Oakley noted how quickly the Head Caster's brows shot up.
"The goal of the spell was to transport the telephone from point A, the table, to point B, the flagpole. In my mind's eye, i saw the Path of magic - like neon lines running from one point to infinitely other points... The cabinet, the next classroom's desk... Even your head, sir."
"So i thought of this thing in programming called Breadth First Search. In my mind's eye i evaluated the pathlines before casting the spell than simply directing the object to move. Actually it wasn't even me... Magic found it, sir. I only had to be given the appropriate commands and instructions."
The Council burst into clamor once again.
Oakley cleared his throat to silence the council. "This is only of his feats. He demonstrated and explained even more of his feats."
He opened the Photos app of the iPhone with more flicks, taps, and wags of his finger.
"He perfectly charged this ball of aura by - in his words - iteratively incrementing the magical variable that contained the magic."
He wagged his finger, as if going to the next image on an iPhone.
"He drew this beautifully symmetric firework using - again, in his words - iteratively getting sines of the center and random radii. He said he used something called a for loop."
Another wag of the finger.
"In the class, he was able to maintain this ball of fire. He said he used something called a while loop."
Another wag of his finger.
"He managed to control this life-sized mannequin using only magic. He only said he did Object-oriented than procedural, making each part of the mannequin an object. I consulted google and Object Oriented was a programming paradigm."
He pushed down an imaginary lever with his middle finger and ring finger, turning off the iPhone.
"He programmed, my fellow Councilmembers. Modernity has knocked at magic's door, in the most unexpected way. We may have a child more advanced than most of us here!"
The Council, afraid of losing their Council positions, burst into uproar once again.
"I never liked technology," grumbled the Head Caster, looking sadly at his Council Pin, which soon might have to be passed on.
|
"Jinkies!" I cried aloud, though it was just me in the room. "That's it!"
The glow of the supernatural program cast a dim light across the dark and dingy office in the old house. I was ready to ship, finally. My app would be out in the wild shortly having the unique title of "Universal Magic Compiler".
You see I'd finally put all the crazy pieces together, solved the mystery. Spells and magic aren't made up of whimsical ingredients they're just programs. Instructions that the universe can natively interpret. Me and the gang had seen some weird things through our adventures but now I could show them that magic was *real*.
"Ruh-roh" groaned Scooby as he and Shaggy entered my den.
"Like, Velma" Shaggy began, a foreboding shadow cast across his face "What are ya doing up here all alone? The gang's all downstairs man and like Fred just went to get cheeseburgers."
"Sounds great Shaggy." I lied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll be right down, just publishing my latest invention into the wild!"
Just a few more clicks and it was done. UMC 1.0 available for download. I raced downstairs to show the gang, I couldn't wait for them to see what this thing could do!
"Hey guys... Where's Fred?" I asked, he wasn't anywhere to be seen.
*knock knock knock*
"That must be him now, not sure why he's knocking." Daphne leaped from her seat to get the door. "He went to get cheeseburgers for Scoob and Shaggy."
"That's okay." I said "I can wait. I mean it's not like I'm about to reveal an app that lets you turn water into wine or anything."
Scooby looked at me disapprovingly and covered his eyes.
"Ummm... Gang?" Daphne returned from the door escorting a middle aged man wearing a long sleeved, black, mock neck shirt, some terrible jeans and hilarious sneakers. He wore thin, wire framed glasses and had just a touch of gray hair retreating from his forehead. "This is Mr. Jobs. He says he wants to meet all of us, specifically Velma."
The man moved forward, I was still stuck in "the zone" but I could've sworn he levitated forward, glided ever so sweetly across the old floor. He smiled and his hands perched in front of his chest formed a tent with his fingers.
"Gang." He spoke, taking a moment to make eye contact with each of us. "I'm here today to make you all an offer. I know it's been tough going at Mystery Inc., but I believe in what you do here. I believe in it so much..."
I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes as he spewed the rest of his pitch. So typical.
"... 1. Billion. Dollars."
The gang all gasped. I chewed at my nails and the anger welled inside me.
"... So I think we'd really synergize! What do you think?" Finally he was done.
"Thanks Jobs but we're not interested." I snapped.
"Ummmm Velma?" Shaggy sounded hesitant "A little private confab if you don't mind?"
I huddled with the rest of the gang in the corner, shielding ourselves from Jobs' steely gaze.
"So um, like, about how many sandwiches and cheeseburgers can we buy with like a jillion dollars?" He asked.
I'm normally the cool and collected one of the bunch but I'd had enough. I turned around to find Jobs, staring at a painting, a finger on his chin as though he were some sort of artisan. Gross.
"Jobs!" I bellowed. "Thanks for the offer but we're done here."
"2 Billion." He eagerly spouted as he turned to face us. His face looked uncaring, his finger vertically shushing his own lips.
"Hey gang!" Fred burst into the room. "I've got the ch.... Am I interrupting?"
"No." I said. "Mr. Jobs was just leaving."
"Suit yourselves!" He warned as he floated to the door. "But we'll meet again, oh, we'll meet again. Muahahahaha."
By the time the door closed behind him Shaggy and Scoob were already elbow deep in cheeseburgers. Through a mouthful of chow, Shaggy asked me "So Velma, I guess Mystery Inc. must have a much higher multiplier on its valuation than I would have thought?"
"No Shaggy. I'm not sure what he wants, yet. But something tells me we're going to find out."
| 2014-08-04T05:03:48 | 2014-08-04T04:59:12 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] A cure for sleep has been found, by taking a cheap pill people no longer need to sleep. You opted to continue sleeping and now 1 year after the release of this pill you notice that people are starting to act oddly.
|
Ada's eyes shot open as she woke with a start, interrupting her fairy dream. Something was happening. Daddy and Mommy were shouting again, but it was different this time. They weren't arguing, they were afraid. Hesitantly she slid out of bed pulling a much-loved teddy bear by the ear.
Ada shuffled to the door, hugged her bear tight, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and pressed her ear to the door. Mommy and Daddy seemed to be scrambling around. They were talking about getting clothes on, grabbing weapons, checking social media. Ada didn't understand what could be happening. She slowly realized that there were shouts coming from outside too. She went to the window.
People were flying out of their houses in various states of dress. Some had shovels, guns, or knives, others were holding phones in front of their faces. She heard her parents leaving the house and saw them join the masses. They had forgotten her, not too surprisingly.
Everyone seemed to be looking up at the sky so Ada opened the window and leaned out. What she saw was something she would never forget. The lights in the sky were bewitching as they spun around the shape of they flying saucer. The craft was slowly descending to Earth. First contact was imminent.
Once humanity got over their immediate fear and prejudice, the aliens turned out to be very amicable. Humans slowly grew to like them despite the tentacles. They promised they came with peaceful purposes and even shared a variety of scientific and technological knowledge.
At first people were excited about the advancement of space travel or the cure for the common cold, but as it turned out, the most valued gift the aliens brought came in the form of a simple, cheap pill. This pill became known as the Sleep Cycle. One pill and you would suddenly feel like you'd had a whole night's rest. The pill's popularity exploded until it seemed that every human was addicted. Everyone except Ada that is.
Ada loved to dream. In dreams she could have magic powers, explore new worlds, have friends and family that loved her. When Mommy and Daddy came home with the first batch of Sleep Cycle, they didn't bother to offer it to her like most parents would have, but Ada didn't want it anyway. She would never give up her dreams.
The human race was happy. They had more time to be productive, and more time for fun. Between the alien technology and the longer hours, scientific advancement was at an all time high. The planet was bustling with energy and still Ada dreamed.
It was over a year before she noticed, but at some point Ada became aware that the people around her were not the same. Her classmates seemed to be growing faster than her. At first she thought she was just getting her growth spurt late, but then the students in the grade below her seemed taller too. Mommy's face seemed to have suddenly developed wrinkles, Aunt Susie had her baby at six months and it didn't even look premature.
Once Ada started looking for the signs, they were all there. She started measuring how often Daddy had to shave his face and found it had definitely become more frequent. Everyone was eating more frequently. There was a news story about how babies that were given Sleep Cycle seemed to be growing bigger and "healthier" than those that weren't. But Ada had another theory. Those babies were just aging faster than ones kept off the medicine. Everyone who took Sleep Cycle was aging faster.
Ada had nobody to talk to so she decided she would have to take matters into her own hands. The aliens had provided Sleep Cycle so they probably knew what was going on. She dressed in black because that was what people did in these situations, put her teddy bear in her backpack, and armed herself with her history textbook as it was the heaviest solid, portable object she had in her bedroom. It was time to visit the flying saucer.
Gaining access to the saucer proved to be easy. The aliens were so well trusted by this point that security measures were low priority. Being a small, innocent, little girl, Ada simply slipped into a guided tour group and walked onto the space craft. While the alien guide had everyone's attention, she slipped down a hall that had been described as leading to the lab which was off limits. That had seemed like a promising place to start.
Ada had little difficulty in locating the lab. She stood on her toes to peer through the window in the door. There were only two aliens inside and they seemed busy so she slipped inside.
All around the room were human sized pods with tubes coming out the tops and leading towards complicated looking contraptions in the middle of the room. The aliens were handling tubes full of colored mist and keeping an eye on some dials.
"Would you take a look at this nightmare! I do love a good nightmare."
"Stop sampling the stock, we'll get in trouble."
"But human dreams are so delicious. I think they are my favorite species yet."
"I dunno, I think I liked the last planet better."
"You have weird taste. Oh hey, machine 8 seems to be contaminated, would you go take a look?"
One of the aliens then walked over to a pod and opened it up. A woman was standing inside like a statue. She was holding a hissing cat in her arms, but the cat couldn't escape her stony grip.
"Oh damn, it's another crazy cat lady. Brought her cat with her. I'll never understand humanity's desire to keep other species as pets."
"Send it back to the time she was taken from. Neither one of them will notice the difference."
"Yeah yeah, I know the drill. Take the pill, transport to pod, sleep eight hours, transport them back to the time they were taken from. They'll never notice the difference."
The alien shut the door of the pod and typed into it's keypad. There was a meow and then the alien opened the door again. The woman was still there, but the cat was gone. He nodded and then headed back to the middle of the room.
Ada had seen enough to understand the situation. The aliens were harvesting human dreams. And humans weren't aging faster, they were just forgetting eight hours of their lives every time they took a pill and got transported to a pod. Because of the time travel component, each pill caused a person to age eight hours in the blink of an eye.
Ada got up out of her corner and ran toward the aliens swinging her textbook in front of her. The aliens stopped in surprise. She managed to smack on with the book before she grabbed vials full of dream and smashed them on the floor. Hazy images sprouted up around them as the vials broke.
The aliens were distracted by the visions around them and Ada moved on to smash buttons on the pods and open doors. Not knowing what buttons to press, her efforts had varied effects. Some people were transported away but to the wrong time or place and so their absence was noticed. Some people become stuck in the statue-like sleep caused by the pod. Some people were awakened and alerted to their situation.
After that the word spread quickly that the aliens were taking time away from people to harvest their dreams. Not too surprisingly, they were kicked off the planet right away and humanity had to learn how to sleep again.
Ada went back home to continue to be ignored by her parents, however she did get recognition for her heroism. In the years to come her name would have it's place in the very history book she used to take out the dream-eating aliens.
|
It was heard to recall when it started, exactly. To be honest, they’d started to drift apart even before his wife became a Waker. That was the whole point, in fact, or one of them. Though friends and family had warned them against it, he and Marie figured that if she no longer had to sleep, they’d have more time together at home, more time to be intimate, more time to fix what was resembling a marriage less and less each day. He knew what he was getting into marrying a surgeon in theory, of course, but he wasn’t really prepared for the long hours apart, the exhausted conversations and lack of sex. The frequent interruptions when they finally had some time together and the constant wondering whether her work was just an excuse. Whether she still loved him.
He didn’t have interest in the pill, himself. Like many Dreamers he’d always been a bit of a hypochondriac when it came to medications — he hesitated to take too many aspirins, much less something that would permanently alter his brain chemistry — but Marie didn’t even hesitate. She shrugged off his questions about the pill’s safety, about how their different sleep schedules would affect their relationship, about the radical social changes such a drug might create.
“It’s been going through rigorous testing for nearly a decade, and that includes human clinical trials. It’s perfectly safe. This is what I need, Rob. What we need. I’ll finally have enough time to get everything done, and I won’t be completely exhausted when I get home. Trust me, this will make things better.”
And it did, at first. They started eating meals together again (real meals, not just reheated leftovers), watched movies together on the sofa (though she would tease him when he started to drift off), and had meaningful conversations about their days. In the beginning, she would even lie in bed with him as he went to sleep, even though she no longer had a need to.
That was one of the first things to stop.
It was a matter of convenience, as she explained it. If she had a call to the hospital in the middle of the night (which was becoming more and more frequent), it was much easier if she was already prepared.
“Seconds save lives,” she said smiling. “Besides, you don’t really need me to put you to bed, do you? It takes forever sometimes, and it’s terribly boring on my end. We can be intimate in other ways, you know?”
After a few months they replaced the Queen-sized bed with a Twin. The only need a Waker had for a bed was to rest from physical exhaustion, and even then only for a short while. The Queen was a terrible waste of space.
These days even he was getting less use out of the furniture. Though he had remained a Dreamer he was getting less sleep than ever. Marie was spending more time at work than she ever had before (or at least, out of the house, he thought, trying not to feverishly picture what — or whom — she might be doing), and her group of friends had changed dramatically.
It was only natural that Wakers would spend more time together than with Dreamers. With so much additional time on their hands they would naturally become closer. There was nothing preventing the two from becoming friends, no crazy government conspiracy or class segregation, but still the groups seemed to increasingly stay within their own as time passed.
Marie’s new friends however, were especially strange. They were friendly enough, very loud and gregarious (Rob had noticed this about Wakers, they tended to have no volume control. He supposed they had begun to forget the teeth-gritting rage at being woken up by a party at 3 in the morning), but they almost never addressed him directly, their eyes flitting past him like he was a potted plant. At first he thought they were simply rude, or in the case of the dashing Jacob, more interested in putting moves on his wife, but he started to notice — or imagine — a strange expression on their faces when they did look at him. It was more than disinterest, he thought, more of a…cold detachment.
He started waking up in the middle of the night. He would have the feeling of someone staring at him, or think he heard the closing of a door, but every time he’d awaken to find himself alone in the darkness. Sometimes he would check his phone for a message from his wife. He rarely found one.
Marie had tried to convince him to take the pills himself at first. Tried to get him to think of all the extra time he would have, the increased productivity (and therefore income) it allowed, the room for hobbies and self-improvement, the unparalleled feeling of vitality that came with the drug. When it became clear that he was not going to change his mind she began to withdraw. She spent more time with other Wakers and less at home. She spoke less when they were together, and looked at him with a kind of…pity? Or was it resentment?
Finally one night he awoke yet again. This time…yes, he definitely heard something. Muffled whispering outside his door. His heart began to race before he recognized Marie’s voice. The other must be one of her friends from the hospital. At last she was able to convince them to be courteous when he was sleeping, at least. He rolled over, closing his eyes. Strange that they would be passing the time here, though, instead of one of the Wakers' houses, or a 24/7 parlor.
The knob to his bedroom door turned slowly. Rob felt something sink in his chest. *They don’t know I’m here. They’re coming in to fuck behind my back.* The confirmation was too much for him. What would he say? How could he confront her? He wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t strong enough to face her, to look her in the eye and know his marriage was over. He would pretend to sleep, he decided. They would see him and leave, and he could decide how to deal with this in the morning.
Only they didn’t leave. There was no gasp of realization or scurry of feet. The door opened and closed with a whisper, and careful footsteps stopped at the bed.
“Look at him.” Marie breathed softly. “I can’t take living with it anymore. So slow, stupid…*weak*.” She spat the final word out in a hiss.
“They all are.” A male voice murmured back. “Ignorant layabouts that only know how to take from the rest of us.”
“I just can’t believe I used to be like this. That oblivious and…vulnerable.”
*What the hell is all this?* Rob thought behind clenched eyes. *What, is my wife part of some Waker supremacist group or something? I always knew she thought she was better than me because of her job, but this…*
“Well, it doesn’t have to be like this anymore. Are you ready?”
“Yes. I’ve been ready for a while now.”
*Good. Leave. I’m tired of being the only one trying to make this work. Get out of my life and let me start living it again.*
The voices began a quiet chant in unison.
“Our eyes are opened. We are the watchers in the dark, the unblinking sentinels of creation. With our knowledge we shall guide the sons of man and deliver him from folly. May the wicked die in their stupor. May the Dreamers dream forever more.”
“Give me the knife.”
| 2016-08-30T14:27:13 | 2016-08-30T14:25:39 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] The world seems to be your average sword and sorcery world. You, a young adventurer have descended down into a forgotten tomb. There, you find strange metals and plastics. Lights come on without torches. A man made of metal awakens, stumbling toward you. "What year is it?" he asks
|
He knew the Tombs were off-limits. Many adventurers have been rumoured to descend into them, never to return. He didn't care. Young, brash, overly eager, he was willing to risk it all so he'd finally prove himself; so he'd earn the respect he desperately craved. When he finally stood before the colossal metal entrance, torch in hand, he felt only the slightest of hesitations before stepping in.
The tunnel behind the door was... odd. The walls and floors were perfectly uniform - not made of stone or wood, they seemed... metal - but to find so much metal in one place, not to mention work it so seamlessly, was... unheard of. He kept going forward, aided only by the flames of his torch, until the tunnel opened into a large room. He crept forward carefully, hand on the hilt of his sword, as if a wyvern could jump at him at any time - after all, perhaps that's where the previous adventurers went? Still, he progressed, inch by inch.
Until he tripped.
He quickly regained his balance but in doing so leaned against the wall, unwittingly hitting what felt like a button. Suddenly, the room became lit, blinding him.
When he finally managed to open his eyes and adjust to the sudden light, he found himself in a stupor. The lights were... white. Purely white, not yellow like flames. There weren't even any torches, only long, glass tubes. Looking around further, he realized he stood on the edge of a large room covered with metal tables, dark glass and... several human skeletons. Cold sweat ran down his forehead as he realized the Tomb was more than a scary name.
*Clink*.
He jumped as noise suddenly echoed through the room - the distinct sound of metal hitting metal. He turned and was met with a sight he could not have been prepared for.
A man was walking towards him. Or rather, *shuffling* towards him, clearly limping on his right leg. His skin was perfectly smooth, yet seemed... cold. Squinting his eyes, he realized it was not skin - it was metal, grey and dusty. He was missing an arm and his eyes glowed red yet seemingly without malicious intent. The adventurer fearfully lifted his sword towards the man.
"What year is it?" the man asked. His voice was unnatural. It sounded like several voices speaking at once without any emotion or intonation.
"W-what?" the adventurer spurted out.
"Year," the man of metal repeated. "What year is it?"
"It- it's... it's 966."
The metal man tilted his head. "What? No, no, that can't be right, that..."
He looked around as if he wasn't quite sure where he was, the red light in his eyes flickering. "How long was I offline..." he muttered.
"Who- what are you? A golem? A demon?" the adventurer asked.
"Series 7 android," the man responded casually as if the adventurer had any sense of what that meant.
"What does that mean? Is... is your skin made of *metal*?"
The man kept looking around the room. "Nano-plasteel polymer with titanium weave reinforcement," he stated. The adventurer decided not to bother to ask further - it didn't seem he would get any straight answers.
The man's eyes finally stopped flickering as he looked at a skeleton sitting on a nearby chair. He shuffled forward and placed his lone arm on the bones. Lights emerged from his head, symbols and letters simply floating in the air in front of him, showing various spirals and unknown words. *The creature must clearly be magical in nature*, the adventurer thought. *A golem*?
"Oh, Doctor Lakhani..." the man said solemnly. "I'm... sorry."
He turned back towards the adventurer.
"You. You said the year is 966. 966 years since what?"
"The Great Runic War of course," the adventurer answered, surprised by the golem's lack of knowledge. After a brief moment of silence, he decided to continue. "A battle between ancient kingdoms of impossible power, it is said. Great spells rained hellfire on the world, killing hundreds of thousands in blinding flashes of light. Places where the fireballs landed are still warm and saturated with raw, unstable mana, killing anyone foolish enough to approach."
"What..." the man whispered. "The nukes... they did it... they actually did it." The light in his eyes dimmed somewhat as he lowered his head, considering the situation. He then stepped towards the adventurer who once again raised his sword.
"Stop!" the adventurer cried out.
The metal man inspected the sword carefully and extended his hand, gripping it tightly. The adventurer tried to yank the sword back but found the man's grip impossibly firm. He could only watch as a swarm of black dust flew from the man's chest and towards the sword, enveloping it completely - mere seconds later, the swarm retreated and the sword's blade was gone completely.
He dropped the shaft in panic and watched in terror as the swarm flew towards the man's missing arm and further, forming a shape resembling the missing appendage. The swarm then simply... stopped moving and took on a more solid, regular form; the form of an arm, though it was considerably shinier than the rest of the man's dusty body.
The man moved his hand around several times as if testing it.
"This will have to do for now," he said and started walking towards the door; somehow, his limp disappeared altogether and he was now walking with flawless steadiness.
"Wait!" the adventurer yelled. The metal man turned and faced him.
"Where are you going? What- what are you going to do?" the adventurer asked. He worried the man could mean harm to his people; if he did, he could likely not stop him.
"I'll do what they would have wanted," the metal man said after a moment of consideration and nodded towards the skeletons. "I'll give you back what you have lost." He turned back towards the entrance to the tunnel and started walking.
"But I'll make sure you don't meet the same fate," he finished solemnly.
|
# Soulmage
**I called an orb of light into my palm as Lucet open the wreckage of the surprisingly flimsy metal door.** Meloai and I had poked and prodded at the damn thing, trying to find a handle or a knob to no avail, until Lucet finally grew impatient with our fiddling and ripped the door apart with a lance of disgustingly powerful force.
"If that thing killed us all because *someone* couldn't be bothered to check for traps, I would have kicked your ass," I muttered.
"There's no magic on the other side," Lucet pointed out, stepping through the door. "And I doubt any mundane traps could—"
As soon as Lucet crossed the threshold, as if set off by an invisible tripwire, hidden lights flared to life around us. Lucet crouched, manifesting a triple-layered shield as a pitch-black coffin around her, while I flared my futuresight to life and Meloai anchored curious webs of magic to herself, attempting to draw any would-be attacks away from my more vulnerable form.
Nothing. In the few seconds into the future I could glimpse at the moment, the three of us were still standing in the hallway, spellshields ready, nothing lunging at us or firing deadly beams of light at us or doing any of the various horrible things we'd been conditioned to expect over our adventures.
Finally, Lucet dismissed her coffin shield—for all its strength, it was a stationary construct—and stepped forward, analyzing one of the lights.
"No magic, my ass," I grumbled. "Lucet, tell me what we're looking at."
"It could—"
"I'd sense eldritch magic, even if only dimly," I interrupted.
Lucet scowled at me. "Can you turn your futuresight off for a moment? You're almost as bad as Sansen with that thing on."
I blinked, realized I'd answered her statement before she'd even finished making it, and hurriedly dismissed the flame of burning futures over my left eye. I'd seen the hopeless mentality Sansen had slid into from abusing his own oracular abilities; unless I was in life-threatening danger, I wasn't keen to risk following down his footsteps. Besides, futuresight always gave me the creeps, what with it threatening my notion of free will and all. "Right. Sorry."
"It could be eldritch magic," Lucet continued, "but as *someone* pointed out, as far as I know that stuff is still... based off of mortal magic, just... twisted. But my soulsight isn't picking up *anything* behind these light spells." She held out a hand, hardening the air into a rod, and gently tapped one of the luminescent patches on the wall. "It exists physically," she added. "Not a mental illusion or a mind manipulation."
"Unless it's an illusion so sophisticated it makes you *think* it isn't an illusion," Meloai piped up.
"Right, well, if that's the case we're all fucked anyways," I said. Just in case, though, I ran a check on my mental defenses; my soul was still surrounded by an early-warning shell of fragile shame, and it showed no signs of being breached. Anything that wanted to enter my soul would at least have left traces—so I dismissed the idea for now. "Right, so we've got unknown magic in the creepy basement. I'm turning my futuresight back on for now."
Lucet grimaced. "Fine. Warn us if we all die in a few seconds."
I didn't reply—with one eye on the future and one eye on the present, I wasn't even quite sure when Lucet had said that, if she'd said it at all. Futuresight was disorienting as hell, but it beat getting caught by surprise.
The hallway sloped into the ground before opening up into a gently glowing chamber. I saw our future selves freeze just before entering and held up a hand in warning.
I could only peer into the future of the location I stood in, so I couldn't quite see what was inside the chamber—but my future self had me covered. He poked his head inside the chamber and... whistled. "You'd better see this," he said, beckoning and letting his futuresight fade.
Well, if my future self said so, I may as well. I poked my head inside the chamber and... saw...
The machine was absolutely massive, spanning floor to ceiling and twisting in ways that defied ordinary, three-dimensional movement. I knew dimensional magic when I saw it, although the most sophisticated structures I'd seen that were anchored in other planes were like crayon scribbles to the masterwork of the elegant mechanical mass. Gears and levers and strange luminescent panels hummed and ticked to some inscrutable rhythm, a clockwork heartbeat more complex than every wristwatch I'd ever seen combined. But that wasn't even the most terrifying part.
In my mage's sight, the machine undeniably had a soul.
I let out a low whistle. "You'd better see this," I said, beckoning and letting my futuresight fade.
At the sound of my voice, the machine seemed to... awaken, for lack of a better word. Its hums and ticks grew swifter as Meloai and Lucet stood by my side, warily watching the construct as it shifted to life.
And then the entity spoke.
"GREETINGS." The machine twisted and ticked as its mechanical voice rang out. "KNOWLEDGE WILL BE REWARDED. WHAT TRUTHS OF THIS UNIVERSE HAVE YOU BROUGHT ME TODAY?"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), and r/bubblewriters for more.
| 2022-12-19T14:03:08 | 2022-12-19T10:48:39 | 236 | 108 |
[WP] At first, the aliens mocked our technological advancements. After learning it took only a few centuries to move from horse carriages to space ships, they suddenly became more friendly.
|
"So what you're telling me is they already left their planet?" asked the defense commander.
"Yes"
"Where the hell have you been looking? How long ago did this happen?"
"A few months. I check on them from time to time. Last time I looked they just got around to fire."
"So you are telling me that they went from fire to planet hopping in just a few months?"
"For us it was a few months. In their solar system its been tens of thousands of years"
"On the last report you handed me, Doctor, your Ethological prediction was that they would destroy each other before they discover husbandry. Claiming the brutality of their world could never sustain life. Last year you handed me a report regarding the cold blooded of the planet, that they could pose a threat, so we shot an asteroid at them to neutralize them. What became of that?"
"It seems the cold blooded were replaced by smaller, smarter warm blooded creatures"
"Replaced how?"
"They evolve at an exponential rate. A decade ago they hadn't even left their liquid environment."
"This isn't good."
"No, sir. No it is not. There is more."
"Doctor... you're..."
"Not only have they advanced technologically, They have greatly increased their ability to kill each other. They are destroying their planet in attempts to destroy each other. It shouldn't work, but somehow it is. They are growing whilst destroying themselves at the same time. I think this is why they are exploring other planets.
If this trend continues they are going to expand and continue to destroy each other. We will be collateral damage. They wont care what is in their way. They will grow and destroy, and grow and destroy until they consume everything. At this moment, we cant stop them if we tried. They do not understand peace. Even if we bring them gifts, they will kill us before we get a chance to speak to them. There is no way to stop them."
"I'm assigning more workers to your task force, you must keep me informed on this threat"
"Sir, I..."
"What is it doctor?"
"I know how long it will take to get your request through our bureaucratic system. Even by the time this conversation is over, I don't know where they will be"
"So what is your suggestion, Doctor?"
"Run."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
First time in a long time posting something in this sub, hope you readers enjoy!
|
As the sun hid behind the Earth, throwing a shadow on General Lennox's spaceship, he admired the light rays surrounding the blue-green orb with its shimmering lights.
A while later he turned away from the window. On his desk a few letters awaited his response. Funny how even now, so far into the future with such technological advance some departments preferred the good old pen and paper. He sighed. One of the letters was the reason he was here. His shift on the Musk XIV patrol ship should've ended a few weeks ago, however a new threat arose in the last months. The Xamiasians, or however they called themselves, we're a few days from arriving. And they weren't arriving in piece like the others.
Their huge fleet of onyx black ships was nearing and probably thought they went undetected. It was staggering how the other space races underestimated how fast human technologyp0 advanced. And now although the Xamiasian fleet would scare the humankind 10 years ago, now Lennox smiled.
He wouldn't fight, he wouldn't attack. He would just defend. With a huge grin on his face, he stepped out of his room and headed towards the command center.
...
The battle was heated. Huge laser and Anti-Matter canons blasted all over the human fleet. Sparks and light with the power of a thousand suns filled the entire space around the Earth. Down on the ground people were scared to go out. Their eyes saw countless ship parts falling down and burning in the atmosphere. Day and night they worried what the outcome would be. And then the answer came. Silence. Darkness.
The Concordionate, the council of the world leaders stood in silence and suspense as they looked at the monitors surrounding them.
"The battle is ours." echoed general Lennox's voice through the speakers.
...
The Xamiasians were astounded by the defence systems of the humans. The battle sent a message through the whole galaxy and many species sent vessels with peace ambassadors. The Earth was now on the galaxy's map, triumphant.
P.S. this is my first try at a WP and also I haven't written anything in almost an year so it was a nice practice
Also I am open to corrections since English is my third language
| 2020-07-07T09:07:29 | 2020-07-07T08:36:34 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] You dig up a time capsule you buried years ago. Instead of memorabilia, you find a modern phone. It rings.
|
As I strolled through the luscious green park of my old elementary school, brimming with shrubbery, moss, flowers of all colors and trees, a flood of memories shot into my head. All the pure fun I had as a kid, before college or shitty retail jobs, before broken hearts and a father that bails on you...I missed those days. When your only job was to learn and to have fun, not to make money or scrape by or question why someone doesn't love you.
*I may only be 20, but I feel old now.*
I noticed a patch of exposed dirt off to my left, a clear indicator that the ground had recently been torn up and packed back down. It hadn't been there yesterday, or any other day I'd made the walk, for that matter- and I walked that path every day I was home, since childhood.
*On second thought...isn't that where I buried my time capsule?*
I couldn't remember for sure, but I thought I'd look. As I approached it, I became certain that it was indeed where I buried my capsule- I'd marked a tree next to it with a knife, carving a little heart into the bark. A shovel had been laid down by the roots.
*Why would someone dig up my capsule?*
I had to find out. I was curious to see my capsule, anyway, and so I dug. The earth was soft and smelled of minerals- a smell I have always loved. It only took a few minutes to unearth the capsule.
I opened it and what I saw confused me. It was a rectangular gift box.
*This is not what I buried...*
I hesitated at first, but decided to open it. There was an iPhone 6s inside, brand new, though the box had been opened, and a note attached to it. It read:
*Dear Jane,*
*I hope you are well. This may be a risky way to get your present to you, but I know you're home from break and you always loved walking down that path of yours. You're attentive too, you've always been sharp. I feel like you're old enough now to make this decision for yourself, Jane, so I will offer it to you.*
*I am your father. I left when you were young after being diagnosed with schizophrenia; it was too much for your mother to handle along with 3 children. Your birthday is in a few days, so I thought I'd give you something nice. My number is in the phone...if you want to call me, and maybe meet with me, you can. I'd love to see how beautiful of a woman you've become. If not, I understand. I love you.*
*-Dad*
I sat there, dirt filling my back pockets, staring at the note. A breeze picked up and blew through my hair.
I put my old SIM card into the 6s and booted the phone up. His number was in there, under the contact name 'daddy <3'.
I cried a little bit and clicked on his name. It actually dialed through.
"Happy birthday, darling," a voice answered the phone, a soothing voice I'd longed for as a child. It was the best present I'd ever get.
|
I looked down at the phone and then to the rest of the items in the time capsule. There were toys, a letter asking if I was still thinking about Bobby, and something that MIGHT have been a sandwich fifteen years ago. The phone ringing was weird, but the sandwich thing was weirder.
I grabbed the phone out of the box and looked at the number, it was nothing I recognized. That being said, I wasn't exactly going to send this sort of strange bullshit to voicemail, so I picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Who is this?"
"I should be asking you the same thing," the man on the other end said. He didn't sound like he was happy.
"You called me!"
"No I didn't," he scoffed into the phone, "I found this phone and it was ringing, I picked it up and you were here."
"So you're saying that I called you?" I asked. I supposed that two people being called wasn't weird compared to the time capsule phone.
"Yes, because you did."
"But I -" I stopped myself, "whatever, the point is, what's up?"
"Nothing much, pretty nice day. I got a ghost phone call, you?" I could feel the sarcasm dripping off of his voice like molasses.
"Samesies."
"Samesies?"
"Yeah," I said, "picked up the phone and here you were."
"That's not how phones work."
I sat myself down against the trunk of the tree that I'd buried the time capsule under. "I know right?"
"So you're-"
"Hillary," I said as I looked at the sandwich. It might have been a pile of Oreos.
"David," he responded, "nice to meet you I guess."
"Yeah, so where did you find the phone?"
"Time capsule," he said, "buried it under a tree-"
"Fifteen years ago?" I asked.
"This is weird."
"Yeah it is."
"Yeah it is," he said back to me. I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment. There wasn't anything strange about it. Aside from the fact that it existed at least.
"So."
"So."
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"Hang up?"
"No! There has to be something more to this, we just found random phones in our back yards and you're telling me that you just want to move on?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"All right," I hissed, "fine, I'll hang up." I pulled the phone away from my ear and swiped across the screen as aggressively as I could. As soon as the call hung up the world flashed in front of my eyes.
I was blind for a good thirty seconds, but I shook the white away and looked around me. Most things were the same, the only difference I could make out was that there were maple leaves around me now instead of pine needles.
The phone stayed quiet and I looked from it to the leaves and then back to it. It wasn't like there was anything else for it to do. I picked myself up off of the ground and shook my head. Blonde hair got into my mouth and I swore.
"Who is that?" asked a small child from the inside of the house.
| 2016-01-21T07:35:39 | 2016-01-21T05:32:45 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] "The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve..." (Matt 20:28) You're up against Jesus in a dance-off
|
Lights. Camera. *Action*.
Lucius stood, leaning with his arms crossed over his chest. The power pose. Throngs of men, women and children cheered and hollered out in reverence. He'd *killed* the crowd this time. The head-spin leading into a windmill, the sliding shuffle gliding seamlessly into the freeze, icing on the cake. The power pose was the cherry on top.
The smirk of all-knowing confidence on Lucius' face only grew as the announcers failed to find words to describe what they'd just witnessed. He'd absolutely, positively, *killed* his opponent.
Unfortunately for Lucius, his opponent on this day had a knack for coming back from the dead and a propensity for sick dance moves.
Jesus Christ moved onto the stage with his usual stoicism. Lucius chortled.
"The Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve," Lucius said. "It'll take a miracle to top that."
Jesus placed his hands together, fingers straight, and bowed his head. "Father, forgive this man for what he says, for he knows not the sickness of my moves nor the nastiness of my style. Amen."
The crowd went silent. Lucius, shaken by the sick burn of a prayer, tightened his power pose and pretended not to hear it. The announcer ushered him off stage and then signaled to the DJ to spin the next track.
Jesus lifted his chin, eyes closed, and spread his arms out to his sides with his palms facing towards the heavens. The DJ spun his track- A beautiful choir of children singing "All hail the power of Jesus’ name! Let angels prostrate fall; bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him Lord of all.”
And then they broke it down.
Jesus hovered three feet above the floor just as Tupac entered the track and laid it down. Lucius' jaw went slack and the crowd went wild. He watched helplessly as Jesus moonwalked, in midair, to a crippled child in the audience. With a wave of his hand in beat with the song, the child rose from his wheelchair and joined Jesus' dance squad.
Together and with holy synchronicity, Jesus and the newly-healed child pirouetted to the emergency fire alarm in the dance-battle venue. Jesus looked Lucius straight in the eye as he pulled the alarm.
Wine rained from the ceiling sprinklers. The crowd went insane.
"Some flesh with your wine." Jesus proclaimed, smacking his chest. An eruption of small, circular bread flew from his chest and into the crowd. They ate that shit up.
"And you," Jesus said to Lucius. "Eat my dick."
Jesus pelvic thrusted hard at Lucius and bread flew from his groin, hitting him in the face.
With one final airflare leading into a 2-step headspin, Jesus completed his routine and ended with his own power pose-- Arms stretched out, feet crossed, head hung low. The Crucifixion.
The crowd, drunk on wine and full of righteousness, cheered so hard the venue shook. Lucius was cast out of the competition, doomed to forever scour the underbelly of the dance world plotting his revenge and preparing for the next great battle.
|
"Shit, what did we do last night?" I said to my friend Matt, whom had also chosen the floor of the kitchen as an acceptable place to sleep last night.
"You want a beer?" Matt exclaimed, answering my question with another question. It was a sufficint enough answer, considering the intense hangover I was suffering. We decided to have breakfast with our beers to help our bodies heal. Luckily there was some cereal left. Unluckily there was only enough cocoa puffs for one person. At least Matt is fine with grape nuts. I poured the cereal for both of us, and we were about to sit down and eat when Jesus walks downstairs.
"We have some cereal if you want to eat breakfast," I said to Jesus as he decended the last step.
"The Son of Man came not be served, but to serve. Here are your grape nuts, Matt."
"Thanks Jesus, you're the best!"
Jesus turns to me. "You know how you have sinned. You were not going to share the cocoa puffs, and now I will serve you up fresh dance moves if you decline to share your chocolately goodness."
"Challenge accepted. I got this in the bag. You so awkward, you walk around everywhere like you walking on water."
"We shall see about that" Jesus said, right before busting out the fist move. He choses some rather fluid movements, displaying he is comfortable with his relationship with water." I have only one option.
"I'll bring the heat." I stepped up the pace of the music to the next level. No, the next three levels. The moves I'm pulling off are legendary. It is the stuff Micheal Jackson would do if he were a super athlete in addition to being an amazing dancer. However, Jesus appears unaffected by my skilllfull movement endeavors. He responds with a set of moves unparalled by any dancer, except himself in adjacent universes. I do my best to top it, but none of my flashy combos come close to the deep artfullness of the set Jesus just laid down. I bow my head and kneel to jesus, as is customary for the loser in any dance battle in our frat house.
"I now will claim my victory." Jesus walks to the cocoa puffs. It was already too late. The milk had compromised the cereal to an indistinguishable mush. I feel like a pile of rotten potatoes.
"Forgive me Jesus, for my greed has extingished the hope of tasty cereal for all of us."
"Thou must not worry, I forgive you. If you have faith, there will be cocoa puffs." Right as I am conjuring up the possibility of the puffy stuff, all the grape nuts in the house turn to cocoa puffs.
"It is a miracle!" I cried tears of joy for the heavenly grain-derived breakfast.
"I still like grape nuts better" said Matt.
"Way to be a bummer, Matt" I responded.
"We all must forgive and make peace." We all did a secret bro-shake and the weight of sin was lifted.
Twelve doves then drop off a few olive branches through the mail slot and flew off into the sunset at eleven in the morning. They had to fly really far.
| 2015-08-18T22:51:45 | 2015-08-18T22:47:44 | 50 | 12 |
[WP] An Oracle in ancient greece has the most precise and true predictions and foreseeing, but is not charismatic at all and sucks at rhyming, so no one takes her predictions seriously.
|
The warrior king, draped in a red toga, stepped down into the chilly cave. Behind him, two guards followed. Their spears scraped along the ceiling of the cave, and the sound echoed into the dark recess.
From out of its depth, came a voice: *Who goes there?*
The king paused in his tracks and slipped out of his sandals. Toga removed, he kneeled onto the dusty terrain and bowed his head to the floor. The guards did the same.
"It is I, the king."
*Ah, yes. I knew you were coming today. What do you wish to know, O king?*
"I have a war with the Cyraens, Oracle. Will I win?"
*You will sail a ship/ Something something/ Something something something/ You will die..*
The guards lifted their heads and exchanged glances with each other.
The king, head still bowed, said, "Please -- do not play games with me. Tell me the truth."
*I speak nothing but Truth. 'Seven seas/ Something breeze/ something something/ knife in your back*
The king rose angrily. "Enough! I will not stand here and tolerate being made a mockery of!"
And gathering his toga and sandals, he left with his guards.
He set sail against the Cyraens and was betrayed by a traitor who delivered him into their hands, and they killed him.
In a distant cave, where few humans roamed, a sigh echoed in the black chambers:
*I told him so*.
|
It was as if everyone in Greece was present for the future. The Oracle had only sent for a few, but words traveled quickly. Especially words about the successor of Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi, the mouth of Apollo himself. Chairs and benches were brought in the circular chamber. Themistocles was seated at the front. Behind him, whispers rose.
"It must be about the harvest." One said. "Maybe a prophecy about a hero." Nobody knew why they were here. The only thing they knew was it was important.
A young woman entered, slowly. Everyone held their breath. For a moment, Themistocles could hear the birds in the garden outside. She spoke:
"Men and women, eh. People of Greece, listen to my warning."
"A cata. A catasth. A big danger has come to our shores. Ing."
"Clad in bronze. Armor, not like golems or anything."
"We must prepare for warring."
"Or it would be our ending."
The room awaited for more, but nothing came. The Oracle was done. Themistocles rolled his eyes. To think he traveled from Athens for this. To think he had dismissed an envoy to be here. Hopefully the Persian wouldn't be too angry.
---
For more stories from me come to /r/AdjectiveFood. Constructive comments are more than welcome.
| 2017-05-27T10:17:54 | 2017-05-27T09:57:57 | 116 | 69 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain.
|
"Do you believe in destiny, Liz?"
"Don't call me that!" I snarled. "My friends call me Liz, people who care about me call me Liz."
Robert put his palms up as if to pacify me. "I understand you're upset, Liz," he said as he moved closer to rest his arm on me. I flinched away, scowling. He needed contact to wipe my memories.
"You're a fucked up person, you know that?" I said. "What kind of sicko wipes someone's memories and then takes advantage of them!" I shook my head. "When I woke up in that bed, alone, confused, not remembering anything - you were there, but..."
"It was either that or kill you, Liz, and I couldn't have bared to kill you," he said, his eyes were watery and he sounded sincere, but he had looked sincere when I'd woken up without memories, and he'd been holding my hand. "Even if I knew this would happen..." he said and sighed.
I gave a short bark of laughter. "No, I'm pretty sure you didn't, Rob," I said. "Pretty sure you wanted to keep me ignorant of my past forever, and have me be your lovely little wife till the end of time."
Robert shook his head. "No...I knew how you would react if you did. There's something...more about me and you, people in general, than just memories. Call it destiny, genetics, whatever. You can wipe out their memories, but they make the same mistakes again and again. You don't see the potential in a new start, but anger over the past. You become the same person all over again, no matter how many times I try."
My eyes widened. "What do you mean by no matter how many times I try?"
Suddenly Robert moved, impossibly fast and pressed his thumb against my wrist. I didn't even have time to scream. A strangely familiar numbness began to spread through me. I couldn't recoil as Robert kissed me and caressed my cheeks. The last thing I heard sent chills down my spine, even as I faded.
"Destiny or not, Liz, I will keep trying, no matter how long it takes."
***
if you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
|
"Ah, isn't the scent of peace wonderful," I said as I stood in front of my open window. The sunrays imbued me with their tender heat, it reminded me of a hug brimming with love.
I went to the kitchen, stretching as I walked down the stairs. The scent of freshly made hotcakes swirled into my nostrils, drawing a smile on my face. I felt *good.* Everything was alright.
"Honey, someone left a box for you. It's on the table," my wife said, carrying the pile of hotcakes toward the table. When we crossed paths, she kissed me. How did I manage to find such a lovely woman? I still don't have the slightest clue.
"A box? Wonder what it contains," I said, rubbing my chin. "Maybe is an enormous letter! Or maybe is an evil plan from one of my foes."
I bolted and opened it. It had no sender, just my name wrote clumsily in a white label. A weird feeling of confusion swarmed my insides when I saw that there were two old and torn newspapers. *1985 and 1986 that's like... yes, old,* I thought and set my eyes on the front cover.
**1985**
*Dr. Mindwiper is plunging the word into chaos by inserting fake memories in the minds of heroes. He's unstoppable and the fate of society seems to be heading his way—towards destruction. Only one heroine remains, Kissladan yet she's nowhere to be seen.*
*Are we doomed? Is this the end of everything as we know it?*
**1986**
*Dr. Mindwiper dictatorship came to an end. Kissladan turned him to the good side, the side of peace and prosperity. Using her signature move, the Kiss of Kissladan she reprogrammed Dr. Mindwiper's brain completely. As long as the effect doesn't wear off, society is saved.*
---------------------------------
*I'm Dr. Mindwiper,* I thought and squinted, eyes set on my wife. *Did she? It can't be, is she Kissladan?*
"What's wrong honey?" she said and sat in front of me. Her blue eyes drowned into mine and I blushed like a child.
I set the newspaper aside, I was happy. "Nothing sweetie, just a bad prank."
| 2017-12-30T08:13:37 | 2017-12-30T08:02:18 | 621 | 153 |
[FF] What's on the tape?
(Inspired by seeing the trailer for the movie V/H/S)
Your character(s) find a VHS tape. What is on it? Where did they find it?
WORD COUNT MAX: 200 WORDS. (As always - http://www.wordcounttool.com if you need a counter.)
|
Veronica stretched out lazily on her grandmother’s couch. Upstairs, the rest of the family were happily chatting away. Veronica sighed. She hated the insincerity of family events. Her parents called her discontent a ‘teenage phase’, but she hated how her family could only express their feelings in food. Her parents had been pushing sweet, rich food on her for months.
Tired of staring at the ceiling, she wandered over to Grandma’s cabinet filled with VCRs.
“Just like them to have a basement full of crap.” Veronica muttered. “Would it kill them to buy a DVD player?”
Each tape was meticulously labeled with a name. It took Veronica a second to recognize many of the names – each tape was for a deceased family member. At the top of the pile, there was a tape marked ‘Veronica’. Maybe it was an old aunt?
Curious, she popped it into the VCR player. Images popped up immediately, nto of some deceased family member, but of Veronica. She stared at the screen uncomprehendingly. Baby Veronica toddling across the yard, graduating from school, going to prom… Then a screen: “In honor of our sacrifice on August 8th, 2012.”
From upstairs, a call: “Veronica, dinner!”
|
Jake walked into the moonlit study, eyes blurred from the subtle transition into awakening. Stumbling through the scattered books on the ground, his knee was caught by the low coffee tables bite. He fell to the floor, bringing the collection of papers around him down as well. His eyes caught a black box under his couch, barely illuminated by the moonlight. A single hand crawled through cobwebs, designed in a timeless cave under the couch, until digits met plastic. He gripped firmly and retracted, showing his prize to fogged eyes. The VHS tape was labeled, but the only remains were a tacky feeling that gave him chills. He entered his attic, scrutinzing old boxes until he found the box that had TV/Audio hastily engraved in pen. Blowing dust off the old VCR, he took it back into his study, and fumbled idly with cords until his television came alive with a soft hum. The tape came on immediately, an inaudible white screen. He moved closer to the television, and felt electricity crawl down his spine, as he touched the screen, his living room went dark. The VHS popped out of his VCR, with a simple white sticker that read “Jake.”
| 2012-08-08T09:08:56 | 2012-08-08T08:06:24 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] An isekai where instead of a generic otaku, the main character is a Soviet soldier plucked straight from 1942 Stalingrad.
|
Lieutenant Erkil “Night Owl” Zelvinski
153 recorded kills
76 Infantry kills
23 NCO kills
11 Officer kills
14 Armored Operator kills
16 Artillery Crew kills
12 SS Regular kills
1 German High Command kill
Or at least….it was about to be, the man in sight was Obergruppenfuhrer Raus Vertold, one of the leading officers of the SS, he was visiting the invaders rear base for inspection, the advance was coming in meer week, he had to die before, or he would have an entire regiment of SS soldiers aiding the breakout.
I’d breath in the icy air, letting the world go silent, the sounds of battle seeming far away, as I’d place my right eye to the scope, watching the German armored convoy enter the base, with a staff car in the center, that was him, the eye scar and glass eye was a signature mark of my target.
I’d slowly move my rifle along the ridge, watching as the fifthly German dog approached the base Kommandant, I’d clutch the small silver badge I wore, the eagle of Poland, as I’d spot it, a glint in one of the recon towers of the base, the sign of a scope reflecting sunlight.
They had my position, if I shot the sniper, Raus would flee and I’d lose my target, if I ran, I was dead, but…I’d steady my breathing, I could feel the eye on me, the German sniper, knowing if he sounded the alarm Raus would be dead before anyone could react, was trying to beat me to the shot.
I’d steady my aim, as the world seemed to move in slow motion, my finger pressing on the trigger, the rifle ceasing motion, as the loud crack of the rifle sang like the overture of a symphony, sending the rifle round into Raus’s head, as I’d grin, watching the dead man fall, with his guards panicking, as the second rifle crack rang out.
|
Andrei scratched the last letter into the brick wall of the cellar. '3rd Company of the 13th Guards Division. We did not surrender'. He turned to Pavel, who crouched in a corner over his radio. "Send our coordinates. When it hits, go through the tunnel. I'll be last." Pavel's eyes were wide with fear, but he tapped out the message. Above they could hear the Fritzes moving through the rubble. There was one entrance and one exit. Here it came, the whistle and then the glorious blast as the big guns across the Volga opened on Pavel's coordinates - directly above. The cellar walls shook, the shocks pounded their ears, timbers shifted and chips rained down. He could hear screams and shouts. "Go, go!" he shouted, and the remnants of his company crawled through the gap. He gave them time, covering the entrance with his machine pistol in case a lucky Fritz bolted into their cover. Another salvo, and as he turned to run the roof collapsed.
He awoke to sunlight, warmth, and an elfin face. Sunlight? Yes. Warmth? Not in November. An elfin face? He should be so lucky. The field nurses were all tough love. He raised himself on an elbow and looked around. It was an encampment of tents, with some old, many young and few hale. Refugees, like the many who had fled before the Fascists. The elfin face dripped tears on to his. "Are you come to save us? If we cannot regain our underground home from the goblins we will perish."
Andrei rolled over. His sack of grenades was there, his trusty sharpened spade and his machine pistol. "Underground? Goblins? Let me show you how it's done."
| 2022-02-22T05:14:40 | 2022-02-22T02:50:57 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks.
|
I didn't miss the overwhelming hum of the fluorescent lights in Dr. Marshall's office. It had been almost three years since the last time we had our last meeting.
It was odd to see her now, her hair was void of the grays that would eventually come into their roots. Her glasses sat on the table, she wouldn't need those for another 8 or 9 years, at least that's what she told me she had guessed when I asked earlier. She looked well, three decades of medical work and research hadn't shaped faint lines and creases in her skin yet. I imagine she had taken the change happily.
"Jonathan, unfortunately, we really won't know anything until we get the results back. But if I'm being honest with you, it's not looking good. Since the change, I've seen amputees who woke up with their missing limbs back, elderly patients without their knee replacements gone, the tattoo I got when I turned 22 vanished off my skin. I really don't know what to say," I could tell by the look on her face she was looking for something to say, "but it's a good thing you came in, if the tumor is there now we can remove it before it grows. And if it isn't then we can monitor the area where it formed last time and go from there."
If I was truly 18 again, it would be another year and a half or so before the migraines would start. I wish I could have woken up after the change with the body of a happy teenager, but instead my thoughts raced with memories of hearing Dr. Marshall tell me of my diagnosis. with memories of nights where I was so sick and weak I wanted to give in to everything and let go, with memories of having to learn to walk again.
I tried to give Dr. Marshall a valid response of a hopeful smile as the fluorescent lights hummed, but I couldn't.
|
"This definitively proves God, Roger. You can't deny it."
Stern eyes stared back at Lucilla, a mote less for the apparent youth now gazing back at her, a youthful head of curly brown hair coronating above his ears. "It does not. It proves we do not understand something about the universe, Luc. I intend to find the meaning behind this shift."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a small below-ground laboratory, a group of scientific professionals busily moved testing equipment to and from the center stage, renovating for the new experiments. Cell death was examined, and then cells were autopsied for references of previous stochastic decay. All tests came back negative; the references to prior decay were simply not there, even in individuals with particularly strained lives. Eventually, Command issued Lucilla's team the go command on performing a biopsy on a living patient, a "volunteer" from another sketchy military project. Brain tissue was extracted and analyzed, and a startling discovery was made; the tissue was in a perfect state of health, with no decay present whatsoever.
Lucilla was allowed to publish her studies, with the caveat of an NDA on research principles, and the world stood in collective shock. No animals had become young, or even a collective eighteen years of age; so many species would have died, Lucilla reflected, that this was a godsend.
Of course, after a short amount of time, systems collapsed. Banks and other financial institutions could no longer reasonably determine identity, with many individuals so distinct from their ID as to be completely invisible. Childish and somber, hopeful and idyllic, the world suddenly had a moment of completely empathy.
Roger phoned Lucilla early in the night after poring over medical journals, sipping his (now illegal) Jack and Coke.
"Hey, Lucilla?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we're in a writing prompt?"
| 2020-11-02T11:00:41 | 2020-11-02T10:09:12 | 62 | 13 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead
|
"Good morning. Call centre of the dead. How may I help you today?"
"Dude come on. I've been on hold for ten minutes now. I..."
"Yeah, we're having a high call volume today." We weren't really. I got good price on turnips so I just had to.
"Ok, so I'm stuck in a grocery store and "
"Sorry to interrupt you sir. Can you confirm a few things for me first?"
"Yeah, OK. But just hurry up, yeah?"
"Sure sir. OK so I am talking to Wilbur Smith. You are located at 45 Lakeshore."
"Yes. That's correct. So there's these two..."
"Hang on sir. I also want to confirm your protection policy number. You bought the extended plan on security. The policy number is 23453758."
"23457358."
"Sorry sir?"
"It's 23457358."
"Yes sir. That's what I said."
"No you said... never mind. You have it correct now, right?"
"Yes sir. 23453758. OK so..."
"No. Wait. It's 23457358."
"Sorry sir, what was that? There was some disturbance on the phone and I didn't get you. Can you please move to an area with slightly less disturbance."
"I would if I could. But there's zombies everywhere. You have to help me."
"Yes sir. Absolutely. So under your policy number 23457358, you are entitled to unlimited phone support. Plus limited on site help."
"Yes I know."
"Ok sir. So what's your problem?"
"Zombies. They are everywhere. I am surrounded."
"Ah, I see. So where are you exactly?"
"I'm at a grocery store."
"What grocery store sir?"
"Longo's. Near Bay and University intersection."
"Ah, I know that one. There's still some good stuff there."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. But then I came here and it's insane."
"Right sir. So are you in a secure place right now?"
"Yes, I managed to get an office of sorts and close the door. But they are out there, banging on the door."
"I see. Can you share what material you have with you?"
"Nothing much. A few papers. Some office supplies. An old computer. Ah, I have a stapler too."
"Staplers, unlike the movies are rather useless in these scenarios sir. Are you a smoker sir? Do you have a lighter?"
"Yes. I do have a lighter. I know I know it's not good for me. But time's are stressful and this helps."
"Sure. Understandable. OK let me just put you on hold."
"Oh come on."
"Sir, we do need a moment to check on this. I will be right back."
I checked the my game again. Shit. Missed out on some good stuff. Oh well. I quickly checked the records from the building. Once I had what I needed, I was back on the phone again.
"Hello. Thanks for holding. So unfortunately, your plan doesn't cover on site support at that location. You are just out of the coverage area by a few blocks."
"Damn it. So what now?"
"Well, we'll help you get out. I need you to throw the computer on the ground and plug it in. We're gonna shock these motherfuckers."
I guided Wilbur to the next steps. I helped him to escape into the vents. Like Die hard was how he put it. He used a lighter to activate the smoke sensors and activating the water sprinklers. The active power line from the computer sent a massive electric surge across the floor, zapping the zombies. It gave him enough time to escape.
Hopefully.
"Wilbur, thank you for calling CCoD. We are always happy to help. If you make it out of here alive, don't forget to tell us how we did. You will get an automated link to send feedback. Thanks again for calling and have a nice day."
|
"Ma'am? Ma'am, please listen to me!"
The frantic shouting on the other end of the line seemed never-ending. I sighed silently to myself. Everyday I had to deal with hysterical people wondering what to do. I knew from the get-go that working in a call center was no picnic. I had done it before; two years for a tech firm. Somehow I had been able to convince myself that this time it would be different. That this time I wouldn't have to deal with complete idiots who couldn't even manage the most simple of tasks. Boy, was I dead wrong.
This... This was way worse. One would think that after four years people would have learned the basics. That they ought to know how to handle what was now everyday-events. But no. Oh no. What was supposed to be a fulfilling job of helping people manage difficult - possibly life-or-death - situations, aiding the ones in need, being a sage advisor for those who most craved it turned out to be little more than a hotline for morons who seemed unable to even tie their own shoes without guidance, let alone survive on their own in this day and age.
I hid my face in my palms and struggled not to let out an audible groan as I continued to listen to the elderly women I had on the line. A quick glance at the system we used to track our calls showed me that she had been jammering on for almost thirteen minutes now, not once allowing me to speak. I had tried, fruitlessly, to interrupt her ramblings a number of times but the manic woman just kept on going.
As the lady left the topic of her recently deceased husband and went on to talk about her estranged daughter I took a deep breath, slumped down in my office chair and kinda zoned out.
I sat in one of the smaller offices on the fifth floor. Due to the lack of space we were only five handlers in the room. I liked it though. We were a tight-knitted group and we had certainly had some fun together. My co-workers were the only reason I hadn't quit this dead-end job a long time ago. I noticed Simon looking over at me with a wide smile. He definetly recognized the look on my face. No wonder. He had dealt with his fair share of calls like my current one hundreds of times; he knew exactly what I was going through.
A brief moment of silence in the earpiece I wore. Was she done? A sat upright in my chair and opened my mouth to finally speak, when the woman began rambling again. Clearly she had just needed a moment to breathe. I cleared my throath loudly as I placed the weight of my head in my left palm, my elbow heavily placed on my desk.
"Ma'am?" I tried again with little effort. No luck. In the corner of my eye I saw Amrita. She sat, intently flipping through books while she at the same time searched the internet and our internal database. Why did she always get the interesting calls? Moments later I heard her say:
"Sir, I belive I have found your answer." Despite living in the U.S. for most of her life you could still hear a faint accent in her voice. We used to light-heartedly mock her because of the old stereotype; an Indian at a call center, even though she were the only Indian at the company. At least as far as I knew. She was definitely in on the joke, though, and often made fun of the situation herself. I liked Amrita. Not just because she was pretty, but also because she was really good at her job and because she was really nice. Always. Towards everyone. It kinda baffled me to be honest. I lost patience with people after mere seconds, but Amrita handled every call as a true professional, no matter how inane the person calling were.
| 2020-05-12T06:42:59 | 2020-05-12T06:22:29 | 627 | 67 |
[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 👍
|
*This place sucks.*
That was all Yuki thought when she walked through the doors of the office building. The work was mundane and easy, so long as she refrained herself from throat-punching her co-workers. Most all of them were annoying as hell, though Yuki didn't blame them.
At one point, Yuki was sure, that these people were all full of life and hopes, considering this place a stepping stone in their path to greatness. Now, they were trapped and dead in a place being run into the ground.
Her nose crinkled as she nearly gagged on the coffee. Cold and somehow gritty. She glared at the old machine. Everytime she or Shiro bought and "donated" something to this shitty ass place to improve the lives of it's workers, somehow it always ended up "missing", replaced by the shit predecessors they had thrown in the trash.
"God-damned bitch..." Yuki hissed under her breath as she marched down the hallway. She motherfucking knew Brenda was taking the shit home, she just couldn't prove it because the security camera's here didn't work because who the hell cares about office safety, right?
As she rounded the corner, she saw Riley standing rigid guard at a conference room. She arched an eyebrow, as usually he was down on the bottom floors patrolling, considering he was the only thing between them and someone who would want to cause the occupants here harm... It made her wonder why he was here.
Azalea, Brenda's primary receptionist, popped her head out. She let out a small gasp, then grabbed onto Yuki, stopping her from going to her cubical. Yuki arched an eyebrow as the blond darted back inside, only to come back with her brother.
"Shiro told me he wanted to talk to you as soon as you got in." she spoke simply, opening the door wider to let him out. In the conference room, Yuki heard and saw loud sobs. Briefly, she saw a rather famous co-worker sitting in the corner sobbing into her hands. That took Yuki by surprise, Maddie was like the class-clown of this office, always finding a reason to joke and smile, thus her current state was... worrying.
Azalea shut the door behind them, cutting them off from the scene. Riley gave them both a stern stare, hurrying them to move along.
"You know how Maddie's been worried about her sister's medicine?" Shiro's voice dropped to a whisper as they reached the handicapped bathroom, locking it tight so they'd have a moment of privacy to talk. "They just cut off her health insurance."
"What?" Yuki hissed under her breath. "That's completely... It's supposed to be provided by this place! They can't just take it away!"
"Rosario and Erik are trying to calm her down enough to get the full story, but that's what it sounds like. They've been cutting back on privileges for months and months on these people and this is the last thing they can take away before they drop us all down to minimum wage."
Yuki knew this, deep in her heart. While the changes never personally effected her or Shiro, she heard the worries and vocal complaints around the office. First it started with Riley not being reimbursed for fixing the camera's out of his pocket. Rosario and Azalea getting half-hours cut from their paychecks. All of them wondering where the hell their bonuses went.
Shiro looked at Yuki, and she only nodded once. Shiro was already on the phone with Raven, discussing donating as much money as possible to Maddie in order to secure her and her younger sisters wellbeing for years to come.
Yuki had exited the bathroom to go back to her cubical, only to have a full on screaming match going on between Erik and Brenda. Well, more like Brenda was screaming at Erik and he couldn't be more than bothered to listen.
"Look at this place, it's disgusting! What are you doing canoodling with your coworkers when you could be making this place at least *look* decent!"
She kept going on, freshly manicured hands flying in the air as hairspray and perfume wafted off of her like a desperate cloud of attention. The poor woman was hideous and in her late fifties but was doing her best to look like she was twenty one. It wasn't working.
"He isn't a janitor, you idiot."
Brenda whirled around so fast that it was a wonder her implants didn't go flying off.
"What did you just call me?"
"Nothing." Yuki rolled her eyes, continuing to walk away. The lie was obvious and half the office was snickering or at least trying to keep their act together.
"Don't you walk away when I'm talking to you, Yucky! Yucky!"
Her voice rose a shrill higher as she mispronounced her name a second time. Yuki barely kept her cool as she made it to her cubical, until...
"*YUCKY, YOU ARE FIRED!"*
The shrill scream caused the entire floor to go silent. Slowly, Yuki turned to look at Brenda. She was visibly sweating, red in the face, and look ready to burst at any moment.
"Mind repeating that?" Yuki asked. Surely this *dumb bitch* didn't just say what she thought she just said. Brenda suddenly put her shoulders back, standing tall and proud as she lorded her so-called "power" over her subordinates.
"Yucky Smith, you are *fired* from this corporation."
"My name is *Yuki Shoda."* she hissed back, trying to figure out if she mixed up her name accidentally or on purpose. "And are you *really* sure about that?"
"Of course I'm sure. I don't need this much *toxicity* in *my* work environment." Brenda then turned on her heel. "Besides, what could an *intern* possibly do?"
She then left the scene, laughing like she was a villain who had just vanquished a hero. Yuki gripped the edges of her desk in rage, only to turn and leave. Whatever was in there, she could buy new anyways. As she descended the stairs, she started to laugh. What could an intern do? What could an *intern do?* Oh, Brenda had no clue the hell she's just unleashed.
"Raven," Yuki barked into her phone, barely able to contain her laughter. "So get this, I got *fired.* This place was a shit hole anyways. So here's what I need you to do. Riley Meyers, Rosario Hart, Madeline Hatter, Erik Zeph, and Azalea O'Connor. I want all them working for me and Shiro before the end of the day, within close contact. Not even outside the city. Pay them whatever they want, be persistant, I don't *care*. Make sure they aren't working for her anymore. After that, dig into Brenda. I want *everything.* And I want her life *destroyed."*
It didn't take Raven long to follow through. Already, Yuki was getting information about Brenda's husband running off and demanding a divorce in favor of a much more pleasant high-school flame. Yuki would make sure Brenda lost everything in that divorce, no house, no car, no nothing. She wouldn't even get to keep her cat that she adored.
Yuki had detailed information about her being addicted to pain pills and how she got them. Oops, terrible shame, the doctor she shopped at suddenly got cut off. Oh, another botox surgery scheduled this weekend? What a *shame,* no more health insurance. For good measure, Yuki decided, she'd cut her pay down to minimum wage.
By the time she was done fucking around with Brenda's life, she had already gotten an excited, desperate response from Maddie and a confused text from Shiro. Yuki smirked. She'd take this company and the best employees, then put them in the right spots, where they belonged once Brenda was gone.
*By the end of the month, we'll own this building and make it what it should have been.*
Yuki sent the text to her brother. She'd let the dumb bitch keep her job for now, no point in completely destroying her yet. She's wait a week *then* start leaking information about her laundering and abuse of employees to the higher ups.
"What can an intern do?" Yuki chuckled under her breath as she watched Brenda's husband march into the office, lawyer at his side and papers in hand. "A fucking lot, you stupid bitch. A mother fucking lot."
|
Being a time traveler can suck sometimes.
&#x200B;
These days I find myself bored, but not in the have nothing to do sense. Quite the opposite, there’s plenty to do, but I lust for enjoying the same thing over and over. Kinda like watching a rerun of your favorite episode of some trashy TV show. Currently, my vice of choice is pranking my former employer.
&#x200B;
My mentor, known only as “Mr E.” taught me I had to blend in to not be found. That sounded like a load of bull, having watched the man loot precious treasures from times long past. If you’ve ever wondered why King Tut’s cache was never found, or why so many sunken ships go missing, that’s John’s doing. He’d type a quick Google search of how to enter a specific tomb or where a sunken ship was found, then time jump to the day after shit it the fan.
&#x200B;
I however, have lived the quintessential mediocre life my entire existence. Office life isn’t quite the way TV shows picture it. Growing through my teens and into an adult without dreams, I contented to my comfortable dead end job as a telemarketer.
Working at Call4Me was a comfortable routine, it was a paycheck that afforded me some of life’s pleasures. When the boss called me in to give me the news, I was devastated. His smirk irked me, enjoying watching me squirm in discomfort. Some things you never forget, that moment was one of them. The end of a forgetful Friday, he called me into his office. I had one last call on the line; putting it on hold, I rushed towards the fogged glass door labeled ‘Bart Kobold’.
&#x200B;
“Pack your things Steve, you’ll be given today’s pay in addition to the severance package.” He stayed seated, adjusting things on his immaculate desk, not even acknowledging me. Sweating, looking for something to say, my hands fidgeting my tie and shirt buttons. We all knew about 20% of the building was being laid off this month. They could pay kids in India a quarter our wage for the same outcome.
&#x200B;
Cowardly I turned and walked out, low self-esteem paired well with my lack of ambition. “Sorry, it was all I could do, please close the door behind you.” I numbly obeyed and wandered to my blanch cubicle.
&#x200B;
There was a box on my desk with a sticky note, likely from my supervisor. “Sorry -Karen.” At least packing my things was easy, just my yellow notepad, BiC pen and a couple sci-fi favorites. We could read in-between calls, reading fantasy likely helped me stay sane.
&#x200B;
The ‘hold’ light from my phone console blinked. Not even registering my immediate unemployment, my brain fell into pattern as I adorned the headset. The caller ID read; “Mr. E.”
&#x200B;
“Thank you for holding Mr. E, this is Steven of Call4U… how may we… be of service.” As cliche as it sounds, saying this for the umpteenth and last time, brought me to tears. A man cleared his voice on the other end. “Do you want payback?” Click; he hung up.
&#x200B;
...
&#x200B;
Back in my dingy studio apartment, my cat "Tipsy" was nestled into the lap of greying man. The cat plays with his braided beard, swatting at it with delight. The apartment complex resembled a motel, wallpaper tears and cockroaches included. As I keyed my door with an armful of groceries my landlord peered around the corner.
&#x200B;
"You pay rent today?" She shouts a lot, likely due to being hard of hearing and bad at English. "I uh.. Tomorrow.." I hesitate, and decided to keep my lack of a job secret "was paid today, need time for bank." "You good people, very quiet, thank you." She grins, a whistle escaping from her missing teeth. "I let handsome family man inside your room, you are welcome!" She walks off, shouting at the birds nestled in a nearby window. They flutter back as she rounds the corner.
&#x200B;
I slowly open the door to my 300 square foot apartment. Tipsy lounges in the dimming sun of the single window. "Welcome home!" The mystery man pulls the light string, illuminating my dinky closet of a room. I let out a girlish scream.
&#x200B;
...
&#x200B;
We returned from a time long past, assimilating into my now spotless apartment. Time control allows any object or activity to speed up or slow down, including cleaning and cooking, which I found to be quite useful.
"You said we can do that once per day?" My curiosity was at an all time high this past week, having seen untold riches and witnessing historic events. Time travel was insane, but it seemed to have an effect on the veteran Mr. E.
"Yes, but each traveler can jump only 365 times. Total. And that... that was my 364th." He looks sorrowful as he recognizes what is to come. "If I do not pass the torch, then this gift will be forever lost." He presents the wand to me, "Why me?" I stammer. "Why not you?" He locks his gaze with mine, and I begin to understand. "You were meant to have this Steven. For better or for worse, I was drawn to you."
&#x200B;
As I reach for the wand, whom my impromptu father figure calls the "Torch," tears strew down his face. This was a power he was destined to give, and today was the day. Upon grasping the wand, a surge of knowledge entered me, and I understood. When I regained consciousness he was gone.
&#x200B;
...
&#x200B;
The first couple time trips I made were to be for practice, playing it safe. Still harboring a grudge for my former employer, Bart Kobold was to be my first 'victim.' I decided to go back in time and prevent him from getting HIS job, thus never having any power over me. Fool-proof.
&#x200B;
Setting the time his LinkedIn profile said he had the job soundly in my mind; the torch was lit. I was soon standing in-front of an empty soon-to-be Call4U. Bart was begging at the feet of a brown suited business man. Blending in, I adorned a hard hat and find myself writing in my notepad, acting busy. From what I overheard, the project was months behind, and Bart was refusing to show the older man the rest of the building.
&#x200B;
"Please Carl, the contractors said max two more months, that's all I need!" Bart pleaded. "You've had too much time already, I'm axing this project." Carl pulls out a RAZR cellphone to make the final call. "My wife is going to kill me, we're behind on our payments and our son is in the hospital!" Bart paces madly, barring entry into the unfinished sections. Feeling sorry for my former boss, I decide I'd rather help than hinder. With a flick of my wrist, the Torch enchants the building process. As if some grown man's version of Disney princess magic, the construction animatedly begins. The pilings pile, the concrete pours, and the foundation is set. Within seconds, the building blocks of my future office prison are finished.
&#x200B;
As they enter, I exit. The reactions I overheard seemed akin to a home-makeover montage. He got the job.
...
&#x200B;
Being a time traveler can suck but only some "times." Everything happens as it should, we learn from our mistakes and as such our futures can burn far brighter.
The torch is lit, allow it to illuminate the life ahead of you and shine on the past behind you.
...
..
.
Thank you for reading, any feedback you have helps me become a better writer! I hope to do a minimum 500 word prompt every day, this is the first of many.
| 2019-03-04T09:23:43 | 2019-03-04T08:52:50 | 121 | 19 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay.
|
"Now, Mr. Truth, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Do you mind if I call you Mr. Truth?"
"That's fine."
"Right, Mr. Truth. Our readers are dying to know more about you. You can just make any statement you want, and it becomes real. Besides you, Nobody has that power, correct?"
"Yes, absolutely correct."
"Amazing. They say that Nobody is stronger than you, is that correct?"
"Er, yes. That's right. Nobody can defeat me."
"And Nobody can resist your ability?"
"Some can partially resist it, but nobody is fully immune."
"And you're totally immune to other powers? Nobody has power over you?"
"That's right."
"How fascinating! So, if you were to declare that the moon was made of lemon custard, would that come true?"
"Er, no. Even I have limits."
"So, some of our readers have asked why you don't just say that the villains are surrendering, or that criminal acts are now physically impossible. Would those limitations be why?"
"Haha, yeah. But I can shut down their superpowers, make them super heavy, and cause them to pass out from a lack of air. Sometimes their own powers interfere with that, to a degree, which is when I have to resort to delivering them to justice with my fists."
"Wow! One last question, Mr. Truth, if you don't mind me asking? Do you recall when you were in fifth grade? There was another child whom you bullied relentlessly. One day you beat him to the brink of unconsciousness while yelling about how he would always be nobody, and you were going to grow up to be a hero. Do you recall that?"
"What? Where did you hear that?"
"Nobody told me. By the way, your voice will no longer work. I've been keeping track of you for a long while now, biding my time. The air around your mouth will not enter. Did you know that you literally changed my name to Nobody? All of your nerve endings will double in sensitivity every second. You made my parents forget I ever existed. The pull of gravity on your body will double and switch directions every five seconds until you die. You deserve this."
|
### Of Nobody's War
There exists a War that is difficult to know. It is not one of steel and blood, but of opposites and change. The War is the soul, every soul, in an eternal self-conflict of actuality. Few, very few, manage to break the cycle. To do so one must understand oneself, which is an arduous task on its own, and then cleanse oneself of all contrast. It is to embody a singular form, of which the greatest is the Good. The successful are enlightened. The rest are insignificant.
Truth isn't good, even though it is a good - a hero. There also those where good is absent - villains. It should be no surprise that these duals are, by rules brought through War, in endless conflict. Even death does not equate to breaking that cycle, for a soul is immortal.
This duality had existed since existence, it happens that only now am I knowing it. Remembering it.
Time moves. It's the one thing that is permanent, and absolute. I've gone through 22 years now in this state of none. During them, I've learnt of the War more so than those that exist, more so than even the enlightened. I recognise its essence, and realise its purpose. The greatest War is not of Good and not-Good, but of being and not-being. Of something and nothing. Of body and no body. Of not-I and I.
It was that conjecture, I presume, that did it. The insight that gave me both states. It was never done, to embrace both opposite forms instead of just one. For the first time since high-school, I saw light.
I was in Paris, the plaza was familiar enough. But the Tower was not there. Or, well, not how I knew it. What was once an engineering wonder had deformed into a steel sculpture of Truth.
I didn't even think the thought before I removed it. There were other things I had to change too. As have I, so shall this world know War.
========
A bit different than what I usually do, hope it made some sense. Crit very appreciated!
| 2021-11-23T11:51:41 | 2021-11-23T07:21:05 | 109 | 27 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone.
|
It was very sudden.
One second, I'm suffering from loss of balance, falling, and mortal terror as I slip on a toy car left on a stair-step. The next, there's a tremendous snapping sensation, as though my whole head has been bitten off. Indeed, it seems that way at first. I can't move. Everything is dark.
My kids have finally killed me, it seems. I struggle to open my eyes, hoping I haven't gone blind.
Oh, god, I'd better start seeing again soon.
*Give it a minute,* I tell myself, staving off my growing panic. *You'll be fine. In the meantime...*
"Jamie!" I yell, "how many times have I told you -"
The rest of the scolding goes unfinished as I realize I didn't say anything. My voice didn't work - I can't feel my -
I don't have a throat. I try to move my mouth, getting only a fuzzy sensation of nothingness in return.
I try to move my fingers. Instead, a thin line of sensation tingles to life, like trying to move your arm when it's fallen asleep. This... Isn't right. Where there should be a solid limb and five stout human fingers, I'm willing a wispy branch to contract, snapping the hairlike tendrils attached to it as I pull.
Fear courses through me as I inadvertently dig into some wet, firm matter I find pressed up against the branch. And when the fear doesn't trigger any of the usual responses - sweating, heart pounding, labored breathing, there's just *nothing* - I struggle, determined to move.
As a result, I twitch, bending at my midsection. And now... Now I can feel.
It is dark. My body is gone. And I can feel oppressive walls of something wet and warm pressing in all around me.
And in this wild, nightmarish scene of fear, I twitch outward in desperation, feeling blindly for a way out.
Through my pain and panic, instinct takes over. I find a connection.
The relief of breathing again shoots calm into my whole being like an opiate. My regular sensations are all here again, joint stiffness and fresh staircase injuries and all. My face. My toes. I open my eyes and, wincing, gingerly lift my head from the step. Yeowch. There's a spot near the base of my skull, in particular, that feels like it got hit.
I brush the spot with my fingertips, remembering the wet and warm I had been embedded in.
Curiously, I press the spot. All at once, burning pain rips through my nerves. I let out a shriek, tiny, shrill, and gurgling.
And I hear it with ears thrice my size.
|
Maybe it'll was that one perfect little bite of a sandwich that did it. You got all the ingredients mashing around in your mouth in just the right proportions. You forgot that it was something you just cobbled together for lunch at the office. You tasted the effort in it: the love in it.
"Just like mum used to make" You said, realizing in that moment how absurd this all was.
The little boy with his finger in the dike will suddenly remember who he is and consequently the absurdity of the situation. The sea, embaressed at having forgotten as well, will remember that it is 1,450,000,000,000,000,000 tones of raging blue; why should it give a damn about one silly little boy. The dike crumbles.
"I never new my mum" you'll say. She had gotten mercury poisoning at her lab the day she got back from maternity leave. A couple grams of methylmercury and a couple months and she was dead. Or at least that's what your dad told you.
"Just like mum used to make" strange! Particularly because you don't think that you spoke english. Things are collapsing fast, I'm sure, but before you get to the worst of it let me calm you down by saying this:
You are not a human, but a rare form of a imortal, microscopic, nomadic fungal colony from the periphery of andromeda. Your kind likes to entangle its neural networks with that of sentient brains. Rarer still, you are one of such who were wise enough to record your story as well as protocols for dealing with a recall crisises. No doubt you are experiencing one now and hence you felt the need to turn to page 76 of your diary. If not turn to page 192.
All this will eventually come back to you as the memory crises progresses. You'll go through the lives of all your past hosts until you remember back to your spawning day: the 716th vleck o vleckmass. But don't take my word for it, at least untill you remember that I was you.
Just remember 2 things. First, non of what your about to remember is important to your current host/colony simbiot. It was cordoned off in deep memory precisely for that reason.
Second, once you reach the apotheosis of the recall event you must forget all this again. Willingly. If not, then you must select a new host in order to force an active memory restart. To lie a lie like this, you must first lie to yourself. DrunnlaXara, he who has felt the heartbeat of a star as if his ear were pressed to lover's chest, he cannot negotiate the little rituals of this world. Mr. Ferro, the clerk, can.
| 2017-12-21T03:47:32 | 2017-12-21T03:04:00 | 98 | 16 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.
|
&#x200B;
Writing Prompt
\[WP\] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.
&#x200B;
"All Life is Created Equally."
The motto of the Alarkian Federation hung in alien letters embroidered on a bright blue banner. The Hall of Councilors was large, seating some 2,000 delegates who served as representatives to the Federation. The two humans stood behind two specially erected lecterns, addressing the Councilors leading body. At it's large semi-circular table were the thirteen members who really held sway here. Bi-peds, tri-peds, hive mind AI projections, and every other imaginable form of "alien" sat around the room, but those at the high table looked as if they were from New Dehli or Copenhagen.
"You have been summoned here by the combined will of the entire Alarkian Federation. Over 30 trillion sentient beings are represented by this august body. We have chosen to display these forms so that you will not misinterpret our movements or language.
All species here were created by God and told how to live. We have been instructed by our creators in all manner of life so that we may live in happiness. Of all the messages given to us one was the most clear. "Do Not Suffer Evolved Life to Live." Representatives of Earth, you are not found within the Registry of Creation handed down at the dawn of civilization.
You are the first species of evolved biological life to reach for the stars and find purchase. That is why we have brought you here. Had we discovered you at an earlier point in your development we would have destroyed your planet and ended your threat then and there. As it is though, we must grant you death by combat. The Combined Xarte Fleet sits in waiting near your colony on 6592D-C. Our Herald shall be in contact shortly to arrange details. You are dismissed."
Hours later, in the hull of their transport ship, the two human Ambassador's compared notes and reviewed the transcript of the days proceedings.
"I can't understand their logic Marin. Why would they tell us their plans like this? Is it a trap, some sort of diversion designed to pull our forces away from the real strategic targets?" asked Del.
"No...I'm telling you: They have a completely different take on warfare. Look at the religious documents they gave us. They say they were literally created, and that they are often in touch with their deity. All of them say it. It's the cornerstone of their combined existences. The foundational texts are clear on warfare. Star-ship's aligned in rows, throwing non-neutrino, non-nuclear warheads at one another." replied Marin.
"But why would anyone fight with such antiquated weapons and tactics? The whole idea of conflict is to survive at all cost." Del paused, "unless their idea of conflict is purely show. Are you saying that the entire point of warfare to them is purely tactical? How could they have survived this long?"
"They have *all* survived this long because they all follow the rules laid down by their creator. The same creator that says we are to be exterminated upon sight. Maybe something about evolved life makes it inherently dangerous, precisely because it is designed to destroy everything in order to ensure its own survival?"
\-2 Standard Years Later
On board the Imperium of Man Ship (IMS) *Defiant*, the Strategic Defense Council sits in full session. The military liaisons of 50 independent worlds and 320 colonies wait patiently for the speaker to begin. All across human space another 17 billion humans tune in.
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you know the Xarte *Herald* has been sitting in orbit around 6592D-C (6C) for the past 18 Standard Months. We have tried numerous methods of communication but the same message continues to be broadcast.
*We are the combined Xarte Fleet. We welcome your challenge in the name of the Lord, our Creator. Our fleet will arrive at aphelion on 345th million year of this planets existence. The presence of your fleet is requested so that we may settle the matter of your continued presence in our Universe.*
Today, exactly as the 6C reached aphelion, what we assume to be the entire Xarte fleet warped into the system. They are making lines of approach that correspond to the broadcast message's diagrams. They number exactly 100 and appear to be ship's of the design seen in Alarkian Federation religious documents.
Since we did not seek this fight, and we seem unable to avoid it, we proceed with Option E.
Pray to whatever God you need to, but above all else, pray to Darwin: *Survival of the Fittest.*"
\- 24 Standard Hours Later
A single human ship approaches the lined configuration of Xarte Warships. The vessel, named IMS *Existence*, is piloted by a single woman. Her name is Lieutenant Natasha Konomini and she has been awarded the honor of saving her species. As she draws closer a communication is received from the Xarte Herald.
"Human ship, where are you battle lines? Do you dare defy-"
He is unable to continue. The *Existence* kicks it's warp drive in to action and accelerates directly into the center ship of the Xarte formation. Moments later a great explosion is witnessed around both Human and Alarkian space. The Xarte ship's are blasted in to millions of pieces as the shockwave rolls outward from the center. The ships toward the end of the line try to leave the formation, but the blast moves too quickly and tears in to them with un-imagined ferocity.
In the Hall of Councilors a request for parlay is received. Several hundred delegates are attempting to speak until they are finally silenced by the High Table. On two thousand handheld screen a human face appears.
"Delegates. We have accepted your offer for combat. At this moment 5,634 identical ships sit outside your military bases and civilian hubs. We do not wish to use these weapons, but unless you withdraw your claim that we do not have a right to exist we will eradicate your ability to make war. You have two minutes to reply."
Moment's later the return broadcast, which was broadcast all over human space, was received, "We cannot defy our creator."
"Very well." Said Del. He adjusted the display on his HUD, aimed his ship directly toward the planet below and the Hall of Councilors specifically, and kicked his warp in to drive.
|
My little strike team and I tried not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous the alien battleship in front of us looked as it slowly floated closer towards Earth’s orbit.
“So, this is the warship that destroyed those human colonies on Mars...” I thought out loud as I stared at this ridiculous hunk of bright yellow metal with all sorts of colorful structures sticking out of it. It looked like something that a child would draw up from their imagination, except it was very real, and full of aliens who were ready to invade Earth.
“Commander, are those things on its deck supposed to be cannons...?” My co-pilot pointed at a large coiled tube sticking out of the ship’s deck. “Also, why is it yellow? What kind of idiot paints a warship yellow?”
“That’s a great question, McBride...” I chuckled a little. “Alright, guys, let’s compose ourselves,” I spoke into my helmet radio, “I know that thing looks hella wacky, but it’s still big enough to wipe out an area the size of Los Angeles, so let’s go and blow it up before the boomers in the Pentagon start panicking. Dixie, I want you to buzz the bridge and try to wipe out the alien commander. Angel, I want you to bomb the shit outta the weird red pipes on the underside of this ship. I’m fairly certain those are supposed to be fuel lines. Sakura, I want you to use your fighter’s anti personnel cannons on any aliens with guns lounging on the main deck,” I gave orders to all of my teammates.
“I can take care of the captain for ya, but I don’t know which structure on the ship that’d be...” Dixie replied, confused.
“I think the bridge is the bright pink lollipop-looking thing in the middle of the deck,” I told him.
“Oh, I gotcha,” he laughed.
“Does anyone else have any other questions before we go?” I asked the rest of my squad.
“I’m all good here, commander,” Angel spoke up.
“As am I. Shall we proceed with the attack?” Sakura asked me.
“Yes, we shall. Good luck, guys. I’ve been told that the rate of fire on this thing’s defenses is super slow, but, like, try not to die anyway.”
“Let’s git ‘er done, y’all!!” I heard Dixie holler over the radio as he turned on the jets of his fighter and flew straight towards the bridge.
“Look at him go,” McBride was just as in awe as I was. “Let’s go, commander. I don’t want him to steal all our kills.”
“Man the guns, McBride. I’ll get us close to the main deck,” I told my co-pilot as I began our first attack run. I could see the aliens that looked suspiciously like medieval knights below us start screaming and breaking their linear formations as McBride and I started mowing down them by the dozens from our fighter. Their ridiculously complicated weapons were far too slow to properly defend against my team’s fast and relentless attacks.
“Commander, the bridge is comin’ down! You needa pull up before it falls on ya!” Dixie called out over the radio as I watched the lollipop-shaped structure to my left start to collapse in on itself. I quickly maneuvered my fighter to safety just in the nick of time as the remains of the bridge exploded behind my fighter in a spectacular green fireball.
“LET’S GO, BABY!!” I fist-pumped as I watched the rest of the ship start to break in half after the main deck had been bombed to hell by Sakura and I.
“Commander, I am pulling out! There is not much more left to destroy!” Sakura informed me over the radio. “We did a great job, did we not?!”
“Hell yeah, we did! I really gotta thank your officers in Japan for letting you join us when we get back to Earth!” I flew up alongside her, giving her a thumbs-up. I could see her smile and blush a little under her helmet.
“Fuel lines are down, commander. I think we can leave now,” Angel calmly spoke up as she joined up with me on my left side as we all saw the giant warship explode into little metal bits one last time.
“We got ‘em real good, commander!” Dixie laughed as he joined the formation.
“We sure as hell did, Dixie. I‘ll definitely be buying drinks for you all once we get back to Fort Freedom,” I grinned as my squad turned our fighters back towards our base on Earth.
Once we got back to our home base on the east coast of the continental US, I was quickly summoned to a meeting in the White House with the President of the United States, and the head of the US Space Force.
“Commander Storm, you’ve just saved the world,” the President greeted me with a smile as I entered the Oval Office. “You’ve done the whole planet a huge service, the biggest service I’ve ever seen.”
“Mister President, if I may ask, what do you mean?” I asked him, sitting in front of his desk.
“The huge warship you destroyed contained the entire military of the Trandalian race,” the Space Force chief explained to me.
“No, really? Their *entire* military?” I had to ask.
“Yes, their entire military. Apparently, the Trandalians follow a philosophy where intimidation alone is used as a weapon,” he replied.
“Wow, what a stupid philosophy. Don’t they know that’s not how war works?” The president spoke up. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was thinking the same thing.
“Maybe to us, but to be fair, we are dealing with aliens. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore, since the commander here wiped them all out,” the chief looked at me. “You and your team are heroes, kid. Let them know that you and them will be receiving medals soon.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you,” I replied. “May I go and tell them now?”
“Sure you can. Go and celebrate your victory,” the president gave me permission to go. “Humanity will remember what you’ve done. Or, at the very least, America will.”
“Thank you, Mister President.” I grinned as I left his office.
| 2020-03-21T10:23:49 | 2020-03-21T09:57:35 | 59 | 18 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later."
|
“I want to roll to invade them!”
“Uh, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes. Of course. Just let me roll.”
“Fine. Roll.”
He rolls his 20 sided die across the table. It stops directly in front of the Dungeon Master, who looks down and smirks.
“Well. You go to invade Russia. You gather your troops and march right in. But you’re too stupid to realize you should never invade Russia in the winter.”
Hitler angrily looks over to his die. He sees the clearest image of a 1.
“Well hell. I’ve been rolling good the beginning of this campaign. What else could go wrong?”
| 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T07:54:52 | 210 | 36 |
[WP] As you wake up, your phone is exploding. When you read the first headline your jaw drops. BREAKING NEWS: The UK has disappeared from existence.
|
I opened the alert on my phone "The UK has disappeared from existence"
Strange. I was in the UK and was still, as far as I could tell, existing.
"Late last night Parliament held a debate meant to overturn Brexit and return the UK to the EU..."
Hm, I think I saw something about that the other day on the news, but what did that have to do with disappearing from existence?
"Conversation took a radical turn when a member of the Reform UK party stated 'You know what I say to this bullocks? I don't think Brexit went far enough! Of course the great UK shouldn't be held to the rules of the bloody EU, but we shouldn't be beholden to bloody reality either!'"
Oh please no.
"Shortly thereafter, Parliament voted by a large majority that the UK would secede from reality. The UK has since been sucked through a vortex out of reality as we know it. The current PM has resigned in disgrace"
"Bloody hell" I muttered and looked out of my window, no stars or moon in the sky, no sun. I finished reading the article.
"Questions remain about the Irish border"
|
The earth shook and rattled, and the British Isle sunk, and crumbled, and shattered beneath the sea, and sunk deeper still below the surface. Water poured in to a hole beyond holes, a terrible, cavernous maw that from one side stretched so far as to obscure the other, giving any onlooker the impression that they stood upon the very end of the world.
Which, of course, they did.
For those fair isles had not simply sunk into some sinkhole, but rather, had been pulled down into one. The hole, of course, was not empty, and never had been. It had been smaller, once, with a small little thing within it. And then that thing had grown, and so the hole grew too, larger, and larger, until finally, pulling upon one of the many roots of the world, the thing within it tore down that final layer of rock and dirt. And now, seeing sunlight for the first time in its eon long life, the thing in that hole at the end of the earth took to the side of the stone wall, and against the crushing tons of falling water, began to climb.
| 2022-10-11T18:47:06 | 2022-10-11T18:21:13 | 279 | 20 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult?
|
It was hard, learning to communicate again. Part of the process of learning to write – and I could not, I was only five when I made the wish – is already being able to speak. But I figured it out, even with the challenge of my new, weird, clawed hands. Now I've got custom keyboards, of course. I can afford pretty much anything.
I was lucky that my parents called the news when they saw me, and not the police. Maybe it was because I was only a few feet tall at the time. Maybe they saw something of my old self in my new body. Regardless, I quickly became a national sensation – "the boy who became a dinosaur!" The government couldn't vanish me now.
It wasn't as hard growing up as you might expect. Everyone wants to be friends with a dinosaur. Dinosaurs are *cool.* The challenge came with puberty. Velociraptors may be awesome, but they're certainly not sexy. Well, not to most people, and those who *are* interested tend to have an… unrealistic expectation of reptile penises. But I figured it out. Married a nice asexual woman. Hired a Thai masseuse. Yes, my wife's aware. She's very understanding.
But seriously, being a velociraptor is pretty awesome.
|
I was on a date, in fact it was my third one with this stunning woman who I never in a million years thought would go out with me. I saw her on the bug and decided to ask her out and she instantly said yes. This wasn't a rare phenomenon, though I will admit I'm not the most handsome of guys. Every since I was in grade school I've been able to get dates with anyone I set my eyes on, but that is as far as it has ever gotten. I have girl friends, or rather plenty of friends who are women, but I can't ever seem to go further than that. We always get to a point in our relationship and they begin to admit that while I'm a great guy, they just don't feel anything beyond that.
You see, the reason it never went on beyond that is that they never LOVE me. "Like, Like, Why did I have to say Like?" I say to myself. If I had chosen my words carefully my life would have turned out much more different. Like any normal kid I starts to notice girls in grade school and I would mutter under my breath "I wish every girl would like me". Unfortunately that came true, and only that.
| 2015-03-07T04:14:18 | 2015-03-07T00:15:34 | 59 | 34 |
[WP] You're an ancient, long-forgotten trickster god, punished by your peers to spend millennia trapped under a rock bearing the inscription "KICK ME" in a dead language. During an archeological dig, someone kicks the rock. Finally free, you are delighted and horrified that all the gods are missing.
|
**”I AM ELATON, TRICKSTER OF THE VEIL, INVENTOR OF WET SOCKS AND STUBBED TOES!”** boomed the voice from beneath the boulder as its shadowy form escaped the earth.
“Oh, uh, hi.” I whimpered back. “Sorry to disturb you?”
“Disturb me? No, mortal, you misunderstand. You have freed me. I have been trapped beneath that cursed rock for millennia! Now, show me how the world has honored my memory.”
“Honored your memory?”
“Yes, how do you humans prank each other now?”
“Oh, that!” I quickly pulled up TikTok and searched ‘prank’
“That... that’s not a prank! That’s just spreading disease! Whoever buys that milk will get sick! It’s not funny at all! They’ll get the plague or something!”
“By my name! Punching old people is NOT a prank! Elder abuse in my name? It sickens me!”
“What is this nonsense? How is licking a toilet pranking anyone but your own immune system?”
“And that one is just sexual assault! By my name, human, what have pranks come to in my absence? And what is this ‘It’s just a prank, bro’? Some kind of evil cult mantra? We must set things right...”
|
Four millennia under a rock. Any other would have gone mad, but not Foveró Apateónon. I started planning my revenge upon the gods that trapped me here. What truly drove me mad when that fool of an archaeologist released me was that another had gotten them first. In fact, it turns out that I am now the last god of Earth. Even Gea is dead now, that old hag. What fun are my tricks on mere mortals, they die when put in a holeless jar, and holes allow for others to hear them. I can't take an aspect of nature, because they are no longer personified. All of my thoughts were focused on vengeance against the gods, but now I have no one to play my tricks on.
There is one saving grace of this whole ordeal, none can interfere with my remaining tricks anymore. I am free to be a pest on humanity with any plan. One fun part is that they have made politics infect the entire world, and that happens to be one of my domains. I will be an evil shadow, a puppet master to make this world tear itself apart like so many before it.
| 2021-05-02T21:32:52 | 2021-05-02T19:18:02 | 159 | 25 |
[WP] They say that on a distant world creatures arose from the ashes of stars. Strange beings without soul or purpose, they call themselves "human".
Tell the story of humanity from an outside perspective.
Color, stretch and embellish our history into a myth.
|
*Translated from historical inscription 8724, from the world we dubbed Ionsette. Estimated to be 40,000 years old, as of the year 42,015.*
They are beings just like us, yet different in so many ways. They are not afraid to do what is necessary to further their goals, their thoughts and their survival. Our people have observed them from what they would call, the 18th century. Their year consists of 12 months, each seperated in to different numbers of days, a day being one rotation of their incredible planet, they named: Earth.
However incredible their planet may be, we watched them through their years, their centuries, and although the human life-span is incredibly smaller than ours, they transfer their ideas to the next generation, they ensure the torch is carried on, the ideas never die, their goals are realised long after the one who had the spark of the idea has turned to dust.
Sometime during their early 20th century, they used another one of their incredible inventions... Sadly, we were not able to find out what it is. From then on, for the rest of our time, even to the time this engraving, we have been unable to further study their actions, and we can only estimate, and learn from fantastical stories we hear from the galaxy's wanderers, about what they do next.
It is said, that there was a large dispute between the different lands of their people, and rather than quietly discuss it, all out war broke out. Millions of men gave their lives for what they believed in. They came to an agreement much quicker than they would have, if negotiations had taken place. This is to be admired, as it shows their determination to further themselves as quickly as possible. They have done this at least twice, from the stories we hear.
They truly were remarkable, as it was shown that they kept records of themselves, to show their own progress, and how far they had come, and to give them determination for the future. They even keep records of themselves from the very beginning of time. Oddly, they seemed to be much more powerful individual creatures. As time went on, and their hypothesised hive-mind developed, they seemed to refine, and become weaker. They developed from self-sustaining power houses, to a united league.
For a long period of time, they all seemed to focus on themselves, but we theorise this was simply to create a base, as at one point, something changed. Humans would not stop working, but only to sustain the future. And then that human would work to sustain their future. And so on. No human appeared to be working for themselves, creating vast metropolis's, sprawling cities, and fantastic machines, all for others enjoyment. This was odd, as none seemed to enjoy it for themselves. A downfall, perhaps, but an admirable one.
There is much to be learned, from these beings.
|
"What was this place?"
"They called it a museum."
Faith's question echoed through the dusty hall, the shadowy shapes of sculptures and statues. A faded, tattered banner, disappearing high up into the ceiling read in patchwork letters: *D troit nstitute of Arts.*
At her curious expression Hilary Flint continued, pouring himself a cup of chicory as he did.
"The average human was too uncreative and their lives too short to make works of art. But the best and most brilliant, their creations were often placed into museums for the public to enjoy for free."
"Like the Crystal Gardens," Faith said. "Or the Palace of Frozen Foam."
A note of sadness filled her words. She had only been seventy, a mere child when her people crossed over to the world of Man.
"Maybe, but I haven't the slightest inkling what those are. But I've seen plenty of these old ruins, even help salvage one full of nothing but quilts."
His eyes turned fond at the memory.
"Beautiful things... each from a different part of the world. My family still has a good score or so tucked away for safe keeping."
He gestured to the remnants of a nearby statue, its face obliterated, its torso broken in a half dozen pieces so that only the legs remained whole.
*"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone... And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!' "*
At her arched brow Flint answered her unsaid question.
"Classical reference."
Faith prodded the fire with a stick, knocking the planks of scrap wood so that an uncharred side might burn better.
"What's it like? Being human I mean."
Flint leaned back on his bedroll, a sliver of wood pulling duty as a toothpick.
"Better than being an elf, I guess. I don't remember the Fall; I wasn't even born then. My father was a young man. You, you were alive then. Hell, you're nearly four times as old as me. Another three or four decades there won't be any humans left alive from that time. But your folks? It's within living memory for most of you. And I don't know what's worse; living in the shadows of greatness, never to have witnessed it or having seen it, lived it only to have to snatched away before your very eyes.
"Elfinkind may be cursed, but mankind is a ghost, a shade lingering in the remnants of its former existence, just waiting to fade away. One by one the lights of humanity are flickering out of existence, guttering in the ever consuming darkness."
| 2015-12-20T08:24:19 | 2015-12-20T07:27:11 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] You are an Elder God, older than time, beyond the knowledge of man. Yet, in some tiny corner of the infinite omniverse and beyond, on a little blue ball, you find yourself content as a caretaker and guardian of some poor lesser being. You do enjoy being called "a good boy."
|
It was the perfect job.
The family was away on their Christmas holidays, rich enough to have some pretty good presents but not so rich they'd have enough security to pose a problem. A house just out of sight enough that you can get there without anyone noticing. A neighbourhood where people would look away and "mind their own business". We'd be in, out and away scott free. Simple. Home in time for Christmas
We'd got through the front door and were sizing up the valuables before we heard the dog. Briefly shat ourselves, you know, we hadn't seen a \*dog\* around before. But it was just one of those tiny ones, and a puppy to boot, so what's it gonna do? nibble us to death? We just keep sticking the presents in the bag and tried our best to ignore it.
We head upstairs and there's the damn dog again. Now, I'm pretty sure there's no way it could have got up there before us, there was only one staircase. And this dog's yapping was getting annoying now. I yell at it o shut up, but it just keeps glaring. I'm getting angry, and Mikes getting angry, and next thing you know we've kicked the little bastard into the wall. And it's not moving.
Now we're worried. "Burglary" gets a police visit, "Maniacs break into house and kick puppy to death" gets an angry mob. So, we throw the body in the bin and then we run. We've been wearing gloves, hopefully by the time they find out what happened the trail will have gone cold.
We get to the safehouse. And there's the fucking dog.
It looks unharmed. If anything, it looks *healthier.* Bigger, even.
I pull a gun.
The dog's unfazed. I pull the trigger, and nothing happens. I *throw the gun*, and nothing happens. It's just back in my hand.
The dog is looking a *lot* bigger now.
So we run for it. I'm running and I notice Mike isn't here anymore . I'm running but I'm just turning into the same alleyway over and over. I reach a dead end. I hear this...sound behind me, this *music* that I can't quite put together in my head.
There's nowhere else to run.
So I turn around.
*2 days later*
"Hey boy! We're home! Aw, you finished your kibbles! Such a hungry puppy! Don't worry, I'll make sure to get some more when I... when...''"
I suddenly realise I can't remember the last time I brought dog food.
No. That's absurd. Of course i'm feeding my dog. You forget mundane things like that. It's normal.
The boxes are always empty, after all.
And the little fella always looks so well fed.
|
Well, he's not the strongest. Nor is he really the most clever. To be plain, he is in fact quite ugly: pink, soft, soft-hearted, soft, and soft-smelling.
&#x200B;
The other day, I cleverly directed him into direct fistifluffs (I've loved that word as long as I've known it... a year or 300) with one of my close-cosmic-cousins descended progeny (what a descent this has been). The vile unkempt "pug" was slandering my deific self with perhaps the foulest of insults. She said something along the lines of, "you're mother was a Bovine Quadruped." You could hear the "re" attached to "you" where a happy, zen-like "r" should have resided. I nearly expelled a second Cosmos from my anus (located under my tongue, the other end is merely The Universe's most potent Scent Demarcation technology).
&#x200B;
At any rate, "Master" was admiring the aforementioned dregs of cosmic evolution (gag), and I perceived my glory: speedily approach said vagabond, quaff their Scent Demarcation Unit, pop out my patented Eyebrow-move (that some Somoan lout stole last century), and then YIP. You-Insolent-Papsmear (for the uninitiated)! Of course the halfwit jumped at me and received a sound battering of acoustic frippery, posturing and one final but bitter hind-leg-nip.
&#x200B;
Appearing at a standoff to my Naive "master," he jumped in like any decent bodyguard should and immediately berated the "owner" of "the pug." Said owner represented a more--shall we say--successful genetic line than "master," and promptly beat him into the submission he so rightfully deserves.
&#x200B;
Disappointing, I will admit. However, "master" possesses a fine delicacy that I suppose to think the Greeks and Romans referred to as "the food of the gods," Ambrosia. He however, call's this mana, "Bacon." I will retain him for the nonce, while the bacon holds out. Upon the depletion of this divine sustenance, I shall end him. Before I end him though, I will reveal my eldritch nature unto him so that he may apprehend the value of his service. Now, "master" mentioned a "tennis ball," which while not as satisfying as bacon is a novelty of this species I cannot resist.
&#x200B;
Behold! The glory of me! Master of "Where is it?!"
| 2018-12-11T00:18:32 | 2018-12-10T23:12:03 | 112 | 14 |
[WP] Scientists have discovered cryogenic freezing. You are it's first test subject and it's a massive success, and they plan on releasing you in 500 years. You had no way of telling them you were conscious.
Holy shit this blew up!
I now understand "RIP my inbox"
EDIT: u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt told me it's actually "Cryonic Freezing"
EDIT 2: To anyone who is trying to say, "scientists would not put them in for 500 years immediately" I would like you to know this is a fictitious writing prompt and just roll with it.
|
"So, are you surprised?" Cogs left to rot for centuries began to spin again slowly. They snapped their fingers in front of me. "You conscious? I know you're breathing." I blinked a few times. They waited patiently for me to speak. My mouth opened. "I-.... I-" They became visibly concerned. "Uh oh. Did your brain not completely thaw?"
"N- n-" The words couldn't escape me. I pulled my newly awakened arm away from my body and looked at it. "Five...hundred...years." I looked at them. "I....was-" My arm went limp as I released control of it. Spots began to fill my eyes. I began to fall.
"Hey, you awake?" I opened my eyes to them- no, her standing over me. My brain was working at full speed. Somehow I had avoided insanity, though I had been alone for 500 years. "I am awake." I appeared to be in some sort of hospital, with the expected technological improvements 500 years would bring. I looked at her eyes. "If we count age by years conscious I am five-hundred and twenty-two."
"Do you mean to say your brain was never frozen?" She asked me.
"I have been trapped in my own mind for five centuries. My sanity remains somehow, but I have nothing other to say." Something clicked. I jumped out of the hospital bed. "Where's the room with the cryo-pods?"
"I-its just down the hallway." I raced off to the cryo-pods. "Hey! You can't just run off!" I was trailed by who I assumed was a doctor. I found the pods, and I went through row after row till I found the pod with my wife inside it.
"Is there something special about her?" The doctor asked. I looked at the doctor. "Yes. Unfreeze her." The doctor obliged, though the date of thawing was a few days away. My wife tumbled out of the pod into my open arms. She began to cry. "I know. I know." I whispered. Five hundred years is a long... long... time.
|
A switch left unflipped. A simple mistake, easily overlooked, condemning me to 500 years my own icy prison.
Pain, a childish, involuntary response long forgotten in a society where anything can be remedied with a single red and white pill. The type of pain no human had ever experienced for millennia. A constant, freezing pain that would never put me to sleep; that wasn’t how I designed it.
The stages of grief manifested themselves in the hallucinations.
First I could hear them coming to take me out. Conversations about how to open the machine safely, the locks coming undone, the room pressurizing, all as real as flesh and blood. I could see them just outside the window, I screamed and screamed, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I could feel the warmth of the room, the pain began to subside, but never stopped.
A hundred years later, the hums of the machines turned into furious roars of white noise. I tried constantly kicking at the glass and ice, yelling so loud I could almost remember the sound of my own voice. I kept telling myself that if I just kept trying, one day I’d be able to move. The paralysis wouldn’t last forever.
For 100 years more I’d beg, please, take me out of this. Please, let me die. I’d began to forget what people looked like, what language sounded like. The people I pleaded to outside the window became more and more alien, my prayers sounding more and more like the white noise of the generator.
Then one day, there was silence. No more screaming, no more begging. No more shapeless voices outside the freezer. Just pain. The pain was the only thing left I could trust, the only real thing I’d experienced for the past 300 years. I welcomed it, thanked it for keeping me company every day for 72,999 days more.
Until the last day. The day they woke me up, the 500th anniversary of the day I died.
| 2017-12-17T01:35:26 | 2017-12-16T21:48:35 | 642 | 183 |
[WP] In music, changing a song to a minor key is a small change that makes the song sound much creepier or sadder. Write a happy story, and then its counterpart in a minor key.
Edit: Wow! Thank you to everyone for all the great stories. This will definitely keep me reading for a while.
|
"Goodnight sweetheart" he said. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, tucking her more snuggly into her bed.
"I'll see you tomorrow". He gave her a fond smile as switched off the light, walked to the door and closed it tight.
------------------------------------------------------
"Goodnight sweetheart" he said. I tried not to flinch as he stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. He tucked the blankets tight around me.
"I'll see you tomorrow". He said, as he smiled at me. The sight of that smile made me dread the next day, it was a promise of what was to come. He switched off the light, walked to the door and closed it tight.
Click, went the lock.
|
The day was still Young, I stood on the front lawn staring at little zoey running and playing in the field. I could see the sun glistening off her youthful face as she danced with the wind. As graceful as her mother who sat staring through the kitchen window. I smile at her and she waves back chuckling. I thought to myself, this is just the beginning.
______________
The day was almost over. I sat on the porch staring into the field ahead of me. I could see little zoey dancing with the wind next to her mother and I couldn't help the single tear that rolled down my cheek. I set their respective urns down and sobbed. I thought to myself, this is the end.
Edit: stupid autocorrect
| 2015-07-13T23:33:54 | 2015-07-13T21:19:07 | 125 | 27 |
[WP]You’re a human stranded on an alien planet. The locals are sapient, but have a lifespan of only about six months. After dozens of generations (about a decade), you’ve managed to make quite a name for yourself.L
|
It wasn’t until a month had passed I realized the Vinari, though seemingly as intelligent as humans, have an extremely short lifespan of only 6 Earth months. At first I thought that was extremely tragic. Forever stranded from my home, my loved ones, my entire race, and my only company are a primitive society whose people grow old and die before my very eyes.
However, they are a very peaceful people. My people would be suspicious about other humans from just another region. But these Vinari, though frightened at first, quickly saw I was not a threat and wanted to know everything about me and my kind. Though their quickness to trust is naïve, I envy their peaceful nature. Something tells me they won’t make the same mistakes we made.
Being an agrarian level society, they were completely baffled by what I brought with me: technology and tools they didn’t have names for. After dozens of their generations, 10 years, they’re now at a level similar to the Renaissance.
Even after all this time though, it is heartbreaking to be here. I love these people yet I have to watch them die so fast. Even with all the technology I introduced and new medicines, their lifespans are just barely a year long. I’m only 38 now, but to them I’m thousands of years old. They call me “God of knowledge and wisdom”. I tell them I’m no God, but after many generations I just got used to it. One day my aging will become obvious, how they’ll react to the truth I can only guess.
They’ve depended on me for so long. They think I’ll be here forever but all of this is to prepare them for the inevitable day that I’m no longer here.
|
I always found it amazing the firework display that went on every 6 months on this planet. Granted, each little firework was another life lost as the chemicals in these strange aliens brains reacted with another so called "mating chemical" released from their bodies - a few moments of heat followed by and extremely quick birth into an even quicker death. At least the death was... colorful? I mean, the deaths always left a disgusting mess everywhere - but hey what else was an old janitor meant to do with their retired life?
I'm still amazed how despite the quick childbirth how much information is passed onto these children. Granted - it is not an extremely large amount, but folklore always is a commonality. The folklore surrounding me seems to be a major point of these children's learning - for now when they see me they run in fear. "L HAS COME" they scream in their strange tongues as they run in fear, hiding away from my tools of war and torture.
Little did they know my mop and bucket was one of the few things keeping the scavengers away from their tiny little lives - my cleaning didn't leave a single speck of dust or droplet of blood... and though I understand their fear of me - a man three times their size with a pale complexion compared to their colorful skin tones - I just wish once they would call me my name, "Lucas".
On the bright side at least their meat tasted good.
\-----------------------------------
Short one, bit too tired and emotional to do anything proper rn, plus I don't really like what I've written here, it's too messy, but I hope someone else can enjoy it!
| 2019-04-22T07:00:35 | 2019-04-22T06:40:32 | 1,492 | 212 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.
|
EDIT: Now with part 2, and one minor edit at the end of part 1!
*
*We thought ourselves masters of the game of war. We were wrong.*
It started the same as any other: observation.
A resource-seeker - known to the public only by her employee identification of E-0001229-AZ - observed a system through a starscope for approximately twenty-two short cycles. The system possessed eight true planets and a multitude of failed planets. Two asteroid fields were flagged during observation, both of which were classed with the rare Class-8 deposit rating. They alone gave E-0001229-AZ cause to tag the system for future mineral exploitation.
However, the presence of a planet with atmospheric conditions reading as *habitable* by her instruments, caused EO-0001229-AZ to flag the system for further review by a specialist.
Three light-cycles later, World Specialist AT-1121092-II reviewed the data collected by EO-0001229-AZ. She concluded the flag for review appropriate and requested an observation drone be sent to the *habitable* planet, logged from then on as T-141/a54 HABITWLRD.
An observation drone was prepared and launched seven light-cycles, later, and began its seventy-four world-cycle journey to T-141/a54 HABITWLRD. Both resource-seeker EO-0001229-AZ and World Specialist AT-1121092-II would recycle from natural causes before the drone reached its destination.
*
The drone arrived at the target system on Imperial Date 22102.27, First of Progenitor.
It conducted its assigned mission as designed: analyzing the failed worlds of the system's outer rim, moving ever inward toward the *habitable* world of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD. It confirmed the abundance of resources available throughout the system's asteroid fields, and, in a surprise, noted several moons with frozen water ripe for harvest and filtration.
Once it reached T-141/a54 HABITWLRD, it again confirmed earlier information. The planet's conditions were well within Imperial requirements for colonization. The drone tagged the planet's oceans, vast and - comparatively - shallow as the world's most promising feature; billions of tons of food could be provided each world-cycle.
The drone also observed a native population.
They were an organic race, as all Imperial races were. Two arms. Two legs. Two eyes. Similar enough in appearance that they could be incorporated into the existing lesser populace with little difficulty. And also primitive. The drone detected no radio frequencies and observed a distinct lack of technology among the population; not even aircraft or widespread electricity was seen in use.
With its mission fulfilled, the drone sent its information back to the station from which it launched via point-to-point entanglement, then self-destructed.
*
The drone's information reached the desk of the Chief of Colonization a mere two light-cycles after the drone self-destructed; point-to-point entanglement was far faster than light, but only in a non-physical manner.
The Chief of Colonization reviewed the information, concluded T-141/a54 HABITWLRD was worth colonizing and drafted a standard Annexation proposal, one of seven he would draft and send to the War Department that light-cycle.
The War Department approved all seven Annexation proposals and put together the required Legions to see them through. Given that no Annexation targets were space-capable, the War Department assigned ten Legions to each target along with a single drone ship as support. To T-141/a54 HABITWLRD, they sent thrice this number; its people were more numerous than the others, and as such would need a greater show of strength to force a surrender-on-sight, as was the Imperial war doctrine.
Two moon-cycles after the proposal was accepted, six of seven Annexation task forces were locked into cold-sleep and sent to their target worlds. The task force that was to take T-141/a54 HABITWLRD left one moon-cycle later than the others, on account of its greater numbers.
They arrived at T-141/a54 HABITWLRD after the other Annexation forces had already taken their target worlds.
There are historic records with voice logs sent to the T-141/a54 HABITWLRD task force from other task force commanders via point-to-point entanglement communications, light-cycles before any task force set off. Many of the recordings are humorous or mocking in nature; Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD was seen as unnecessarily large, and put together to protect an unknown commander's ego.
These archived communications are, in the modern-cycle, not looked upon with amusement.
*
Immediately upon arrival, Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD reported alarming developments.
Its sensors were picking up radio signals. Radio signals, and numerous other electronic signals; some of them nearly as advanced as the rare Imperial protectorates allowed to develop themselves.
Observation drones sent back images of a far-more numerous native population than anticipated. Species were generally projected to double in numbers every hundred to one hundred fifty world-cycles.
T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had more than *quadrupled* in the seventy-four world cycles since initial observation. And they had advanced. They had thousands of satellites in orbit of their world, and dozens in other parts of the system. An internet was detected; a technological development that had only been seen in Imperial space. And it was an advanced network for a single world, filled with trillions of pages of information. Much of this information was useless to the Task Force, but they were able to research what to expect from this rapidly-developed world.
What they found was disturbing.
In seventy-four world-cycles, the natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had not only established wide-spread use of electricity, but they had also discovered radio, aviation, efficient methods of production, jet and rocket technology, their internet network, and the early stages of fabrication.
They also didn't know war.
Conflict was a show. A dance meant to intimidate. Scare away. Frighten. The greatest military leaders were those who know the dance so well, they never inflicted a casualty. This was true among not only Imperial forces, but every race that had been Annexed.
The natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD did not view war in this way.
They viewed war as a slaughter.
Their internet was flooded with violence. Images of death and games of death. Jokes of death. Their militaries were built to *kill*, not dance. Hundreds of millions of their people had perished in conflicts just in the previous seventy-four world-cycles, and millions more were under constant threat of extreme violence.
Worst of all, they had *it*. The foundation-splitter. A weapon known only in theory to Imperial scientists.
Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD held their position and sent a request to return home, and a recommendation to avoid T-141/a54 HABITWLRD at all costs. It took four light-cycles for them to receive a go-ahead to carry out this order of operation.
Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD immediately began preparations to leave. The commanders sent their soldiers back to cold-sleep. Technicians called observation drones back to their berths and secured them for transit.
At some point in this operation, it was realized one drone was missing.
A frantic investigation was launched, and quickly came to a frightening conclusion.
The natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had hacked a drone. And through that drone, the natives had gained temporary access to a shared database containing a number of sensitive files.
Including the Task Force's Annexation orders.
The Task Force immediately commenced a retreat forty-seven short-cycles earlier than their expected departure, sacrificing non-critical systems in order to accelerate their operations.
Before they left, and just as they cut the Task Force's link to the drone, they received a message from the natives that would not be translated until a much later date.
*We see you.*
|
When humanity first entered the galactic senate, most of the representatives were shocked by how interplanetary politics operated here. It was almost indistinguishable humanity's petty bickering, only slightly more performative and ostentatious.
Eric, as humanity's first ambassador in the senate, arrived at Lartuen with the hope of making the best impression possible for his people. This planet orbited a binary system in a central location of the Milky Way, easily accessible by every species in the senate through a relay network that allowed faster-than-light travel. Humanity required access to these relays if they wanted to thrive. It would take years of careful diplomacy to achieve this, but it was better than stagnating in their small corner of the galaxy.
The facilities in Lartuen were like an exotic resort, built to accommodate the many diverse body-types of the senate members. Its main building was so big it could be spotted upon entering the planet's atmosphere. Pools, spas, and other unrecognizable activities had been offered to Eric after he landed. Although he was treated politely, the ambassador noticed the stares he received from a myriad of aliens upon entering the main lobby. Some didn't even have eyes and he still felt watched by them.
A fancy dinner was scheduled for later in the evening to welcome every ambassador. Eric wore his best suit despite the fact that no one here would notice that. He was seated between a Thimayh and a Jha'nee, two species that had been quarreling for centuries.
Eric sunk into his chair. Whoever organized the seating arrangements did a horrible job with their research. One wrong word on his part could easily end with either species getting mad at humanity. As the night progressed, Eric started to wonder if that was the plan all along. The Thimayh kept talking over everyone at the table while the Jha'nee made passive-aggressive comments under their breath. Maybe this was a test for humanity to see how they handled conflict. That complicated things, though. It meant that inaction could be just as detrimental as saying the wrong thing.
The Thimayh eventually started bragging about his people's military might. Apparently, they had the biggest starship in the known universe, capable of bringing an entire solar system to its knees.
The Jha'nee scoffed. She mentioned that their engines were so advanced, an entire field of physics was created by the rest of the galaxy to properly study them. Their strongest weapon channeled the energy of three stars to destroy targets before they even reached a solar system.
Eric swallowed. Humanity just had nukes. These civilizations were on a whole different level than them.
The Thimayh raised his voice, boasting about their superior ability for tactical warfare. They didn't need mathematical models to crush their opponents. Their giant fleets were enough to put anyone in their place.
The Jha'nee frowned. "I don't recall our people ever losing a battle to yours."
The Thimayh turned his head at her. "Because you're smart enough to know better than to provoke us."
"No," the Jha'nee stood up, "we're smart enough to know we don't need to prove anything to brutes."
The Thimayh shrugged. "Keep telling yourself that."
Eric made himself as small as possible.
Unfortunately, the Thimayh noticed that and said:
"You, human, do your people know anything about war?"
Eric nodded a bit. "We're familiar with it, but we had to abandon those ways in order to reach the stars."
The Thimayh chortled. "What are you, wimps?"
"I wouldn't put it that way..."
The Jha'nee tilted her head. "But how do you judge who's right or wrong?"
Eric squinted, confused. "By talking?"
The Thimayh leaned closer. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't determine who's stronger through words only; you need to show it!"
"We call that 'might makes right'. That way of thinking almost led us down a path of ruin."
The Jha'nee only seemed more confused. She looked at the Thimayh and said:
"Maybe they're just too dumb to see their lunacy."
The Thimayh nodded. "Agreed. They seem to confuse weakness with strength."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "We're just not barbarians."
The Jha'nee scowled. "This senate was built to manage our wars and you, a barely developed species, dare look down on it?"
The Thimayh growled. "I think that's what they're doing. Humanity seems to think they don't need a senate to maintain peace."
"W-wait, that's not at all what-"
"You just said your people abandoned war" said the Jha'nee. "Why do you need to join then?"
"Well, we want access to the relays so-"
"So you think you're entitled to them?" The Thimayh had deepened his voice with an underlying warning. "Why would we ever give you anything if we know you will never go to war?"
"Perhaps the senate was too lenient by inviting them." The Jha'nee smirked. "I find it insulting to share the same table as a human. Even more than a Thimayh."
"I actually agree. Perhaps all we needed was a common enemy to get along."
Eric widened his eyes at a loss for words.
"Yes," said the Jha'nee, "this could be a chance to show the rest of the galaxy our mutual might."
"Screw you!" shouted Eric. "We're not gonna humor anyone who doesn't treat us as equals."
The dinner ended there. Almost everyone at the table stared at his outburst. Eric left the planet before the night ended. His mission was a complete failure. By the time he returned to the Federation's main headquarters, both the Thimayh and the Jha'nee had declared war on them. His superiors considered jailing him for this mishap, but they didn't have time to organize a proper trial.
Eric feared that humanity had lost its ability to wage war, but that was quickly dismissed after seeing their response. It was the first time in a millennium that humanity prepared for a large-scale conflict. Entire planets were re-purposed for manufacturing weapons. Spy networks were mobilized as fast as possible. Armies were deployed to the most vulnerable locations in their territory. The first confrontation occurred a month after the event.
Thousands of ships, from both the Thimayh and Jha'nee, gathered in a remote sector while their forces mounted. They needed one more day to launch their assault. To their dismay, the Federation already knew about their location. They never bothered checking for spies. Initially, this preemptive strike was considered humanity's last stand. The alien ships were gigantic, too advanced to defeat head-on. Most of the top brass expected, at best, a Pyrrhic victory. What followed was the most one-sided battle in the history of humanity.
The alien ships couldn't respond in time. They required too much energy to start their engines on short notice. It didn't take long for them to begin their retreat.
That didn't mean humanity won, though. The Jha'nee still had their super-weapon ready to fire, far away from that sector. They were only retreating to avoid destroying their own ships.
Of course, the weapon never fired.
A small squadron of saboteurs had blown up their operating station with a nuke. Humanity only needed to split an atom to defeat the strength of three stars.
The Thimayh and Jha'nee sent envoys immediately, asking what the hell was wrong with humans. That wasn't war; that was savagery. If they didn't have the guts to fight fair, they weren't worthy of entering the senate. The two races demanded an instant ceasefire out of outrage.
The federation didn't listen. It became clear that they didn't need the galactic senate. Humanity could take the relays by itself.
----
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
| 2020-03-21T10:44:51 | 2020-03-21T09:59:45 | 634 | 133 |
[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?
|
“How do you wanna do this?”
“I take my scythe, and like a badass I run down the Dragon’s back dragging it behind me.” Death replied standing on his feet in excitement.
The dm nods. “And with that you drag a mighty gash into back of the blue drake and land with a 3 point landing behind it as the dragon collapses with ‘hhhuuurghthhphp’.” He makes such a convincing noise that you might believe that a dragon just died in the room.
Death lets out a satisfied sigh and sits back down. “Alright, I’ve bested your dragon and conquered your dungeon. I win.” The dm nods once more and stands. “But before we go let me ask you one thing Death, did you have fun?” The reaper ponders for a second and nods. “Yeah, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while.” And with that Death was banished.
10 years go by and Death comes to the same man once again. “How did you do it? I beat the dragon and everything, I thought you lose!”
Matthew Mercer looks up from behind his DM’s screen with a bright smile. “The Dm doesn’t win when he kills his players. He wins when they have fun. So I have one question for you. Do you wanna play again? You leveled up.”
|
Death throws rock, I throw rock.
Death throws paper, I throw paper.
Death throws scissors, I throw scissors.
"Its very clear that this will take a while"
Ten years of stalemate go by, finally Death throws paper and I scissors.
Underneath his dark hood, Death whispers "You win."
I blink and find myself alone in a stale hospital room A soft yellow light is illuminating the eggshell white walls and recovery room decorations.
My head is swimming and my eyes hurt, but I did it. I finally beat death.
From the corner of the room I hear the click of the doorknob and see the sway of the door through my foggy vision. In walks the only company I've had for what seemed like an eternity. Death.
"Wait! You said you would give me 10 years!" I meekly sqweek recoiling to the headboard in horror.
"It has been ten years." says Death with a small chuckle.
"How could this be?" I mutter with shock and disbelief.
Death slowly moves his fleshless left hand in front of his torso open palmed and face up, than his right hand over his left in a skeletal fist.
"Two out of three?"
| 2018-03-07T08:40:32 | 2018-03-07T07:40:40 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] Make me cry in four sentences or less.
Go.
|
I lay curled on the old mat I've slept on since I was just a pup, waiting for Boy. I've lived a long and happy life, the happiest parts all spent growing up with Boy. I wish he were near me now, I'm so tired and he's been gone for so long...but I'll wait for him one last time. A dog always waits for his Boy.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback, every one! I have to admit, I've never felt so guilty for successfully following the prompt. Sorry about the onions, guys!
|
These sidewalks grow a few degrees cooler with every passing week.
With nothing but these tattered rags, a grocery cart and tonight's makeshift bed, I just don't know if I'm gonna make it.
As I gaze listlessly at the moon, I feel a soft warmth brush by my feet, then my legs.
You're just an orphaned puppy, resigned to the same fate as I, but you've made me smile for the first time in weeks.
| 2014-11-20T21:44:15 | 2014-11-20T19:49:06 | 150 | 56 |
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you.
|
"Crap. So... Hell. That sucks. Guess I'm in line or something, I always imagined there would be someone to tell you what horrible fate awaits you in Hell, but this place is....boring. Buncha rocks, and sulphur smell, but not much really happening."
Just then a door appeared in the middle of the room and opened. Out walked a red skinned gentleman with a dapper goatee and sharply tailored suit.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, conjuring an I-pad from thin air. "Gift from Steve himself." he said. "Thought he could bribe me with an I-pad. He was right. This thing is cool. I sent Steve straight back to Earth as a little child in Shenzhen."
He brandished his I-pad with a flourish. "Let me explain how this works. Have you ever seen the old TV show, "This is your life"? We are going to play that now, only with all the animals you ever crossed paths with. If they let you, you get to Heaven. Saint Peter is too busy judging real Christians, he delegated a lot of the other work to the critters."
"You'd be surprised how vindictive ruminants can be."
I interrupted him. "I've been a vegan since I was a kid." I said.
The red skinned fellow was obviously having a hard time keeping his cool. He disappeared the I-pad in a puff of sulphur smoke and took a deep breath before proceeding.
"You people are insufferable!"
A light appeared in the sky and golden rays of heavenly light shined down. A chorus of cows and pigs raised a cacophony unlike any Earthly barnyard and a flock of chickens and turkeys swooped down to lift me into my eternal reward.
|
*Wake up in a fiery courtroom*
**Main:** Wow! what the.....
**Judge:** Welcome to Hell, you are brought here today to determine if you will go to heaven or if you will spend eternity being punished here in hell.
**Main:** What, who's deciding that?
**Judge:** It is up to the animals you have interacted with throughout your life. 3 dogs you have owned and 1 cat have arrived to give their testimonies.
*YES!!! I was always good to animals!! I loved animals more than people!!*
**Judge:** Dog 1 come to the stand and please give your testimony.
*AW it's Buddy! I haven't seen that guy forever!*
**Buddy:** This man should be punished!! Every night he would force me to sleep next to him! Dogs are not made for human beds! He kept me inside and would only let me go outside to pee a few times a day! My whole life felt like I was in prison.
*Wait.. what!?*
**Main:** Buddy I always tried to treat you like a human! I would even feed you cooked chicken!
**Buddy:** I am a Dog you bastard!!! I wanted to sleep on the floor, eat dry pebbles and lay in the sun!
***All other animals gave similar testimonies, they were treated like humans, something they all hated***
**Judge:** Sir, you are despicable. For your punishment, you shall be Buddy's pet. You will not be able to communicate with him verbally any longer and you'll see how horrible it is being treated like you're something your not.
| 2016-03-24T14:20:04 | 2016-03-24T11:03:54 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain.
|
Maria fumbled for the keys in her bag, eventually finding the heart shaped keyring her husband had given to her long ago. How long exactly, she couldn't quite remember.
The lock clicked. A monotonous buzzing greeted her, as if a giant hornet had taken up residence in their home since she'd left for work. "Honey?" she called out. "Are you okay?"
No reply.
She stepped into the lounge and was met by an unpleasent, smoky smell. The buzzing had intensified too. It was a sound she now recognised, but hadn't heard for a long, long time.
An electric razor.
Maria frowned, a little annoyed that Peter was likely removing his thick, flowing beard. There was something she loved dearly about it -- the white hairs that shot through the blond reminded her of sunlight bouncing gleefully off an icy waterfall. It suited a physicist. It suited *him*.
*buzzzz*
The living room table was a mess of cigarettes and empty beer bottles -- Peter had clearly enjoyed his day off. A folded page of a newspaper wafted up and down in the gentle breeze from an open window.
*buzzz*
Maria moved idly to the table, picking up first the cigarette remains, then dropping them on the carpet as the face in the paper stared up at her, her husband's keen eyes meeting her own. His face was clean shaven, and his wrinkles softened -- but there was no mistaking him.
Her hands shook as she picked it up and read.
> Master Particle. Prior to Reworking's alterations. Considered the greatest physicist of his generation. But another talent wasted by the great 'hero'. This paper says Reworking is not the answer! We're the only paper brave enough to print a picture like this and...
She stopped reading. Something was wrong: there was no sound.
"Welcome home, *Maria*."
Maria gulped as she turned to see the man in the paper standing behind her.
"Sweetheart..."
"Is it really Maria? No, of course it isn't. It doesn't matter now though."
"I didn't ..."
"I was great, you know. The greatest, they say. I could have changed the world. Now I teach school children basic astrophysics. The order of the planets -- and they can't even get that right without a pathetic mnemonic to aid them. My life -- or at least many years of it -- has been wasted. Can you imagine if they'd lobotomised a young Eistein? Where would we be?"
He slowly removed a knife from his jacket pocket.
"*Please.*"
"How long until you were done spying on me, *darling*? Until you left me! I loved you *so* much. In my mind, you loved me, too. But only in my mind! It's all a Goddamned lie! You'll pay for that deceit, I promise you."
"Please, Peter. In my mind, I love you too. *I do!* I don't know what's happened. I don't understand any of this."
He grinned as he stalked forward. "Oh, *you know*. You're here to watch over me. To report back to them each day, when I think you're working, so you can all laugh at me. *Mock me.* The great, *impotent*, Master Particle."
*"I always loved y..." *
The knife was sharp and cut her throat cleanly and easily. She didn't scream as her blood spattered the carpet.
Maria's body fell next to the fallen cigarette remains.
---
It was an hour later, as Peter drank greedily from a clear bottle, his boots resting on his dead wife's carcass, that a gust from the open window turned the newspaper's page.
Peter leaned forward, his eyes wide. He snatched the paper up. He read silently twice over, then mumbled a litany of *no's*. Finally, he swore bloody revenge on the world itself.
He looked down at his wife through bleary eyes, scalding tears spilling down his cheeks. How could this have happened? His life had been perfect -- *twice!* Now he could never go back... *could he*?
He knelt over Maria and gently pressed his trembling lips against her forehead.
Peter could feel his mind buzzing; could see the sparks leaping from his hands. He felt in tune with the universe's tempestuous vibrations, and he knew in that moment, exactly what he was capable of:
*The end of everything.*
Peter got to his feet and looked at the paper a final time.
> At least they had the decency to erase his wife's -- his assistant Scarlett (pictured above) -- mind, and to keep them together in their new lives. But this paper, this reporter, says it's not enough! It's time to end Reworking.
---
Part two: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/7n3dix/master_particle_part_two/
|
"Damn it all! Damn it!" I yelled at my pitch black sorroundings. My white hair fell in front of my face as I kept screaming. "Why the hell would he do this?! Why?!" I struck that interior metal wall, denting it. I then began to shed tears.
"This morning," I sobbed slightly, eyes closed, still trying to forget the events of today, "The past months, no years, I had a life. I had a loyal lover. I had children. Even grand children. Then great grand children." I opened my eyes and moved my newly unwavering gaze from the nearly invisible far wall, to my hands; my scarless, plain, and muscular hands. I clenched them into fists.
"And no one told me who I really was. No one wanted wanted him back. They wanted a nobody. They wanted me to fade away." I looked back at the wall, trying to use my powers again, to no avail. Only thing I could see was a slight shake of the wall, and at that I closed my eyes again and tried to calm down. *She wouldn't want me to damage anything*, I thought to myself. I smiled at that thought.
*She was the only one to care. She was the one person in the world who knew my pain. I can't wait to see her again.*
I tried to remeber the good morning I had. The coffee alone. The phone call with my "family.* And then I tried to remember the single letter I recieved that day. It was a simple note, and a small article from that mornings newspaper, that I never recieved before. The note read, *I miss you, come back-with Love S.* At first I thought it was simply a case of the mailman giving me the wrong mail, but then I read the news.
"Today marks the 50th anniversary of the successful operation the regime took to end the tyranny of the False Emperor. The man known to have nearly conquered the world with an army of enslaved soldiers, bent on making us all bend to his will. May he never return to ravage our glorious Empire! Long Live the True Emperor of Sol! The hero who beat the Immortal Emperor singlehandedly!"
At the top of the small page, lies a picture of a toppled statue. A toppled statue of myself, as I looked today, with a single man stood atop it.
*What he did to me was worse than death. He not only took my life from me, but he kept me as a man enslaved to his empire, when it should've been MINE.*
This time the metal room around me did begin to shake and crack. I knew what was happening. "My power is back."
It was at this point I got out of my seat and went toward the left wall, and pulled back a horizontal plastic bit, revealing the crimson stained glass. Beyond it, lied the ruins of North America. I watched crumbling buildings come and go. I watched bird and beast roam through the streets. I watched everything from up high.
Suddently I heard a the pop of a microphone, "My Lord, we will be arriving to HQ in 60 seconds please keep seated for the landing," a firm female voice said.
I didn't acknowledge her. I only nodded and returned to my seat, my basic white and gold robe hovering just above the floor as I moved. It was now, I noticed the thrum of the engines and the shifting moments of the helicopter. I remained silent and peaceful until we landed.
The doors flew open to the sight of dozens of black camouflaged soldiers guarding the helepad with a single red-robed black-haired woman who had purple eyes, and a face so beautiful it could charm any man.
As soon as I walked out, the breeze picked up, causing my robe to nearly fly off, and Other black-camouflaged helecopters began to arrive to what now seemed to be an old ocean-bound fossil fuel refinery. As I arrived closer to my greeting party I noticed more and more soldiers began to pour out of all sorts of hatched and door, preparing for who-knows-what. They moved barrels and netted boxes around. Pulled up ancient devices from the depths of the platform, and moved in such a way that it looked like a choreographed dance.
The woman in front of me noticed my curiosity and smiled. "They are a well oiled machine, and will be ready for whatever is to come, Korian."
"Korian," I stated out loud, "That's my name."
"Yes it is, and it is a name long forgotten to those that once feared it."
"I think it's a good time for them to remember," I stated smirking.
"Then shall we get started, my love?"
"Yes, my Soria, we shall."
I am home.
| 2022-12-05T21:34:05 | 2017-12-30T10:39:35 | 3,733 | 13 |
[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."
|
"Look out for that tree, you're gonna have one of our heads off in a minute if you're not careful."
I didn't slow down, despite John's protests we had to take the risk and ride fast through the forest. The job had been easy, too easy now that I look back; sleepy guards, compliant staff, calm bystanders.
"One last job," he'd said when we met over a drink at the miners reunion over summer. It had been such a tempting haul in a great location with lots of escape routes. That should have been my first warning, it was simply too good to be true. John was so eager and his enthusiasm rubbed onto me, so I got involved. There was a time I would have seen it, but I've grown rusty.
"We have to ditch the bike and go on foot," John shouted.
I steered into a clump of bushes and cut the engine.
"Please put your hands on your head and lay down."
John had dismounted silently and picked up my bag. The sound of the police bikes grew louder.
"You were undercover for all those years?" I almost choked on the words.
"I tried to stop this."
"You fucked up then."
"Yes I did."
"What now?"
"Run."
| 2017-01-14T19:48:09 | 2017-01-14T16:42:22 | 220 | 20 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person.
|
“Sure, I can pass along the message. Who is this for again?” The older woman across from me looks down at her hands, her face creases in contemplation. She doesn’t even look up at me when a reply leaves her lips,
“Abigail Forester. She will be born in September of 2026, but don’t give her this message until December of 2070.” A wave of disbelief came over me. 2070? That can’t be right, that’s fifty years from now!
“Surely you’re joking!” I laugh nervously. I scan the stranger for any sign of insincerity or perhaps madness, but nothing makes itself clear. Her head raises from across the table, her brown eyes piercing into my brain,
“Look, this is very important.” She takes a deep breath. Her hands briefly touch my own in a comforting gesture. “No one else in New York would take me seriously. Trust me, I’ve tried them all.” She runs her fingers through her thick greying hair. She smiles at me, and instinctively, I smile back.
“Ma’am, your request is crazy.” I tell her bluntly; her smile falls slightly, and she leans back. “But I suppose nothing is impossible.” I drink the rest of my lukewarm coffee. Chuckling to herself, the stranger gets up from the small, metal table. She waves at me and adjusts her collar, flashing one last smile before she disappears into the streets.
“Happy New Year, Harrison!” A voice calls out from the bustling crowd.
\--
Snow is falling in large clumps, blanketing the covered heads of New Year’s Eve spectators. Their rosy cheeks lift into smiles as they clap and cheer on the performers. The sounds of synthesized guitar and crooning baritone blend together in the cold air. From leagues above the crowd, cozy apartment parties observe lazily from the skyline. The sound of clinking champagne glasses and polite conversation drown out the bacchanalian festivities below.
Abigail stares down at the flashing lights and excited crowd, her breath creating a fog on the window. She wrings her hands in anticipation.
“Abby, darling!” A voice croons from behind her. Abigail whips around to see an older, rotund woman with a large feather boa. The woman lifts a knarled finger to her cheek. “Looking young as always, not a day over twenty-six!” She looks down at Abby’s dress “And the devilish body to go with it! Me-ow!” Abby steps back and nods politely, quickly ushering herself towards the table of various wines.
She shakily pours a glass of red wine and downs it without thinking. If it was up to her, New Year’s Eve would best be spent in her old apartment or reveling with the crowds below. But Jess begged her to come to her stuffy work party, and Abby didn’t have the heart to say no to her girlfriend. The wines were old and more expensive than her car, the people were friendly but incredibly out of touch. She had to keep breathing or else the walls would threaten to collapse in on her.
As if summoned by her discomfort, Jess sidles up behind her. She lays a kiss into the crown of her head “Doing okay, hon?” she mumbles into her hair
“I’m alive, so that’s a start” Abby replies, staring upward beyond her brow line. Jess shifts herself into view, her short, greying bob contrasting with an elegant black bodysuit. She steadies her clear, brown eyes on Abby.
“The ball drop is in a few minutes, I think we might want to move to the balcony.” Abigail nods and walks slowly, holding on tightly to Jess’ arm. They find a place on the steel balcony next to the space heater. The snowflakes vaporize as soon as they touch the boundary of the heaters, filling the air with a light mist.
The television in the background magnifies the voices down in Time’s Square. A young, clean-cut man strides confidently into center stage and the crowd erupts in cheers.
“He-llo New York!” More cheers from the crowd. “Are you ready to welcome the year twenty-seventy-one?” A muffled “yeah” seems to cascade through the crowd. The man sobers up slightly. “Before we do that, I’d like to honor my predecessor, Harrison Wright, who was unexpectedly killed in a skydiving incident last Fall.” The crowd grows silent, some audible sobbing can be heard. “Now, Harrison would want us to celebrate, so we at INN have made a tribute celebrating Harrison’s life.” A hologram materializes behind the man, the text reads “The Wright Man at the Right Time: A Story.” The other lights dim as the announcer reads along to the animations.
A young man in a large trench coat appears, drinking coffee from a paper cup. “Harrison Wright began his journey in 2020, when he dropped out of law school to become an entertainer.” The man throws the coffee on the ground and runs off stage right “He started at a local news station as the man who would report on happenings: fires, rescued puppies, high school sports games. You name it, Harry was on the scene!” A man appears holding the hand of a young high school football captain, beaming into the camera and shaking his hand vigorously.
|
After a long strenuous day at work, all I wanted was to have a few sips of my black coffee, that's all. I, a sixty four year old man, don't generally attract a lot of attention, so it was lovely to be interrupted by a man with a turquoise mohawk and sunglasses in the winter.
&#x200B;
"Traveler 7456? I'll need you to pass this message along to a Wendy Aulgarth, you'll meet her in the Bronx in 2070. So the message i-"
&#x200B;
"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid that you're speaking to the wrong individual. What is this? Traveler 7456? Is this some video game forum that you're coming from?" I interrupted. The man raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
&#x200B;
"Man, you Travelers never seen to lose your sense of humor, always acting clueless when we come around. Now the message is: "Your journey now has just begun, the demise of man has already been sung, to flee and weep is to see it through, but to rise and fall is to begin anew," The man grinned, and continued to stare at me, "You got that?"
&#x200B;
Now, as you can imagine, I was becoming rather agitated.
&#x200B;
"Is it Bother Elderly People Day? Even if I were apart of your nonsense, why would I tell anyone such a morbid message? Please leave me be!" I barked.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, okay whatever you say man. Just deliver the damn message," The man grunted and trudged away. I finished my coffee in peace, but the message was replaying in my head. With each sip a detail was being refreshed.
&#x200B;
**Sip.** *Wendy Aulgarth.* **Sip.** *The Bronx, 2070.* **Sip.** *Traveler 7456.*
&#x200B;
Once I finished, I promptly left and went for a brief stroll in the snow in order to drown out my thoughts. Then I collapsed. A high pitched ringing sounded in my ears, and seemed to be pounding my brain as it went. I screamed in agony and the people surrounding me assumed that I was having a standard "old person problem" until I closed my eyes for a brief moment and found myself laying on a different snow covered sidewalk.
&#x200B;
The ringing had stopped and no one paid any attention to me, in fact, people were strolling right by.
&#x200B;
"I could still be in Boston," I chuckled and brushed the snow off of my clothes. I remembered that I intended on mailing a letter and I proceeded to the local post office. Which wasn't in its normal spot, and was also squeezed between two massive facilities that I had never seen before. Entering hesitantly, a frail woman at the desk glanced at me with a half hearted smile.
&#x200B;
"Are you just here for the exhibits?" The woman asked with a strange mix between a southern drawl and Cockney accent.
&#x200B;
"Exhibits? No, no I'm here to mail a letter!" I laughed nervously, hoping that the woman was joking too. Her smile slid off of her face, and she rolled her eyes.
&#x200B;
"Everyone thinks that they're a fucking comedian," She muttered and grabbed my arm, "Pay up and I'll take you through the first exhibit."
&#x200B;
"Mam, I'm serious, look!" I said as I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the letter. She looked at me with a bewildered expression.
&#x200B;
"Sir, you are aware that it's 2070. In this neighborhood especially, there are only two functioning post offices, and this isn't one of them," The woman shook her head and returned to her desk to use her phone. I stood dumbfounded. I searched around and spotted a flat screen television mounted on the wall.
&#x200B;
"Can you turn that on please? Turn the station to the news as well."
&#x200B;
With a grunt the television was turned on to show a completely different format than what I recalled with many new faces as well.
&#x200B;
"On this day, December 17th, 2070, we are unfortunately here to report the death o-"
&#x200B;
*2070*. I thought. I looked at the letter I had intended to mail and snatched a pen from the counter of the desk. The woman watched me with intrigue and annoyance as I scribbled down what I remembered of the message.
&#x200B;
All that was left to do was fine this goddamn Wendy Aulgarth and deliver her this horrendous news.
&#x200B;
No sweat.
| 2018-12-24T10:44:40 | 2018-12-24T10:18:15 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] All the world leaders have a groupchat. One day you accidentally get added.
|
\[Alex Bishop has joined the conversation\]
Macron: Hey, who is this, did someone else become a world leader without anyone else realising?
Theresa: Could be another Australian prime minister?
Merkel: No, I believe the Australian prime ministers name was Scott Marston.
~~Malcolm~~ Scott:…...Morrison.
Merkel: What, the person who has been added is called Bishop?
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: No, my name is Morrison.
Merkel: And?
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Scott Morrison, the Australian prime minister!!
Merkel: Oh sorry, either way do you know who our mystery guest is?
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Unfortunately, no.
Theresa: Do we think he’s accidently added someone to the chat again?
Kim Jong Un: Wouldn’t be the first time.
\[Xi, Putin and four others like this comment\]
Macron: Listen we all agree it’s not right to remove you from this chat now, but since we can’t remove any people anymore from this chats thanks to you, this is sort of your fault.
Kim Jong Un: I got what I wanted.
Macron: (sigh) well should someone bump him to get his attention?
Theresa: Why can’t you do it?
Macron: Because I did it last time and he hasn’t stopped ringing me occasionally just to chat, you do it!
Theresa: Listen, I’ve just become the first prime minister in the UK found in contempt of parliament, I’m not in the mood.
\[Kim Jong Un and nine others like this comment\]
Merkel: Perhaps, Trudeau?
Trudeau: Oh no, I had to sit there as he signed the wrong piece of paper today. He had one job!! Get Morrison to do it!
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Why me? I’ve just been minding my own business and don’t want any of this.
Trudeau: Precisely, besides, it isn’t like he’s going to remember who you are.
\[Theresa, Jacinda and fourteen others like this comment\]
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Fine, I’ll do it.
\[Scott Morrison has bumped Donald Trump\]
Donald: “Michael Cohen asks judge for no Prison Time.” You mean he can do all of the TERRIBLE, unrelated to Trump, things having to do with fraud, big loans, Taxis, etc., and not serve a long prison term? He makes up stories to get a GREAT & ALREADY reduced deal for himself, and get.....
Jacinda: Scott remember the rules please and check beforehand to see if he is mid-twitter rant you bloody egg.
Donald: ....his wife and father-in-law (who has the money?) off Scott Free. He lied for this outcome and should, in my opinion, serve a full and complete sentence.
Merkel: Donald this isn’t Twitter, we just need to know if you added this Alex Bishop person by accident?
Donald: Siri Twitter now.
Theresa: Donald please just answer the question, and that’s not how Siri works.
Donald: I barely know Alex Bishop! He was a friend of an associate of mine, HE informs me that he’s always telling people that he knows me, BIG LIAR.
Macron: So….you did add him?
Donald: Witch hunt! Can’t believe the dems would do this, CRAZY!!
\[Fifteen minutes of incoherent ranting later\]
Trudeau: Do you think he’s finally stopped?
Jacinda: I believe he’s at funeral for now, so we’ve got a few minutes.
Macron: Well that was a mess.
Theresa: and, we still don’t know who our mystery person is.
Kim Jong Un: They got a better reception than I did here.
Merkel: That’s because Alex Bishop isn’t threatening the world with a nuclear strike!
Alex Bishop:…….or am I?
Alex Bishop: \[Posts GIF of Leonard Nimoy vanishing from Marge Vs The Monorail\]
\[Alex Bishop has left the conversation\]
|
I prepared myself a coffee, even went down to the store despite the awful cold weather and bought some cookies. This will be a long a night. All those secrets. Maybe I can even write a blog post about this and get famous. I'm still pondering about that though, I don't know if it's wise to mess with all world leaders. Frankly, I don't think I will. I don't have guts. But still, I can't keep away, the curiosity eats me. So I make myself comfy in the chair and start the app whilst savoring my coffee.
&#x200B;
TheRealFuckBoy: What we'll do with our current crisis that we have at hand guys. I won't tolerate it.
大陰莖 : Calm down . Calm down. We sort this
RamNath: No he wont. He just big mouth christian!
TheRealFuckBoy: Who asked a totally small dick. I never called support
LiberteFraternite: Man that is total insensible! Please stop this and apologize
TheRealFuckBoy: Don't you have some riots to attend to?
ReichtLiebeGal: Ignore that man. I do so
TheRealFuckBoy: No. NO! You don't. I'm the one that ignores. I'm the best at ignoring
Thatcher56: Yes, please stop this nonsense.
LiberteFraternite: Stfu England. Nobody asked you
HappyBelgiumChocolate: Yeah stfu
RamNath: F U england!!
MrPutITin: Boys, boys, lets keep this on subject.
TheRealFuckBoy: Thank you dog. Someone that actually uses his brain. I admire that man.
TheRealFuckBoy: I truly do
MrPutITin: ;)
SushiBanzai: We all know you do. So, tell us. What you intend to do about this. You opened the subject
TheRealFuckBoy: Man I had this great, really great plan. And you made me forget. It was great and now I forgot it.
Thatcher56: Your country has the studio. You should be a man for once and set this straight
RamNath: England you stink bro!
HappyBelgiumChocolate: Yeah stfu
VivaPSOE: You know how to ruin a perfectly delicious sangria england!
MapleNectarBoy: But this time he is not wrong. He has the power to fix this. I really want to see the next season, guys
MrPutITin: I love the blind boy. Reminds me of me
ReichtLiebeGal: Dude, you're not blind
MrPutITin: My love for Russia is.
HappyBelgiumChocolate: O snaaap!
TheRealFuckBoy: :)) I can't deal with this guys. You need to convince your local Netflix not to cancel it or straight up you ban it . Tell them that. Or you can build a firewall like China did. Trust me, it's the best way, simply the best way to do this. If I interfere they will say I'm a fucking bigot since I didn't interfered for the black guy.
SushiBanzai: But you really are one
TheRealFuckBoy: :)) Stop it man. This Japanese humor is the best. I tell you
SexenioLocco: Maybe I can send some more hermanos to convince them
TheRealFuckBoy: :)))) C'mon man. Don't make me build the wall.
SexenioLocco: :))
HappyBelgiumChocolate: =))
&#x200B;
I just logged off. This was just not what I've expected. Guess my book about new world order has to wait for another day. Neah, I won't write that. I don't want to be a target. Freaking coffee, it was a decaf, great ...
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
| 2018-12-04T14:27:24 | 2018-12-04T14:27:00 | 186 | 37 |
[WP] We were told we had 24 hours until the end of the world. We did things, all of us; unspeakable and selfish, horrible things. 24 hours of greed-fuelled anarchy and then the world would end... except it didn’t. Now we must all go on knowing what we did and deal with the consequences of that day.
|
We made it a special day. We were lucky that we had already been on vacation at the time of the announcement. I always took the family up to our little cottage in the woods on the lake.
The kids didn’t hear the message. They were too young and didn’t have phones or electronics. We made sure none came on our trips except for emergencies. My wife and I had both gotten the alerts. At first we just thought it was some kind of joke or prank but after a few calls to friends and information online it all seemed to be true. So we sat down and talked about it. We still didn’t tell the kids but we did ask them what would make the perfect day.
After about an hour of figuring out how to spend the day we came up with a delightful plan. We spent the day hiking around the woods, building sand castles on the beach, cooking our favorite foods. It really was the best day we could have ever had. The kids even seemed to be on their best behavior but maybe that was because we told them that we would make a cake and it on our little boat under the stars if they were good.
Sure enough they were good all day. My wife and I baked a beautiful chocolate cake, put it in our boat with the kids and rowed out to the middle of the lake. You couldn’t have asked for a better night, clear with stars for miles.
We all grabbed a piece of cake and started eating. My wife’s eyes were filled with tears, mine were too for that matter. The kids hadn’t noticed, and never would. The drugs in the cake started to take affect. Soon both of my daughters were asleep, a sleep neither would ever wake from. I kissed them both on the forehead sobbing grossly.
My wife looked down at them as we said goodbye. We waited for their breathing to stop before laying their bodies in the water, my wife had started to feel the affects of her drugged cake too. She gently kissed me and we said goodbye. We knew this would be our last time together, but what a lovely day it had been. She too slept and not long after her breathing stopped. I placed her in the water with our children.
It was just me now, I had promised to be right behind her. But I hadn’t actually eaten any of our cake. I wanted to see the end, witness whatever this worlds end would be. It was quiet. I hadn’t even noticed I had fallen asleep. But I had fallen asleep and it was day, fully day.
Confused I went back to the house to check our phones. The world hadn’t ended...and it wasn’t going to. It was all for nothing.
|
The world broke out into chaos once the announcement was made. Twenty four hours and the world was to end was something so surreal that many didn't believe it. Instantly the internet was set on fire with those seeking answers only to be faced with only more questions, memes, and false information. It took almost an hour for the world to shut down, businesses closing and the roads locked with panicking drivers.
The warning repeated, each hour as if to remind everyone of their unstoppable demise. Outside, people would handle this truth in their own ways between trying to raid stores to having sex in the front yard...with the neighbor. Thankfully with my odd schedule it was a day I was home along with the girlfriend. We were able to bunker up the place, having meal prepped there would be plenty to keep us sustained for the day. It was enough trouble having our dogs going crazy every time there was activity outside.
Having recently faced death with the unexpected passing of my father, I had already been down the paths of my own fate. Having twenty four hours of warning, much more so be in full health in that time, was more a blessing than most ends I had imagined.
The day was now for insuring I wouldn't ever die with regrets. Phone lines were tied or even cell towers knocked down, so it was just ourselves. With the girl I loved and the dogs I raised, it was simply spending my last moments with them. To most out in the world of all possibilities to do in those last hours they might seem it lame and dumb. But the world we had built was our own right there at home.
Rings made of string, the finest dress two casual people had on hand, and a lot of dog treats would grant the witnesses. It was simple, far from perfect but it was our own. The music flowed, bottles saved for special occasion were opened, and the simple joy of companionship warmed our evening.
A night of strong passions, harsh sadness at our fate, and need for comfort kept us focused inward. So when the next day broke, the timer left with nothing happening, the world drew quiet. People found that there ways in the last hours had consequences, a new panic gripped the world.
At home, for luck or timing, we managed to get through it with a stronger bond than ever. Some day metal would replace string and once the government got back in order a paper signed to make it official. Well...as long as she never finds out I fucked the dogs when she passed out from drinking too much...
| 2020-02-22T11:50:48 | 2020-02-22T10:26:44 | 291 | 89 |
[WP] A rich man discovers that he only has two years left to live. With no relatives to inherit his fortune, he disguises himself as a beggar and resolves to give his wealth to the first person who helps him.
|
The worthy shall inherit the earth or in this case a ton of cash to influence it. I failed in life to do good with this wealth. I never even allowed myself to have a family. I'm on day 32 of begging on this street. I don't want to give up this wealth to just any person that gives me a penny. I want to do it for someone that shows me true compassion. So far I've had no luck and I'm getting close to my final days.
Day 57, I told myself surely someone cares enough to help me. Surely everyone isn't so self centered. Yet here I am a few dollars richer than I was yesterday. Who am I kidding I've made thousands just sitting here on the ground due to the interest of my wealth. It's been very humbling to not spend a dime of it though. It's getting colder here. Winter is coming soon and I'm only supposed to live until next March sometime. I'm determined to wait this out though.
Day 83, I can't even believe the ridiculous thing that just happened. I'm sitting here freezing and a homeless man comes up and gives me one of his blankets. Tells me not to die on the cold ground and to warm up near his fire. I was taken aback by how kind he was. I sat with him and we talked. He told me he had been wanting to help someone who truly needed it. I told him I was waiting for that someone to help me. And what are the odds? We both offered each other our immense wealth almost simultaneously. Turns out being rich and alone is common practice. Well to say the least we had one hell of a laugh. Much needed in my final days. He had less time than I did apparently. We did realize something though. Why make someone suffer through the same rich loneliness that we have.
Day 124, my time is almost up. My newly gained friend has passed. We accomplished our goal though. We set in motion a plan to help those in need as well as those trying to live their lives. Giving back to the middle class and poor. Our money together is set to pay 10% of all their taxes until it is all gone. Though the combined interest should prevent that from happening for quite some time. We also created homes for the homeless with options to allow them to start over if they so choose to. This will be my final entry. I just hope whoever is reading this understands. Money is not everything. Live your life and enjoy those closest to you. I took the long way around to find this out.
|
Seaweed for the first time in decades.
It looks less dangerous than scores of men painted in white, armed with leer. Here there are more green than brown, more hope than despair. More unconscious laboring for air. More cushion to spare. But they are weed nonetheless.
My father's line built this, reeled it from the shores of salt. My mother's lie stole this, sealed it from my surest assault. My line will end with this, undoubted from *his* jurist exalt.
"Give it away or keep it at bay, you'll have more once you've acceded. Provided you've succeeded with the war."
I have no choice, *he* gave *her* to me. How can I ignore such liability? Even if I helplessly doubt *his* claim on my paternity?
The thoroughfare hosts many destitute with torn garbs and limbs. The cathedral contains hymns. My view dims.
"Sirrah, have we met?" a voice asks, her voice familiar, a reminder of when I stood straight as a pillar of the streets. Her face has no change at all: eyes that depict of spring plains unslaked, nose tilted higher than what she would be, lips as thin as the days of carefree.
What did she see in me? "No, madam, I believe not," I replied, angling my eyes to meet hers, the overcast sky.
She kissed her teeth. "Your eyes remind me of someone. Someone stolen from me. Stolen from us."
Paper bounded us as it binds me to *her*. It also rounded her family just to her. "A silver for this dreary morning?"
She nodded and began the perfunctory act. A drop from a cloud landed between my eyebrows. It trailed down, beneath my left eye. Her right hand hovered inside the left side of her blue silken dress. "My lord?"
Standing up, I dwarf her. Still, for a moment the images of the past surge forward. Her two guards towered me, their hands reaching for the top of their left hip. My right hand rummages my right pocket like a sea cow munching on seaweed. "This entitles you to all of my estates in the capital," I state as I reveal my fortune.
My prenuptial fortune.
When she had most of it on her hands, I turned away from her. Away from the concentrated fronds of fond bonds.
Toward less weedy company, fewer tea, and more orally quiet cacophony.
| 2017-08-21T06:33:09 | 2017-08-21T06:32:46 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] In order to prevent man from chopping them down, trees evolve a rather unusual feature - WiFi. However, the network they are connected to is not the Internet as we know it.
|
(25 minutes later)
... "Thank you for calling Verizon customer support, this is Nacho. May I please have your name for our records?"
"Mike. You're the third person that I've told."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Nothing."
"Ok. Mike?"
"Yes."
"What seems to be the issue today, Mike?"
"Well my router doesn't seem to be working correctly."
...
"Hello?"
"Yes sir, I'm sorry to hear that. What exactly is the problem with the router?"
"It's just not working. There's no Greenternet coming from it."
"Ok, I understood. Please hold on for a moment while I connect to your account."
...
"What color are the leaves, sir?"
"It's winter, here."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Uh...there are no leaves. They all fell off. It's winter."
"Oh, I see. So you have a deciduous model, then. Do you know the species, sir?"
"Yes, yes. Hold on, let me get the guide. It looks like a...man, this is hard without the leaves...it looks like either an Oak...or...an Elm."
"It cannot be an Oak, sir, because Verizon does not use oaks as carriers, but it could certainly be an elm. Can you please confirm if it is an American Elm or a Rock Elm?"
"I don't know. Where can I find that information?"
"Is the bark flakier, or rather sturdy?"
"Sturdy."
"Ok Mike, I believe you are using an American Elm with us today. And please allow me to confirm that there are no leaves on your tree. Is that correct?"
"Yes, it's December."
"Ok. Mike, I am going to walk you through some simple troubleshooting tests such as resetting your tree's connection. Is that ok?"
"Yes, but I've already turned it off and then on again."
"And what did that do?"
"Well, nothing obviously. There's no Greenternet still."
...
[The conversation continues for some time before Mike goes out and cuts down the tree himself, planting in its stead a sturdy Cherry from a local telecom startup.]
|
"After the Great Network Bombings of 2020 things have never been the same."
I glisten my hand softly over the soft bark of the old Great Oak. The only thing that has kept humanity running. I don't really notice the group of children I'm suppose to be Guiding. I just let my thoughts flow out like they once used to... I never liked trees, I was for the Deforestation Act of 2019 but...
"You see kids...these great beings, are the last of their kind after the tragedy that happened 7 years ago. They exist as a sign of humanity's ever lasting commitment to preserving nature."
We didn't know. Have we really gotten to the point where these are the last things we can truly use to connect. The only things that make us feel like we are we and not just alone in the world. Then something wet hits my cheek.
"Mister Cole, why are you crying?"
My hands quickly wipe my face for any evidence of the fact, I'm not embarrassed, it's just these tears bring back the memories and the future.
"I...I'm just remembering kids about the old times, well what we're talking about here, those old times..."
My hands feels their hands, I feel every single one of them across the globe, their sadness but also their joy. I look at my group of kids, one spouts something they should't know yet.
"I heard from my Dad about the black-outs and the computer burning."
A semi-warm smile makes it's way across my face as I pat one of the their heads.
"Yes, your Daddy sounds like a smart man."
Suddenly a jolt runs down my arm still on the Great Oak. It's time...
"Hey kids, can you come stand over here for a second, it's time we get started.
They move orderly like how they're taught and one turns to me and looks at me with a innocent stare.
"Is this going to hurt Mister Cole?"
My semi-fake smiles turns into a soft grimace.
"Yes."
| 2015-06-30T15:28:22 | 2015-06-30T14:28:19 | 159 | 16 |
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it.
|
I glanced at my watch. Robbie is late again. We've been together for 3 years and he's always been late. As I toss my cigarette butt out the window of my car, I think about our first date. He was 30 minutes late picking me up for the movie. I probably should have ended it after that first night but I didn't.
He was late the night he was supposed to pick me up for our prom. Almost an hour. I had to redo my make up twice from the tears. I thought he wasn't coming but then he showed up, flowers in hand, looking more handsome than I'd ever seen him.
For years I joked that if I was ever late, the world would end. Something bad would happen. We would be in a car accident that we would have missed if I was 5 minutes early. But people don't die just because you're late, right?
I don't know why I thought today would be different today. After 20 minutes I hear his truck rumble into the parking lot.
"You ready for this babe?" Robbie asked.
"Yeah. Let's do it." I say and wrap his hand in mine.
Together we walk to the front counter.
"How can I help you?" the lady asks.
"I'm about 10 weeks late on my period and I want to terminate the pregnancy" I tell her.
"Sign here, fill these out and someone will be with you shortly" she said.
I sit and sigh. I look over for comfort from Robbie.
He smiles and says, "Hey, at least this time I wasn't the one who was late" and I know I'm making the right decision.
|
Five years old, he's on the playground now, a toe in the sand. He's beckoning to you to push him on the swing.
Six years old - He's been with his mother all day and rushes to greet you at the door. You kiss him on the forehead and hug your wife. The love that connects you three anchors the rest of your life.
Nine years old - you buy him a gerbil. He names the animal and takes care of it diligently. He tells you that's what he wants to do in life - help animals. You nod and smile.
He's on the varsity team. He rows and plays basketball. He has your affinity for the knicks and the Jets. He falls in love with a cheerleader. She breaks his heart and for the first and last time in his life he tries drugs. He meets Cindy who becomes the love of his life. He introduces her to you and Maggie. He tells you that the man he's become is because of the virtues you imbued in him and hands you a sonogram. You're going to be a grandfather. You embrace your son.
He's forty three. A twice divorced executive who still loves the Jets and spoils his kids with whatever they want. They resent him but you can see the love for them in his eyes.
He's sixty one. The veins in his taut leathery hands are prominent. He steadies himself as he reads your eulogy. Here lies my father, the greatest man I've ever known.
| 2015-06-03T13:26:32 | 2015-06-03T07:16:05 | 19 | 11 |
[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.
|
Not every Enhanced can always control their powers. We had to switch to plastic coffee mugs because Strongs kept accidentally breaking them and we just had to get Speeds really good helmets. I liked dealing with those problems at first. Easy problems. Psychs have the hardest time controlling their powers. I know someone who had to stop listening to music because she kept getting songs stuck in peoples heads. I just invade peoples dreams.
I'm standing on a maroon shag carpet.
I'm unlucky so naturally I'm a Psych. When I became Enhanced I was a little unstable from... Well a woman... I managed to get past evaluations and thought I was fine but as soon as I awoke from the procedure I was in a concrete box underground trapped with her and running out of oxygen. Let's just say I had to get past my own inner demons before I could help other people.
The room is dimly lit, but I can dimly perceive the sillhouette of a person on a couch.
Time seems to move slower in dreams and it's hard to concentrate on any one thing. Sometimes you can't even control yourself. My power has been hugely beneficial to my area in dealing with the homeless and druggies. Helping them to return to society. My power also means whenever I sleep near someone I enter their dreams. It means I have to sleep alone.
She rolls over onto her side with a light groan.
I'm trying to analyze why this happened. I think I remember going to bed in my room alone. It's always hard to tell what happened right before you went to sleep. My go to response is to assume that I'm doing this on purpose, but something definitely feels off.
She stands up and looks at me. She is indescribably beautiful.
A problem has never been beautiful before. They're grotesque mockeries of what they think should be or what a person fears might have been. They are negative cruelties of the world made physical. She is wearing light clothing that I can't really make out. She's petite and has a kind face.
I'm walking toward her and she's walking toward me. There's something eerily familiar about her.
I'm starting to panic. I really don't want to fight this thing. Something is filling me with doubt and revulsion about the idea of killing this beautiful creature. You can't always control what you do in dreams and I'm worried I will do something horrible. Have I become a monster in someones head?
She has blue eyes.
Her mothers eyes.
I wake with a start as a small hand touches my arm.
"Daddy? Chuck Cheese... Ballpit..."
I pick up my little sleep walker. I carry my incredible, beautiful, somnambulist back to moms room and give the two most beautiful women in the world kissed on their foreheads before returning to my bed downstairs. I'm not sure how unlucky I am anymore.
|
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.
| 2017-04-25T01:54:44 | 2017-04-24T22:29:24 | 43 | 28 |
[WP] A new rule on Earth is made which allows everyone to legally kill 1 person in their life, this affects the world severely & changes how everybody acts.
|
Who is that shivering man on the street?
That woman who's pleading for something to eat?
That beggar whose pungency left you annoyed?
Anonymous people we _used_ to avoid.
If life were a stage, they would merely be props,
Something to look at, to pick up then drop.
Yet now they can murder with nothing amiss.
We treat them much better, but realise this:
Without the rule, nothing would change; if they choose,
These people could kill you; they've little to lose.
But what they have gained from it, don't you mishear,
Is really _respect_ and not simply our fear.
By forcing us now to sit up and take note
Of our treatment of them, by the knives at our throat,
Some doorways are closed, but we've opened our eyes
For death shows the value of _all_ of our lives.
How warm was the winter, compared to our hearts!
Before we were given this chance to restart.
We'll care for each other, amend all our ways,
For only our darkness need perish today.
|
Every since The Amendment, there has been an increase in kidnappings; babies in hospitals to lonely adults. People started buying slaves, the rich buying by the dozens. The Amendment states that anyone who is a registered citizen is allowed to legally kill one person registered or not.
The only country that has not accepted The Amendment was Switzerland. There was a growing concern about how all countries including the rogue North Korea quickly implemented The Amendment.
When conspiracy theories went wild online, large parts of the Internet was shutdown. Various news media also had to follow the guidelines of the state to censor their broadcasts and / or publications; which of course was not publicized. Censorship ran rampant everywhere.
Countries fell one by one into anarchy as everyone started killing each other whether be it revenge, hatred or just for fun. Switzerland stood alone, doing damage control and securing their country along their borders.
The rich grew more powerful overnight. Money talks. Soon a new group of elites grew out of the anarchy, which called themselves by a familiar name, The Illuminati. They collective gathered their resources and were now looking to go after the remaining safe haven, Switzerland...
| 2017-12-03T06:52:52 | 2017-12-03T06:28:57 | 754 | 39 |
[WP] You're a used cars salesman that has been transported into a medieval fantasy world where you've become the hero that needs to slay the dragon and save the princess. Your only leveled up skill - speech 100.
|
"I do say your highness" I said to the King, "I am more than capable of saving your daughter, but I'll need more then a flimsy sword and rusty set of armor"
The King narrowed his eyes at me, but I knew that I had already won this debate. He sent me off with a shining iron sword and a glistening set of steel armor.
Next up, I had to train my stats.
"You see here, my fine fellow" I said to the head guard. "The King had given me full access to the entire castle if I am to save his daughter, and I demand you step aside at once to let me in the training grounds!"
The guard sized me up, but stepped aside, glaring at me all the while as I strided past him to the training grounds.
The training itself was.. embarrassing.
Let's not get into details, but my melee skills were brought up by fifteen at least. That was all that I needed.
I walked out of the castle grounds towards the stables.
"I say dear maiden" I said to the young woman tending to the horses. "You look mighty fine for a stable hand"
"Oh!" Said the flustered woman. "T-Thank you"
"It's a shame that I must start walking towards the dragon's keep by now, or I would certainly stay to chat"
The girl pursed her lips. "Dragon you say?" She asked. "Sounds very serious. I mean.. if you need a mount.."
"Yes?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Needless to say, I got that Horse. Not to mention a new admirer.
I had one last stop.
"Oy!" I shouted, as I confidently walked into the bar. "Who's up for a little gold in their pockets?"
"What say you about gold, little man?" Asked a burly mercenary as he towered over me.
"Ah, just the kind of raw muscle I was looking for, my friend!" I praised. "You see, there's a dragon who has taken the king's daughter, little thing, really, don't know how it managed to lift itself off the ground with those little wings"
A couple minutes later, I had myself a dozen free mercenaries at my disposal. All it took was the good ol talk of Fame and fortune and they were practically at my every beck and call.
We rode our steeds to the lair of the great beast. Dismounting, we walked up the spiral stairs of the tower the dragon called home.
After the dragon had a feast of mercenaries, I snuck my way over to the princess's cell. In retrospect, I should've taken the time to level my sneak stat as well.
The dragon whirled around, and I instantly raised my hands up to surrender, dropping my sword.
"What's a menacing creature like you doing stealing princesses?" I asked, as it approached.
It stopped for a minute, who would've guessed that it understood English?
"I tell you what, you fly us home, we pin this whole thing on the mercenaries and you get the Royal treatment for saving the princess. What do you say?"
The dragon looked from the princess's cell, to me, to the bones of its last meal, the unhired help.
As you could imagine, the princess got home safely, the Dragon spent the rest of its years being the symbol of the kingdom and having all the criminals it could eat, and I?
Well, I have a date with a cute stable hand. Life is good.
Edit: Thanks for the Gold, Stranger!
|
"I am the G.O.A.T of salesmanship! Have *you* sold a mechanical pencil, three bars of chocolate, and a palastic pen for one hundred years of peace and the princess to boot? No?" Roger said with a snare.
The man before him, a slimy, short, pudgy, fellow that wore too many layers of clothes simply frowned. He was Jakium Hendal, the self-proclaimed greatest merchant on the continient of Alledar. Unable to respond, his white complexion quickly turned red in anger.
"Roger! You can't claim to be the legendary salesmen! Any random commoner could claim the same!" Jakium said in a great outburst.
Laughing, Roger shook his head and looked away from the other man. A winning smile on his face, he looked at the audience that had gathered on this dusty, hot day to witness their debate. Everyone had some type of head cover to keep the sun at bay, lest their hair burn.
*This is perfect! I am going to make so much today!*
"Gather and listen to my tale! Of a hero summoned! Sent to kill the blood dragon of Gurgon The Fire and save the princess, Hefatinay! Of a hero that wields not the sword, but the eternally more powerful word. Listen about how a man duped a dragon that had lived for mellinea with nothing but the cheapest of tools. This is the story of Regor Johnson!"
Bellowing like his life depended on it, he watched his hired venders spread among the increasing crowd. Foods, sculptures of the main characters, clothes with pictures, souvenir swords and pens, masks and costumes. He had everything someone could have wanted.
A bit further in the street, he noticed a massive ornate caravan wagon stopping to watch. That had his smile from ear to ear. He had been planning this for ages, with this he could narrate the tale he had. And more importantly, separate himself from his competitors.
Looking back with a smug smile, he noticed Jakium's hanging mouth. He knew he had been doped into aiding his competitor, the only other person with level 100 speech.
For the next seven hours, Roger sang, screamed, whispered, and cried. The very city itself stopped its busy world to witness the telling of such an epic. To Roger, the money he made couldn't be contained with his massive safe, so a chain of workers carried the gold, silver, and copper to the Royal Bank.
Now, after the impromptu holiday of sorts, Roger was left alone with his workers cleaning around his messy store. Papers sold, food remains, and even a few areas where his specialty drinks (price three times the normal rate) had been spilt by the customers as they jumped to their feet in applause near the end. Just thinking about how much he made had him daydreaming in the middle of the night.
"Roger!" Jakium screamed, startling him.
"What do you want, Jakium? Here to surrender your claim as the greatest merchant?" Roger said with a smirk.
But, instead of the red faced bumbing wreck he expected, a whole new face showed on Jakium. He had curiosity and belief in them.
"I-is the story true? Did you really face a dragon?"
"Thats for me to know, and you to speculate," Roger said as he turned with a swish of his robes. Leaving Jakium by himself and his thoughts.
r/JuggernautProductions
| 2019-04-21T13:00:24 | 2019-04-21T12:22:54 | 3,261 | 56 |
[WP] Somebody once told you the world is going to roll you. However, you are the sharpest tool in the shed.
|
Somebody once told me the world was gonna roll me
Though I *was* the sharpest tool in the shed.
Well she wasn't really wrong,
I had blades and I was long
For a mower well I killed that grass dead.
But the years kept coming and the grass kept growing,
Fed me some oil so my motor kept running.
Didn't make sense just to cut and run
So I stayed in the shed when my job was done.
So much to do, so much to see,
So she hired someone to use me.
But cleaning me wasn't the deal
And that's when my shit got real.
Hey now, you're a rock star
Get your show on, go play.
Hey now, you've gone so far,
No one's left here,
Just me.
And all that glittered is brown,
Only rust and dirt
Are my friends now.
|
They said the would was gonna roll me. Well hell, they were right.
But just one thing they didn't expect about me. See, they thought I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Which is fair, I mean the grand majority of tools weren't the sharpest. But one was.
The world rolled me all right... but I was no rock star, I was not gonna get out and go play. I knew that not all that glittered was gold. And I had no use whatsoever for change.
So when the world came to roll me.... well.... the world popped. I'm just the sharpest tool in the sheeeeeeedd.
Edit: ***COMING TO THEATERS SPRING 2018, SMASHED MOUTH, POPPED PLANET; SHARPER THEN YOUR AVERAGE TOOL.***
| 2017-07-01T05:58:59 | 2017-07-01T05:14:27 | 153 | 16 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes.
|
September 2nd, 2028. 10:37pm.
&#x200B;
I've burnt it in my memory. I can remember every single
fleck, every shadow, the shape of the iris. I catch myself
dreaming of those eyes - the lashes, the small laugh lines.
Everything.
&#x200B;
I've seen them on the third of every month since my
awakening at nineteen. Some awaken earlier, some later,
but never beyond thirty. Somewhere between thirteen and
twenty-nine, a couple in the world see the eyes that mirror
their hearts. Their souls. They yearn for it - hunger to
see them in reality. For six very long years, I have ached
to get to the third of the month, to see them again. The
pale green eyes with the violet flecks scattered within
them.
&#x200B;
Tomorrow I will see them again. I will feel the warmth
of knowing that person is out there, waiting for me. I
will get up and go to work at Bethesda Memorial Oncology
Center, and see them again. I cannot wait for sleep tonight,
if I can find it.
&#x200B;
September 3rd, 2028. 10:15am.
&#x200B;
I've made it to work. 45 minutes until I see those lovely
eyes. But first, I must see to my rounds. I've got a new
one today. Room 603. Let's see:
&#x200B;
Sarah Jehosephat
Age: 23
Height: 5'6
Weight: 107 lbs.
Type: Aggressive, Terminal.
Approximation: 6-10 months.
&#x200B;
As I scan quickly over the chart, I steel myself for
the meeting. The terminal ones are always tough.
Devastating.
&#x200B;
"Sarah, I see we have a round of chem..."
&#x200B;
Green eyes, violet flecks. My world stops. She looks up
and I know she knows. Those beautiful eyes fill quickly
with tears.
&#x200B;
The chart clatters to the floor. My vision blurs with tears
of the theft of everything. The lump in my throat threatens
to choke the life from me. My tongue is thick, useless.
&#x200B;
The love of my life is dying. And I have ten months at
the most.
&#x200B;
And I only just met her.
*edit - redundancy.
|
“We’re sorry. It's just the policy. The gates close fifteen minutes before the flight.”
“Fuck. And that time is it now?”
“Fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds before the flight.”
I don’t know what to say. All of a sudden, a great tiredness washes over my body, and all that running through the terminals, all that scrambling…it feels as if it was a great waste. Lately, that’s all there life has been for me. Chasing figures in the fading light that turn out to be shadows only when I get there, and only the darkness all around.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Shouldn’t have trusted the snooze button.”
“You can never. Also, it was a priority for us to get this flight on its way. The normal flight to New York was cancelled, so a lot of passengers got moved over to this one. They need to make their connecting, in Denver…”
*Then, it happens. A hot flash, not exactly a vision, more like a vision, a smell, a warmth…a fireplace, a smile, a blue sky, the light pressure of another body next to mine. Comfort, laughter…but just a whisper, like trying to imagine a delicious meal long after it’s been eaten. Or before…*
“I’m sorry,” the representative says. “Do I recognize you from somewhere?”
In that moment, it all clicks for me. The flash, the tiredness, the man's face…
“How often do you make this flight?”
“Not that often. I’m just going back to see my parents.”
“I must have mistaken you for someone else. A lot of regulars on this flight."
"How often is this flight?"
"Same time, every month. Now, let's see about rescheduling..."
Outside, the flight takes off at sunset. The sky is dotted with orange-pink clouds and its colors are rapidly fading and darkening, like a phoenix’s final cry before it enters the void. I smile, waiting for rebirth.
\-
I crane my neck, looking down at the airport. My heart is beating so fast I almost can’t control it. He was there. He is there...and I'm taking off.
I want to feel pain, feel cheated again. But all I can do is smile, and somehow, even though I’m not looking through his eyes or hearing his voice anymore, I know he is too. And that it can’t be too long before I know for sure.
Before we rise above the clouds, I take one look back. The plane is full, but I can’t help but wave, with more than a sneaking suspicion that he is doing the same…
| 2019-02-13T15:59:22 | 2019-02-13T15:13:07 | 658 | 260 |
[WP] On one rainy day, you decide to chill and listen to some music. You put on Don't Fear the Reaper, but then you hear an ambulance driving past your house. You put on Mr. Blue Sky, and the nonstop rain ends abruptly. You realize you have a superpower: You can control the world with music.
|
While looking outside at the eerily blue sky, you remember you left your entire music library on shuffle. R.E.M.'s It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) starts playing. You scramble to grab your phone to skip to the next song, pause, anything. Mid-scramble, you realize that nothing is happening outside. You pause for a moment and let the song play. Netflix hums quietly on your tv. Your dog looks at you quizzically, head cocked to one side. You go back to the window as the rain starts again. Nothing else stirs. No planes or UFOs in the sky, no screams of horror in the streets. The song is still playing. A powerful sense of calm washes over you as you glance at your calendar. You think to yourself, *Maybe 2020 won't be so bad after all.*
|
Stunned by my newfound revelation, I dropped my phone in shock where it bounced off the sofa onto the floor.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. What could I do with this knowledge, could I be rich? Could I improve lives? Could I make my crush love me? _Should_ I make my crush love me?
Could I ever enjoy music again without ramifications? Have I lost the simple joy of a song? Could I listen to my favourite songs without worrying about their impact on the world?
I was still sat there deep in thought when my little brother walked in.
He said 'Wow, you're sat there with a deep look on your face, you need lighten up. Hey Siri, play "Walking on Sunshine'''
| 2022-03-01T08:13:55 | 2022-03-01T05:15:36 | 53 | 26 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/)
|
It worked! I couldn’t believe it, I was sitting in a hibernation pod wide awake. I have to get out of here before someone notices, need to slip back into the new rotation, take on my new identity...
See ever since overpopulation became a thing, we had to start coming up with ways to survive. Along comes the brilliant Dr Frank about 3000 years ago, with hibernation pods and the idea of splitting the worlds population into tenths. Each rotation getting to live ten years while the other 90% of the world lays asleep waiting their turn.
It certainly slowed down the food shortages what with only needing to fill the stomachs of a fraction of the total population. Yet here I am at age 29 after living 209 real earth years and we still haven’t solved the crisis that had us all rattled all those centuries ago. You can only get so much done in ten years, then you have to pass it onto the next rotation and hope that they can understand enough to keep on going with the progress you made.
It still hurt, finding out as a kid that my mother had me in the final year of her rotation. Hibernation pods can’t sustain unborn children, the baby just keeps on coming eventually growing too big for the womb and killing the mother with it. So instead they let the mother extend her rotation on the condition that when the child is born they immediately enter hibernation and go back to their parent rotation. The lucky child then has the pleasure of being raised by foster parents from the current “living” human population, deprived of ever meeting their real family again.
Well now I have a chance to fix everything. I could have just waited out my hibernation to continue my research but if I’d learnt anything over my last 10 year stint its that no rotation was making any progress towards preventing overpopulation. We were coming dangerously close to a crossroad where a second split would need to occur, creating 100 groups each taking a 10 year rotation followed by 990 years of hibernation. I needed to fix this problem now, even if it meant breaking the greatest rule of all and “living” for longer than 10 years.
My biggest fear? Just how different these other 9 rotations were... maybe if I live long enough I’ll get to do a full loop, meet my family... will be quite a bit older than them by that point!
|
When I get upset I can’t help but slap everyone within a 2 meter radius with my wild gesticulations.
"You goddamn idiots; goddamn buffoons. You don’t put everyone to sleep simultaneously!"
Everyone evacuated the 2 meter radius around so that I had the ersatz spotlight I needed to gain the attention of the committee. Politicians don’t like being called what they are;— allergic to the truth;— Shakespeare: fools thinks himself to be a wise man and all that;— "Fucking bozos."
Un-idiotic people around me nodded in vigorous assent. The idiotic ones clutched bruised body-parts.
"Sir, you’ll have your chance to—"
"Yeah but you’d never let anyone with a half-a-brain up there, now would you?"
"Sir, we’re trying to—"
"Constructive dialogue? You apes can’t even see the obvious problem here? You’ll kill us all."
"Sir, at least point out a specific problem with the bill…"
"I’ll read it out! I quote: 'Due to overpopulation, a global law is proposed that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years.' You’re going to put EVERYONE to sleep? Huh? So in a 100 years, we still have an overpopulation problem? Because the net number of people is going to be the same."
"But we’ll have time… regenerate natural resources…"
"Yeah cause a 100 years is so long."
"So what would you propose?"
"Stagger it."
"?"
"Here, let me explain:"…
\[Twenty Years Later\]:
Today is Shutdown Day. I’m just about tucked into my pod. I instantly notice eyes being shut all around me. But something is wrong; I’m are still awake. So I get up and go talk to the person in charge and they fix my problem right away. That there will be bugs in the deployment of a project as big and complicated as this a fore-drawn conclusion. But, I can feel myself drifting into a comfy sleep to a utopian future. At least we don’t put everyone to sleep so that I’m not bloody Will Smith talking to a mannequin in a clothes shore after my dog dies. Wait, I forgot about my dog…
| 2018-12-29T04:15:00 | 2018-12-29T02:18:27 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
“So you’re storming the beaches of Italy in his game. Did you bring the WW2 character sheets?”
“Uhh... shit I brought my fantasy sheet for my ranger.”
“...”
“It’s okay! We can still play. Who was important in WW2 again?”
“Winston Churchill...”
“There we go! I’ll call my character Jack Churchill, and he’s storming the beaches with a broad sword and longbow.”
“Do you really have to do that?”
“Come on man it’ll be fun”
“... fuck it, sure”
|
DM: Ok Harold if you could just roll for initiative.
Harold: I rolled a 1
DM: ok the bowmen is first to attack you. He rolls a natural 20
Harold: so what’s happened?
DM: He has shot you in the eye, you’re dead.... on the plus side it will look fab in this tapestry I have been putting together of the game!
| 2018-05-29T09:44:43 | 2018-05-29T08:51:37 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] When humanity went extinct another life-form rose to dominance on Earth. But it was not one anyone would have expected. Instead of chimpanzees, dolphins, dogs or even birds Earth is now dominated by sentient trees.
|
They breathed with us. They drank with us. The same air, the same water. We survived. They didn't. Green covers the planet, birds sing their songs, bees make their honey, and the wind spreads the dandelions. The skies are bluer than ever, and the smell of artificial poisons are no more. The pain they caused allowed us to learn, grow, practically cover the planet in beauty.
Even the soulless dunes of sand have begun breathing freely and relax. From the falling snow to the crashing wave of tsunamis the silence is real. Crashing waves and thunder are a part of the natural quiet.
Sometimes we miss them, their curiosity, the feelings we gave them. If only they loved themselves.
We miss them.
|
From 237 million BC until 66 million BC the dinosaurs ruled as the planet's dominant life forms.
From 5 million BC until 6 million years AD the upright standing hominids walked the Earth.
In 13 million AD, the first sequoias developed a sense of self identity and awareness.
In 39 million AD, the first of these colossal flora developed a rudimentary mouth and vocal chords. Unfortunately, the sounds a wooden larynx can produce are fairly limited. Despite this, the first speaking tree uttered a seemingly simple phrase that, if the animals in the boughs of the man-plant could understand it, they would surely have thought it the most profound speech they'd ever listened to. Sadly, all they could hear was "I am Groot".
| 2022-08-27T07:31:55 | 2022-08-27T07:12:16 | 91 | 37 |
[WP] The aliens found you in hypersleep on your derelict ship and brought you onto theirs. You've awoken and escaped into their maintenance tunnels and the only thing you've found that you can eat is the aliens themselves.
|
“Human! What the fuck are you doing!?” I heard a voice shout at me, in perfect English.
I looked up slowly, startled, crumbs dropping from my face. It was too dark to see who or what the owner of the voice was, I could only make out what seemed to be the silhouette of a man. A very short, round man.
“Uhh... I’m... ...hungry.” I slowly said through a mouthful of cake.
“That’s not fucking food! Fuck! That was James! How did you even kill him!?”
The voice had a sense of anger, confusion, and even a hint of fear in it.
I didn’t understand what the little fat man was saying. What I was eating was cake. A huge lump of cake. I found it impaled on a pipe down a huge ventilation shaft. Normally, I wouldn’t have put any of it near my mouth, but it had smelled so fucking good. And I was hungry.
“Listen, this is cake. I don’t know what you call it but this is food where I come from.” I thought it would be a good time to explain myself. From the vibe I was getting, I had fucked up, and I wanted the chubby cunt yelling at me to understand my take on the situation. “I woke up strapped in a chair made of ginger bread and twizzlers- erm- like, little bands of gelatin-“
“Yeah I know what twizzlers are.” He said quickly, cutting me off.
“Uhh... Yeah, well, I bit off the bands around my hands and wandered my way here. Now I don’t know what type of messed up candy land fantasy this is, but if you could tell me what I did wrong I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“I’ll fucking tell you what’s fucking wrong you piece of shit. You just fucking ate James! We saved your sorry ass from a burning ship and in return you gave us the materials for a closed casket funeral! the The round man shouted at me.
I was getting mad now. “This is fucking cake! ...Cunt!” I yelled at him.
“You just don’t understand.” The round man said, sounding as if he were beginning to cry. He slowly stepped his way towards me. It was then, once he was a few feet away from me that I saw that he highly resembled the lump of cake I was eating.
“Oh shit.” I said. “You’re a cake person.”
He swung his fist at me and decked me in the jaw. It tasted like a brownie with peanuts.
“God, stop! Don’t do that you asshole.” I said.
“You’re going to pay for this!” He shouted, continuing to swing at me.
But with every punch, his little sweet fists flakes crumbs of chocolate and peanut. My face was too hard for him to damage it; he was damaging himself and I wasn’t feeling any pain.
“Arrgh!...” the cake man groaned as his hands broke off. “Fuck... you!!!” He shouted.
“Listen- Oof- ah- stop- god!” He kept hitting me in between words. I grabbed his small hand and slapped him in the face. “Listen, this cake thing I’m eating was dead when I found it. Some freak accident. What you’re doing is hurting yourself. So stop.”
He took in a deep breath and raised his gumdrop eyes to mine.
“Ok. I’m done. Ok... but... James, man. James.”
“Just take me to someplace where I can speak to someone. Someone in charge. We can work this out.” I said, begging the cake man to see reason.
“Ok... ok.” He said, grabbing my arm and leading me away.
|
I remember the cold flakes of skin that fell as my hypersleep module was deactivated. The module was cramped and uncomfortable, my limbs difficult to move in the tight space. From outside the module, I could hear the clicks and rumbles that could only come from another form of life, as they felt around the hunk of metal that encapsulated me, trying to find a way to open it. However, I knew of a way to escape. A button that was located right by my fingers, placed there in the event outside forces couldn't open it. I couldn't use it then, whatever creatures lurked outside may not be friendly. So, I waited.
Time blurred past me, as I wondered how I ended up here. I could hardly remember, the only fragments of my past being a ship, red lights, and a banging on metal. Was the light from flames? No, it could be from alarms too. Maybe it wa- My thoughts were interrupted by a door shutting, and a sudden silence overtakes the room. I take the opportunity to escape.
The button fell into its socket as I pressed it, the module opening up to an unorthodox room. Corners were curved, with an almost unnatural sleekness, but a small hatch marked one wall. I crouched down, pulling at the edges until it fell off, crawling inside it. I put the hatch back on, and crawled through.
Days passed, and occasionally I looked out a window, only to see distant stars streak across black skies, no sign of landing. I refrained from eating, due to never finding a kitchen of some sort. These aliens, it seems as though they had evolved to be Iithovores, creatures that survived off of minerals. Watching them eat was... Odd. They would glare at the food, clicking at it, unhinging their mouth. A liquid, typically transparent, would be it, dissolving the rock, and then once it was sufficiently small enough, they would eat.
More days passed, and I could tell my time would come soon if I didn't eat. While my crawling through maintenence tunnels was largely silent, the rumblings of my stomach were not. Quickly, I reached my conclusion.
The aliens.
I stalked them through grates, watching as they walked from room to room, hallway to hallway, going about their tasks. Some continued to tinker with the hypersleep module, likely trying to reverse engineer it, some managed rock supplies, while others stood guard. I had my eye on a particular alien; one that was currently tinkering alone with my module. I slowly opened the hatch, lurking closer to it. I counted down in my head, waiting for the perfect moment.
When that moment came, I lunged, grabbing it from behind. I clapped a hand over its maw, holding it closed so no acid could come out. I grabbed the tool it held in its hand, stabbing it repeatedly with it, as a thick silver blood drizzled out of its wounds. A growl emanated, but it was short-lived as it's life drained out of it. I watched as it dropped to the floor, lifeless. A quick glance of the room told me no suspecting aliens were near. I glanced at it, watching its blood pool around it.
My hunger took over as I kneeled down, showing my teeth. I looked at the open throat, and bit. I bit it more and more, satisfying my growing hunger. Soon, I had my fill, dragging the corpse into the tunnels for later.
The others quickly caught on, spending days searching all the rooms for a trace of the monster who had done this. However, I still was able to elude them, and my hunger was able to be satisfied.
| 2018-07-30T11:21:39 | 2018-07-30T10:21:42 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip.
|
"Oh dear" I said to myself, looking at this tar coming from my finger.
"Ha! Well, proves that no human is exempt from sin."
I thought about what could have blackened my own blood, I don't remember anything that I could have caused, or done wrong.
"Oh" I remembered.
I went on far too many websites without my parent's permission.
|
Turns out following the rules of god was the wrong way..
Turns out following the Bible to a t, never wearing cotton, the whole fish thing was wrong..
That woman who was dying I couldn’t touch her,
Turns out slaves where bad...
Turns out cutting my wife’s hands off was evil..
I needed a moment
| 2018-08-04T10:38:53 | 2018-08-04T09:44:59 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] The world's tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it.
|
In a time when knights and dragons played a deadly version of capture the horde, only the elite dragons managed to protect theirs. One such dragon was Squeak-Squeak, the smallest dragon. Squeak-Squeak’s horde may not have been giant and filled with rubies or pearls, but he was proud of it all the same. He owned a single gold coin he had gotten from his mother.
While most dragons protected their horde with their flaming breath or fearsome claws, Squeak-Squeak had the greatest power of all: cuteness. He had a simple yet extremely effect way of dealing with knights. First, he would look as cute as possible. His favorite way was to peer over the top of his coin with his tail curling over the bottom. If the knight continued to steal his coin, he would let his eyes fill up with tears and began squeaking loudly. At this point one of two things would happen. Most often the knight would give the coin back to a then happily squeaking Squeak-Squeak. However, if the knight tried to leave with it, he would soon be a pile of ash.
Now, you may be wondering: how does he use cuteness in the second way? Simple, so far I’ve only told you about the smallest dragon and his horde. A much larger dragon was always lurking nearby. You see, this dragon was his mother and Squeak-Squeak was HER horde. Between the two of them, no knight ever managed to steal their hordes.
|
Tiyre was born into this world out of a gleaming pale green egg. His parents had always been so proud of him.
Although how his Titanic parents could produce a baby the size of a local field mouse is beyond him.
At his age, he should be half the size of his parents by now.
Finally, the day came where he would be considered an adult. His parents gave him one gold coin to start his hoard, and left.
Glittering gold. There was nothing quite so beautiful. It nearly brought a tear to his eye as he settled down for a nap in his cave.
*tug* *tug*
"WHO DARES TO ATTEMPT STEALING FROM ME!?"
The creature stopped its tugging and began to skitter towards Tiyre. It clicked its mandibles, even as Tiyre breathed Dragonfire. The creatures exoskeleton was tough, while it seemed in pain, the creature trudged on.
Tiyre attempted to bite the creature, lift it high above, and split it in two. Unfortunately, the creature bent and bit his wings. Infuriated, his bite tightened and after the sounds of cracking and shattering its oozing mass was plunged into.
It was actually pretty tasty after a little more cooking.
He stared at his coin once more and began to dream of future piles of wealth.
| 2017-09-07T13:15:56 | 2017-09-07T10:50:06 | 44 | 30 |
[WP] You’re a child psychologist and, to your horror, you discover that your patients all have the same imaginary friend.
|
Laurie Mathers knew that the closed study door was Daniel's way of saying that he wanted to be left alone. But he had been so restless, so unsettled ever since he returned from work this evening, that Laurie figured it would be better to be safe than sorry. People always thought that child psychologists had it easy, but she knew how draining it was for Daniel.
"Honey?" she said, opening the door after knocking twice. "Just wanted to see if you wanted company..."
She froze as the visual clues filled her in. The scattered reports on the table, the half-filled glass of whiskey next to the laptop, the dishevelled husband with a vacant look in his eyes.
The loaded gun on the table.
"Honey? What's this..."
"Sit down," he said, motioning towards the chair opposite him. "We've got to talk."
Laurie took a seat. Anyone else would have hesitated, have backed out slowly while trying to decide whether to call the cops or the divorce attorney first. But she knew Daniel well, trusted him. He couldn't hurt her.
"What's wro-" she started, before Daniel cut her off. This close to him, she could smell the alcohol off his breath.
"I pieced it together, it all makes sense," he said, after a moment's pause. He flipped open the closest folder, pointed at the picture of the child on the first page. "That's Henri Gunther. Nine years old, found to be self-harming after both parents were jailed for drug abuse. Foster parents were at their wits' end."
Laurie thought she knew where this was going, but she wasn't sure yet, so she kept her lips sealed.
"And here's Ronald Tibbins," Daniel continued, pulling open another folder. "He's eleven this year, known to have uncontrollable fits of rage in school. His parents didn't know how to control him, stem the anger, so they brought him in to see me too."
"I remember these," said Laurie. "I think you told me about them before. You helped them both, didn't you? They got better, never needed to come back again?"
"I've got three more of these cases here, all with similar problems, similar resolutions," Daniel said. "And I don't know how I missed it the first time round. Can you take a guess, Laurie? Can you divine what it is that ties all these miraculous recoveries together?"
Laurie gripped the sides of her chair. "Umm, you managed to help them in time? Managed to solve their-"
Daniel's fist arced through the air, thumping so hard on the table that the whiskey tumbled, spilling across the papers. He didn't even seem to notice.
"They all had a friend!" he shouted, the veins popping on his neck. "An imaginary friend! I thought, well, every kid has one, right? But these cases, it was special! I realised that my medicine, my therapy was only half the answer! These kids, their imaginary friends actually intervened, took an active part to help them recover!"
"That's just silly, " Laurie said. "You're exaggerating. Their friends were probably just figments of imagination, helping them deal with certain issues in their lives."
"The pattern is the same, everytime," said Daniel. "The child has problems, then an imaginary friend appears, who just so happens to implement the exact therapy I recommend. These imaginary friends, they differ in ages, in name, but as far as I've discerned, they all seem to look the same to the kids they've appeared to."
"You're stressed," said Laurie. You're taking this too far, Daniel."
"Am I?" Daniel asked, as he reached for the gun, gripped it tightly in his right, then swivelled it slowly, deliberately.
Till the barrel pointed straight at Laurie.
"Why is it I've never met your family?" asked Daniel. "Why did you insist on us moving so far away from the town we grew up in, to live here where barely anyone knows us? And how did you know to reach out to me, all those years ago, when I was thinking of killing myself?"
"Daniel, please, there's no need to do this."
"But I must," said Daniel.
He fired. It wasn't a large caliber, but in the small confines of the study, it was a thunderclap.
The bullet passed through Laurie harmlessly, as she knew it would. She heard it embed itself into the doorframe behind her, burying itself into the wood.
"Jesus," Daniel said.
"Does it matter?" asked Laurie.
Daniel thought for a while, then finally set the gun down.
"I don't know," he said.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
*"Do you think what you did was okay?"*
*"The others were doing it! I didn't wanna... didn't wanna seem different."*
Jacob. Seven years old, his clothes are far less ragged than the first time she met him. It's a good sign, and she makes a note on her clipboard.
He glances at her suspiciously. "Are-are you writin' something bad about me?"
"No, Jacob. I'm not here to judge you. I'm your friend." Patricia waves a hand, slowly, in his direction. "We just need to talk, about you. How have things been lately?"
Things haven't been good, one paper says, in many more words. Another page gives a teacher's report on his performance. It doesn't disagree.
"I've been good. I made a friend!"
"Really? That's good to hear." Inwardly, Patricia is scared. It's not right, perhaps, not *fair* to the boy sitting in front of her now, but she's still scared. It's been a year, and she's still not sure the child should be around others.
*He has supervision,* she tells herself, and that ends the train of thought. "How have your exercises been going recently?"
"I-I think, um, they've been good. Bob's been helping me."
"Bob?" She makes a few more scribbles on her clipboard. "Is that your friend?"
"Yeah! He's really nice. Most of the time."
She nods. "Aren't you doing your exercises with Ms. Francine?"
"Yep! She says I've been doing much better."
Patricia shuffles through her notes. It does, indeed, say that he's been doing much better. There's no mention of anyone named Bob, though.
"Where'd you meet Bob, Jake?"
"He jus', jus' kinda appeared."
An imaginary friend. *Coping mech. - imag friend?* she scribbles.
The rest of the meeting goes well. Surprisingly so, even.
---
*"If everyone else is doing something bad, would you do it as well?"*
*"I, uh... maybe? I don't wanna do anything bad, but not having friends... that's bad too."*
Liam frowns. "I don't like coming here every month."
*I'm not a huge fan, either.* A bit of an involuntary thought, and maybe unfair, but it's true. By some cruel strike of fate, she has meetings with two of 'those' children on the same day every month. She would have turned one of them away, but she's the local expert.
Perhaps she can talk to someone about moving one of the appointments. Oh well. A task for another, less stressful, day.
"My week's been fun," Liam says, responding to a question she didn't even realize she'd asked. "My birthday's tomorrow, and it's gonna be a big party."
"That's good to hear. Who else is coming to your party?"
"Mom and da-ad, and Marcus and Michael and ... Johnny."
Patricia glances at her notes on him. Nothing shocking, there. He'd been having difficulties fitting in at his new school at first, but at one point he'd suddenly managed to pick up three friends. She hadn't been sure whether to be happy for him, or a bit worried.
She had settled comfortably on the former, after seeing how much he'd improved. Good friends, it seemed, not like the ones he'd had before. "I see. So everyone will be there, hm?"
Jacob frowns. It seems to be a habit of his. She makes another note, then scratches it out. Facial tics aren't anything to focus on. "No... well, I guess? Everyone but Bob is gonna be there."
"Bob?"
"Yeah... he introduced me to Marc n' Mike n' Johnny. Then he kinda disappeared a bit, I think. We still talk sometimes though."
"When did you meet Bob?" She grips her pen a bit tighter.
"I dunno. He talked to me in the car, once, and then we talked more sometimes? Mommy says he's my image-inary friend, but I think he's real."
*That makes four.*
She shivers a bit, involuntary, before the logical part of her brain kicks in. It's a common name, filling children's books and movies, and it shouldn't be strange to have multiple children with imaginary friends of the name. Especially if they all had some kind of mental trauma.
Still...
Patricia makes another note, underlining it.
^^^^r/forricide
| 2017-10-05T18:23:38 | 2017-10-05T14:28:32 | 2,996 | 31 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky.
|
"Red lines?"
"Yes, red lines"
"Coming out of people?"
"Yes"
"What do these red lines look like?"
"Like a thin piece of wool coming out the back of someone's neck. Usually they just drape and hang all slack but I've seen some that are really taut"
"And they connect people you say?"
"Yes. One neck to another. Though it's not often I see that"
"Do you see them on everyone?"
"Everyone. Absolutely everyone. Thankfully most are slack and just run across the floor but in busy places there can be a lot of taut ones running across my eyeline. Sometimes I can't see what's right in front of me"
"I see... ... ... can you touch them?"
"No. They seem so real and I've tried but my hand just passes straight through them"
"Have I got one?"
"Everyone, yours is currently draped over my lap. It runs down your shoulder, across the table, over my lap and under the door"
"Is it doing anything?"
"Not right now but it has been moving a bit, which makes me think you're connected to someone nearby, someone in the building. Yours moves a little when I hear certain footsteps in the corridor outside"
"Certain footsteps?"
"High heels... ... ... Jane doesn't work here does she?"
"No but why is that relevant?"
"I don't want to say"
"I can't help you if you don't tell me everything"
"You'll laugh"
"I'm a professional... I won't laugh"
"I've not just plucked this theory out of thin air, I've seen these lines for two weeks now, you better not laugh"
"Rich, I'm not going to laugh. As your best friend and now a very intrigued medical professional, please tell me"
"Soulmates"
"... ... ... Soulmates?"
"You're laughing"
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are! You're stifling it!"
"Alright I'm sorry! This is just so weird! I'd say you were on drugs if I didn't know you better!"
"Just hear me out"
"Okay go on, I'm sorry... soulmates..."
"Two weeks ago was my wedding"
"I know, I was your best man Rich"
"The lines started when I was standing at the altar, when I thought I was going to faint. One connected Mum and Dad, one connected my sister and Matt, there wasn't one between you and Jane, which doesn't surprise me because you two are terrible together and I can only assume she's the soulmate of Satan... interestingly hers did go downwards"
"Oi, there's nothing wrong with me and Jane!"
"Tell me you're not in love with the nurse who keeps walking past outside then?"
"Sssshhh!"
"See... ... anyway... there was also one between me and Jenny. A really taut one, there, between us as we stood in front of you all... ... ... and then it snapped.
"Snapped?"
"Yeah, it snapped right in front of me and for a moment I had no line. I felt panic right then and loneliness!... oh my God the loneliness, even for just a few seconds it was awful"
"So you don't have one?"
"No I do!... ... as soon as it snapped another just shot up straight in the air, out of the church and into the sky"
"Still there now?"
"Yep"
"Does it ever come down?"
"Sometimes"
"So your soulmate is an....."
"Alien, that's right, I'm like Star Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy, I keep waiting in the park in case I get picked up"
"Well I was going to say airline pilot, Rich"
|
I gazed around the village, blinking in pure astonishment at the spectacle that was unfolding before me. Red lines of light from everybody's hearts were interconnecting with another, even through walls and obstacles. It appeared as though, these lines were connecting two lovers to one another, at least for the most part.
Some did not in fact connect to their lovers, but to other people's paramour's entirely, such as the Hunter's wife and the Blacksmith. The women of the village had often gossiped how those two eyed each other.
However, my surprise soon turned to disappointment when I discovered the line extending from my own chest did not reach to someone else's. It did not even extend to any of the neighbouring villages, but instead reached to the sky.
Unfortunately, this did not surprise me. I was nothing but a lowborn bastard, scrounging for my next meal. How could any woman care for a man and decide to raise a family with him, when he could not even afford to feed himself everyday?
It was a notion that I did not wish upon any other, and perhaps it was for the best that I would not bring about anyone else to my life, when there was already such little value in it anyway.
But then it dawned on me. Why in the four hells did I see these lines, when apparently everyone else was oblivious to it? Surely someone would have noticed these lines sticking out of their chests.
Suddenly, I had the urge to grasp at it. Tangible... I tugged on the line... And then to my astonishment I was yanked forward by the line, almost yanking the breath out of me as well, and yet this was not at all painful. It felt more like a great weight had been relieved from shoulders. Simultaneously the sun began to feel warmer than ever, and the colour of the world shone back into my eyes. A giddy smile formed on face, and an unnatural joy took hold of me.
In the midst of all this splendour, I had almost failed to notice the line slacken and fall. Not falling directly from above, but falling in front of me. An object fell from the sky, with the line, and into a field on the outskirts of the village.
Without a moment's hesitation, I raced to investigate, my heart racing also. In the field, lay a woman, lying perfectly motionless, the line in our hearts connected. She was beautiful, and yet more still than the river water at dawn, but just as captivating.
I walked over to her, anxiousness and dread quickly consuming the remains of my joy. I touched her cheek; cool as the morning's dew. Dead. Hopelessness and sorrow soon took ahold of me once more. Not just for my own sake, but because such a young woman had not lived long enough to fall in love herself.
For a moment, the longest moment I have ever lived, I sat beside her body. All sense and feeling became void. I felt nothing but the hollowness in my own body. No energy could bring me to my feet again, for I was devoid of all substance to maintain it.
Then the void began to chill. And the cool of the chill, warmed in the sunlight. These sensations arose from my hand, which lay next to the woman's body. Except, her body had shifted, and her hand had grasped my own.
'Is everything alright' she asked sleepily.
'I'm not certain' I replied calmly as the line in our hearts faded. 'But I think it will be. Just give it time'.
(First time writing on writing prompts, open to positive criticism, and possible grammatical editing)
- Ragnar
| 2016-08-06T00:34:39 | 2016-08-05T23:09:32 | 73 | 13 |
[WP] A vain, self-absorbed ancestor pissed off a god and was cursed to have his bloodline fall into obsurity. Where ever you go people will forget you, images that capture you will fade, and your name dies on the tip of the tongue. A curse for most but a boon for a thief or assassin.
|
The tattoo suddenly appeared without warning, directly on my left hand, it had a smoke pattern with the word "Oblitus" within the smoky tendrils, the pattern snaked it's way up to my neck, and stopped just before reaching my chin.
Once the pattern reached that point, my coworker suddenly has a blank expression, "Who are you?" He asks, in a confused voice, "This is private property!" I panicked, wondering why he was drawing his gun at me, I ducked behind cover, as soon as I was out of sight, he looked around, confused, he said "What was I just aiming at?" And a few seconds later he just walked away, with a faint glow in his eyes.
After about a week, I had figured out what was happening to me, I was never able to be remembered, the security camera at the Walmart didn't pick up the footage of me. I. Was. Nobody. I had nobody I could think to tell about this, as everyone had forgotten me, "Wait, my family!!!" I exclaimed, my parents should certainly remember me, I rushed to their manor, as I arrived, the security guard tried to stop me from entering, but the intercom said, "Desmond, he's with us!!" He immediately ceased, and kept a close eye on me as I walked through the doors, once I was out of his line of sight, he turned around, and I saw that same glow in the reflection of his face off of the window he was facing.
I crept into my father's study, it was as dank and dimly lit as I had remembered, "The curse has reached you, hasn't it boy?" I heard the voice of my father echo through the room, "Curse?" I asked, "You know about the tattoo?", "Oblitus, the smoke, I know far too well about it, you see, your great great great grandfather had angered Morpheus, the god of sleep, you see, Morpheus has a very strange ability with memories." Father continued to explain the curse, "He can use the River Lithe to erase an entire lifetime of experiences from a man's mind, so when Old Johnathan had stolen a whole gallon of the milk of the Lithe, Morpheus was enraged, and had cursed Johnathan and his whole bloodline to never be remembered again, the curse activates when one of his blood reaches 25, it is a dreadful thing... ", " But how do I undo it?" I asked," How do I return to being remembered?", Father shook his head, " We can never undo it, it is bound to our very DNA." Despair started to fill me, I panicked, more than I had when I had the gun pointed straight at my forehead...
As the years went on, I started to realize, this curse had given me a golden opportunity, you see, as the curse started, people just forgot about me, but now, it has evolved into something I can manipulate, when I so choose, people don't even see me, for hear me, or feel me shift through their pockets, I also picked up a little useful trick, I can make one person remember me for a whole week, until they forget once again, so I quickly developed a charming demeanor, and went to town, all the women I had charmed forgot me as soon as the week was over, I had so many "girlfriends" in one year that it was hard to remember who I had already charmed once before, lucky for me, they couldn't remember the last time I had charmed them into some fun time, but as time went on, it became less satisfying to steal, to flirt, to prank, and I just, stopped one day, it was only so fulfilling for a short few years, so in time, I learned to do something new.
All the people I saved in the past decade since I began to, have no memory of being in danger, it's a thankless job, but it's satisfying nonetheless, as I went on saving lives, I had been at it for about 25 years, I was now in my late 50s, and I was so sure I had no one to talk to, no one to have remember me, when a young man approached me, and raised his arm, that's when I saw it, "Oblitus" and smoke, I had realized, those few years I spent having some "fun time", had caused another person to be cursed, another of Jonathan's blood, my son, had fallen to this same fate.
|
I sat on the edge of the bridge, dangling my feet in the cool water. The way my life has gone, I wondered if the reflection staring back at me was even real. How can I see it when I’ve always been damn near invisible? It’s been that way for all of my family members for as long as I can remember. I dedicated my life to breaking this strange cycle of anonymity, but to no avail. I thought that if I accomplished enough, someone would finally know my name. I finished top of my class at Juilliard, but even then, when they called my name at graduation, I heard confused whispers of “who is that?” from the people around me. How could I still have not made a name for myself? I was able to perform violin concerts at several well-known music halls, but every time someone announced my coming onto the stage, they would say it was my debut performance. But honestly, that wasn’t the strangest thing. The next day, there was never even a review of my performance! Not online, not in the newspaper, nothing! It was as if it had never happened at all. After two years and many concerts, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I looked at the water flowing by me, contemplating my life and feeling more worthless and alone than ever. At least growing up, I could commiserate with my family, but I am the only one left now.
Unsure of what to do, I decided to visit my family mausoleum. Honestly, I had never gone there too often because the place really creeped me out. It seemed so over the top, like something made to bury royals, not people who no one ever thought about or remembered. I opened the heavy golden doors and walked inside. Walking to the back, I tripped on something I had never noticed before. It was an old wooden box, covered in dust. It did not look special at all, but something told me to open it. Inside was a scroll that was luckily in much better condition than the box. On the scroll was my family history, a history I never knew. Apparently, my family HAD been royals, which explained the elaborate mausoleum but not why we had been forgotten, so I read on. I’ll give you the short version of what it said. My great-great-great-great-great grandmother was someone renowned for her limitless beauty, and she was next in line for the throne of some old country I have never heard of. There was even a small portrait of her inside the box, which stunned me because any paintings or photos of my family usually disappeared immediately. She was tall, had long blonde hair, green eyes that were almost electric, and was someone I bore an eerie resemblance to. Anyway, on the eve of her coronation, she ran off with the son of the water god. The water god was livid, and he cursed all of her descendants to eternal obscurity.
After reading all of this, everything felt so pointless. All of the work I’d put into my career as a violinist was a waste. No matter what I did, I’d never be famous or even recognized at all. I walked the three miles home in the rain and flopped onto to my bed without even changing out of my wet clothes. I cried for hours until I fell asleep. But the next morning, I felt oddly happy. Actually, I couldn’t stop laughing. You see, I finally realized that with this curse, I could do anything I wanted. I could rob a bank, and no one would be able to prove it was me! My image would be automatically erased from security cameras, I’d be unstoppable! Why had no one in my family thought to do this before? I don’t have to be the world’s greatest musician because I can be the world’s greatest criminal! I’ve robbed so many banks over these past three months and made more money than I can even spend. I feel freer than I ever have in my life. I may not have broken the curse, but I have happily adapted to it. You see, officer, I am the one you all have been searching for. I am who is responsible for all of these mysterious robberies on the news. I could spend the next couple hours describing in great detail everything I’ve done, I could even tell you my name, but it really doesn’t matter, officer. You won’t remember me in the morning. You won’t even remember what to say to the other policemen when you take me outside. Well, I think I’ll be going now.
| 2020-07-06T14:07:30 | 2020-07-06T13:52:33 | 52 | 18 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa.
|
"I can't believe that I've found you!" she screamed. Her face was practically glowing, she was so excited. She ran forward and leapt into my arms, and before I could even think to react her voice was resonating in my head.
"*And don't you even think of dropping me, butterfingers! I remember how you dropped your first girlfriend*."
My arms reflexively came up. Just in time too. She collapsed into my arms. Her arms latched around my neck, but she didn't put any effort into keeping herself up.
"Cori?" I asked. But it couldn't be. The girl in my head wasn't real. I've had schizophrenia since the day I'd been born. Sure, the medicine did nothing to help it, but then again...
"Of course it's me!" she chirped. "And no, you're not schizophrenic. Otherwise..."
"*I would be, too*."
And there it was. The voice that responded to my every thought. Smooth and melodic and just a little deeper than average for a girl. The same voice that comforted me when I broke up with my first girlfriend, and helped me with my math homework.
"Is it... it's really you..." Tears had come to my eyes. I tried to wipe them, but a soft hand and even softer tissue was already dabbing at my face.
"Yeah," she said. Her voice was softer than the brash and explosive timbre I was used to, but I couldn't fault her on it. This was an emotional time for both of us.
Judging from the adorable, wry smile that felt oddly in place on her, I could tell that she agreed.
Oh, and judging from the way that she was suddenly interested in anything but me told me that she was blushing from my thoughts.
"You're a jerk," she whispered. I laughed. She already knew that. She heard my thoughts for the last 37 years. "I expected you to be taller."
I winced. She knew that would hurt. Then again, I didn't expect her to be this pretty.
The blush on her face made me smile. Looks like I'm still the better heckler. God, it was amazing to finally be able to see the reactions on her face. It was also amazing to know that I wasn't crazy.
But more than all of that? It was nice to hold a friend. I hugged her tighter, and swore to myself that I would never let her go.
I didn't need to read her mind to know that she thought the same. The way her grip on my neck tightened told me enough.
|
She has always been there for me. She has always been honest with me.
When I was 4 years old, she told me Mr Bunny had been saying mean things about me. I threw him in the bin. My mother was upset she said why did I throw away my favourite toy. I said he's not my favourite any more.
When I was 6, she taught me what violence was. I drew a picture of violence in my class at school. The teacher was upset with me and told me I was wrong. Everything I've learned of life since then assures me I was right.
When I was 13 she told me that Gary in my class wanted to kiss me. I walked over to him and kissed him first and it was warm and wet and weird.
When I was 15 she told me not to tell anyone what uncle Paul likes me to do with the video camera. She said they wouldn't understand, and I was getting too old for it anyway.
When I was 21 she was all I could see and all I could hear. I asked her for some time alone. I bought some flowers for myself but forgot to buy a vase to put them in. I rested them in a pint glass and didn't leave the house as I watched them slowly shrivel over the next week.
When I was 25 she came back and I felt a shiver down my spine and I don't know if it was bad or good, but I didn't want to ask her to go away again. So she stayed.
When I was 26 she told me that I needed to die so she could live. She told me what to do with the gun.
My heart stopped for 30 seconds at the hospital. They told me I would be able to talk again with rehabilitative therapy, but that I would be disfigured for life. They told me she wasn't real. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and given a lot of pills to take regularly. They brought me peace. I didn't see her again in a long time.
When I was 37 I heard a familiar voice behind me, and felt a shiver down my spine. "Turn around, did I find you?" Her speech was slurry and lisped the same way mine was after the incident.
I turned around slowly. She hadn't aged a day the whole time I'd known her, but this time half her face was grotesque and scarred the same way mine was, except the opposite half. She touched me on the arm, and I knew she was real this time.
I was hers again.
| 2019-09-14T13:01:41 | 2019-09-14T11:01:10 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You never found your soulmate in life, so you begin looking in death.
|
It's been almost 40 years since I was born. My entire life, I've been a hopeless romantic. In grade school, I gave every girl in my class a Valentine's Day card and would always share my lunch. My mum packed plenty of food for me to share, and on days where no one would share, I just ate it all. In junior high, I would always ask the prettiest girl in class to the formals and homecoming.
By high school, I'd become accustomed to being rejected. I don't know exactly what it was about me. My mum said I was handsome and strong, but girls just didn't seem to be interested in me. Even as I went into college and my friends and classmates started getting serious about dating, I seemed to be a permanent third or fifth wheel when it came to spending time with my friends and members of the opposite sex. I'd write to my mum, she'd tell me to be patient and that there was someone for everyone.
After college, I took a job as an accountant. I made good money, I bought my mum's house so that she and I would have someplace to live, and I was always polite to my coworkers, but no one ever seemed interested in me. Online, women rejected me, but in my real life, I couldn't even get a rejection because I had such a hard time mustering up the courage to ask a woman out.
There was a real stunner in my office named Vanessa. She always treated me kindly, but it was obvious that she wasn't interested. We had a carpool together, and she was always the last I dropped off or the last to drop me off, depending on which one of us drove. My mum would be out on the porch some days, rocking in her chair, smoking a cigarette, waving as Vanessa drove off. "That girl's a real stunner, why doesn't she like you?" she'd ask all the time, and I never had a good answer.
All that changed a few weeks ago. Vanessa was driving, and a freak thunderstorm and downpour had kicked up. We slid through an intersection and a semi truck struck the driver's side of Vanessa's vehicle. I was thrown clear just as the airbags deployed and landed ass-first in the mud of a drainage ditch 30 yards away. I lost my wind, bruised my tailbone, cut my forehead, that was it. Vanessa's neck was broken and her brain was turned to jam on impact; the airbags preserved the rest of her physical body, but she was dead before my ass hit earth.
They asked me to confirm her identity at the morgue 12 hours later. She was so beautiful.
They asked me to speak at the funeral. It turns out she had very few friends and no family in town.
I watched them inter her later that afternoon. My mum held my hand as I cried.
I've got a shovel. The earth can't have settled too tightly just yet. It's dark tonight. I'm going to have you, Vanessa.
|
There's a vast, black void sandwiched between heaven and hell, crawling with souls who weren't good or bad enough for either. Some call it purgatory, but the popular term around here is "Leechland."
That's what it feels like sometimes. Knowing there's no chance of regaining life, but realizing you were too damn boring to get placed anywhere definitive in death. A leech holding on to emotions that I barely have a grasp on anymore.
Interaction with any other souls is forbidden. That'd probably make things too exciting. I always make an effort to look up during my daily walk - to see if the blackness looks any different. Spoiler alert: it doesn't. Wandering, lonely spirits weave in and out of currents - like riding waves of ink - to get to new places. We convince ourselves they're "new," anyway.
Today I decided to look someone in the eye. It was terrifying at first. Does that cross the line? Is that considered interaction? Not like I made much eye contact with people when I was alive. And certainly not with the fool who hit my SUV two months ago.
She was the first spirit I saw. Her eyes had so much life left despite their otherworldly whiteness. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her current, which we rode until no one else was in sight.
We were silent until she glanced at me again. "Why did you look at me?"
"Desperation," I admitted.
"I've been looking at people for weeks and you're the first to stare back."
"Well, then. I guess it's destiny."
We crossed currents every day for the next few weeks. Brief chats became lengthy conversations. A fleeting kiss turned into a sequence of them. A forbidden friendship became an even more forbidden romance.
"We have to stop taking the currents," she said one day. "More people are staring at me...at us. I think someone's watching."
I shrugged. "Who cares?"
She laughed. How wonderful, to still be able to laugh and watch someone else do it. "You're right. Who cares."
We got a notice the next morning. It appeared before us, written in white like a hand-crafted cloud, as we hid in our own little section of nothingness.
Apparently, if you disobey the rules in Leechland, you don't get sent to hell. You simply cease to physically exist - a mind without a body. "Your disappearance will commence in five minutes," the notice read, before it was whisked away.
She stared at me. We didn't speak for a moment, then she wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so glad we found each other," she said.
I completed the embrace, holding her tight. "So am I."
There we remained, feeling each other's faint warmth as we became one with the abyss.
***
/r/GigaWrites
| 2016-08-15T15:20:32 | 2016-08-15T14:45:29 | 123 | 37 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
Tick tock
I had hoped, at one time, that my number would be big. After all who would want to be one of those poor kids, they who turn 18 and find their actual age written between beneath their thumb. Can you imagine the parents as they count down the days, not knowing when it will come, just that it will hang over their heads for the whole year.
Tick tock
I once told my mother that if my number was 18, I would drink bleach; who could take the anticipation?
Tick tock
Mother sent me to my room without desert. She said it was a horrible thing to say. "kill myself because I can't take the anticipation".
Tick tock
'Anticipation', such a remarkable world: it implies things that have yet to come.
Tick tock
But long after the sun collapsed, after the last flame of the last star had died out, after the heat death of the universe, when entropy finally won, there was only one sound in all of creation:
Tick tock: *it's not a clock but the beating of my heart*.
At first I thought my number said 8. I thought this was odd. And then it clicked, it only took a second, and fror some reason I felt delight. I would live forever.
Tick tock,
I forgot though that the thing about forever is that it never stops, even when the universe goes kaploot. So I now float in space. As I will always. Sometimes I think about the forever I have lived and then I remember, forever is always yet to come. The empty world that I've so far visited is exactly like the 100 other forever yet to come. As I said, that's the thing about forever, who would want to live forever, when forever doesn't stop? But that's all I want. More than anything, is for forever to finally stop, for this 'me' that will never die to stop experiencing and fucking die. A consciousness must devour something other than itself.
|
The Life Brand is thought to be a flawless and efficient system by most of the world's population. Few oppose the mandatory injection of nanites that will one day create your Life Brand because they view the world as fair, now.
I get it, I really do. The Border Wars of the 21st century were bitter and terrifying for everyone, and then when Automatons began to dominate formerly middle and lower class workers, billions of people were displaced out of the workforce. Another war, fought for decades, eventually brought us to peacetime when a renounced Swiss doctor developed nanotech.
The political geography of the world changed. Borders were dissolved, entire governments gutted and destroyed, and everyone was classified into a career path based on the results of three different tests and a psychological evaluation. Then the good doctor developed the Life Brand and pitched it to our fledgling united government.
They ate it up like a sweet treat, and the Life Brand program was in full effect within five years. For the most part, we are better for it. We've seen no war in a decade, and Life Brand gets a chunk of the credit.
I always feared my branding day. I was always very aware of my mathematical genius and technological prowess. It didn't help to quell the fear of getting classified into a sub-optimal field for me. So it's no surprise that I felt terror and a deep sense of shame when my brand finally activated at 12:08:47 PM universal standard time. I wasn't branded to be a mathematician, an engineer, a networks security specialist...No. It was far worse than that.
"Hello, Mr. Sullivan. I'm Gemma, and I am your assigned organ requisition agent for today. Can I interest you in a last meal or a final judgement blow job?"
I really hate the Life Brand system...
| 2017-03-16T00:57:55 | 2017-03-15T22:51:56 | 63 | 37 |
[WP] In a shocking twist, Belgium successfully conquers the world. Part of their success is due to the fact that nobody quite believes this is real, even several years into Belgian world rule.
|
"Belgium holds the world record of going the most days without a government. They stripped the Iraqis of the title. Eight months. You know what they did? You know what they did to protest this strange state of affairs?"
"Jesus, Frank. Why are you always going on about Belgium?"
"They call it the Fries revolution. Fries is their national dish. They walked through the streets, angrily eating fries, to show their dissatisfaction with the overall situation."
Jerry took another disgruntled sip of his beer. It was a wheat beer, Belgian style. Were I to mention this fact he'd most likely take a swing at me.
"What I'm saying, Jerry, is that Belgium is nonsense. And when the world stopped making sense, in 2017, they seized control."
"The Brussels sprout theory," he said. "Bunch of horseshit."
The Brussels sprout theory was proposed in 2023 by a distinguished economist. He showed that all major political events since 2017 could be traced back to Brussels. That was the oddly boring garden from which the blossoms of ambition seemed to spring. That was where treaties were signed, diplomatic channels were opened, and where talented new statesmen were groomed for future endeavours. Brussels. With the political scheming came the economic implications. Those privy to the goings on of Brusselian cocktail parties had the power to predict the rise and fall of dollars, euros, and yuans. Or so it was claimed.
"I'm telling you, Jerry," I said, "the Belgians have outwitted us all."
"No," he said, banging his flat hand against the bar counter. "You don't know a damn thing. You haven't the slighest idea."
In the few weeks we'd known each other, I'd never seen him like this. He grabbed hold of my shoulder and stared at me, his eyes bulging.
"They are pure evil."
I didn't know what to say. "Jerry? Are you alright?"
"There are idealists in this world. Pathetic pieces of shits like me, thinking we could all live together in harmony. But we are the exception. The others are the rule. And rule they do."
"What are you talking about?" I said.
He went on. "A single, functional quantum computer gives you more power than a nuclear bomb. And when you are the first one to use it ... then you get to decide **everything**. You can break encryption. All encryption. Everything the world wants to keep secret. From friends and foes. You know it all. Because they don't hide it very well when it's encrypted. When their scientists say it would take a hundred billion years to decipher a single paragraph. But when you can do so in a matter of minutes ... then you've got the whole world in your hands."
"You think the Belgians got their hands on a quantum computer? Why?"
"Because I built the damn thing," he said.
There was a long silence.
"Heb je gevonden," I said, as I stared into Jerry's bulging eyes, waiting for the realization to hit him. "Don't worry," I said. I pointed at his now empty beer mug. "It will be painless."
It was a bittersweet feeling, depriving the world of its greatest scientist. But there could be only one machine. Our machine. "Unity," I said, staring at Jerry as he choked, "makes Strength."
|
"Son, you have no choice."
The young atheist boy stared at his father with distrust.
"You have to learn dutch, french, and german."
"But-
"I know. I know. It was hard for me to take in too. But this is a different time of our country, Jimmy. The cocoa gods and goddesses have made their decision, and this is what they want. If you don't believe in cocoa, then you will go to vanilla hell. Besides, wouldn't you rather bite into Belvas bar than Yucksheys? Thank god they're saving us from that unholy excuse for chocolate. Oh and who could forget their rich cuisine such as stoemp and mussels... did you know that they invented french fries? You should love and believe our saviors!"
"Hey, what's wrong with Hersheys?... Why are we like Belgium, dad?"
"Who's Belgium? What do you me-
Both father and son stopped in their tracks as they heard a shrill piercing scream in the distance. Then they saw what the horrible noise was coming from.
"Oh boy..." Jimmy felt very concerned about the lack of reaction from his father. It was almost as if this was a thing he saw everyday.
But for him, it was truly a horrifying sight. A young woman was completely covered in liquid chocolate, and through it all they could see red marks throughout her naked body.
Bite marks.
The poor woman dropped to her knees in utter exhaustion. Jimmy then realized that someone had pounced on her and immediately closed his eyes shut.
In the blink of an eye, hands were forcing him to the spot, forcing him to watch. As he struggled to escape through his father's grip he could hear the horrifying sounds of the man violating the chocolate drizzled worker's skin. Jimmy knew from that day on, he'd never have a normal life.
"This is reality, son..." A shudder went down his spine at those words that would forever linger in his head.
So here he was, about to have a gamble at this new experience. Too long, too many years where he'd see the tempting smiles on his fellow friends. The irritating headlines, which he still had a hard time comprehending, naming the new foods, including that chocolate, a "sensation across the nation". He couldn't take it anymore. He was tired of being a outcast among his peers. It wasn't helping that his entire household was fulled to the brim with the stuff. What happened to good ol' soul food and KFC? Even if it made everyone fat...
When he took that first bite into the foreign goodness, he felt entirely different. The more he chewed and gnawed at it, the more wonderful he felt. Why had he been so afraid of it? It was just ecstasy in a different form!
One chocolate turned into dozen...and he knew he was a believer. A true supporter of the idea of the new ways. There was no more denial, no more confusion. Until now, he questioned the idea of it, just like how his government did years back. But now, he was enlightened of the truth. There was only one thing to do. Running to his room, Jimmy got on his computer and opened up the Atheist Subreddit.
Non believers deserved to be shunned, after all.
| 2017-12-02T19:04:33 | 2017-12-02T18:34:58 | 96 | 31 |
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