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[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect.
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It was a natural fit, ending up as an obstetrician. There was a satisfaction in seeing the beginning of someone's life, and then knowing the end. That was, until about 10 years ago. It was infrequent at first. METEOR, the first one said. Now almost all of them do.
The telescope in my living room was bought once I understood the situation fully. Peering out into the stars puts my conscience somewhat at ease.
I'm delivering the last old people who will ever walk this earth.
|
Nobody sees the world in the same way. Some people see it as an adventure, others as a game. Me? I've never had the liberty of enjoying it.
Imagine knowing how something would play out before it happened. Imagine the surprise of life being taken out. Imagine the joy of living being sucked away because all you can ever think about is death.
That's what my life is like. I see dead men walking. Not literally. I don't mean I see zombies. I mean I can see how everybody will die before they even know.
Imagine seeing your newborn child. Imagine holding him in your arms. Imagine trying to smile at your wife when you see the words "measles" appear above his head. You know there's a vaccine. You know you can stop it. But your wife doesn't believe in vaccines. You have to struggle with your inner demons as you watch your child grow up in front of your eyes, only to be stricken down when you least expect it. You have to comfort your wife and tell her that "he's going to be okay" when you know the truth.
That's when you realize that the "suicide" that appears above your wife's head is indeed going to come true, and you can't stop it. No matter how much your comfort her, no matter how many times you tell her it's going to be okay, one night you still wake up and she's gone. The search parties never find her, but you know the truth.
When you finally get back to work, you learn that your boss died of a heart attack. You pretend to be shocked. "He was so young" you say. "How could this happen?" You know it's fate. You know you can't stop it.
The years drag by. Some people leave, others pass away. Cancer, heart attacks, murder, suicide, car accidents. The list goes on and on, each in the exact same way you knew it would.
You start taking mental notes of the most common causes. Suicide seems to be rampant, but murder is a close second. As people leave the office one way or the other, they're always replaced by the same one. Murder.
As the last "cancer" one dies, they are replaced with one that you are not very familiar with. "Electric Chair".
You find it strange. After all, the only crime punishable by death is... murder.
Perhaps fate can be changed. You realize this could be your chance for redemption. One day, he leaves work early, and you follow him into the alley. He looks back, and sees you following him. He tries to say hello. With no words, you pull the gun from your coat and shoot him in the chest. He falls to the ground, limp. Is he dead? You don't know. You've never killed a man before.
You look behind you. Is someone there? Did someone see? Nobody is around. Nobody saw... except the camera.
You forgot the office had CCTV cameras inside AND outside. You panic. You have to stop this. You're a hero, not a killer. You saved all your co-workers. You've stopped a murderer. You can't let anyone see the footage.
You get in your car and drive to the back of the building. You take the lighter from your pocket and spark it. You throw it into the paper bin outside and watch it burn. Before you can get back into your car, the burning paper has ignited the tires. You watch, helplessly, as your car erupts into flames. You run away as fast as you can, until the explosion rocks you off your feet. The burning car had ignited the gas lines. The whole building is gone. Nobody could have survived. My co-workers were all accidentally murdered.
Before the sirens closed in, I took one last look back to make sure I at least took care of my quarry.
There was a trail of blood leading to an empty parking space. The murderer had still gotten away.
"I'll consider this your official confession." The police officer said to me as the dim lights continued to flicker.
"Yes. That's what I would call it." I replied calmly.
"You realize what the sentence is for murder around here, correct?"
"Yes." I replied once again. "Electric chair. I've been able to read my own cause of death for years."
| 2015-03-31T10:42:03 | 2015-03-31T09:32:55 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] You are The Memory Broker. You copy other people's memories and sell them to people who want to remember things they never did. Your latest client is a ten year-old girl who slides you her piggy bank and begs you to help her grandmother remember her.
|
She smashes her piggy bank to bits and pieces on the table in front of me. The total is twenty-seven dollars and sixty-five cents.
"Girl, that's only enough for six seconds of memory, no audio, no commentary, only visual. 480p. You sure you want this?"
The grandmother sits on the couch with a blank look on her face, slowly forgetting the world, as she did with her granddaughter.
She's reluctant, but doesn't hesitate. "Yes please. Can you help me pick out the memory?"
"Sure, it's free of charge. Can you describe your memory?"
"The time I broke her favourite glass. Please," she seemed really determined.
"You sure? Alright..." that kind of memory wasn't a popular choice, but I do as she asks. I start copying the memory, detail by detail, and that's when it overwhelms me. Her fear of being punished, her bleeding finger, then the loving but stern gaze of her grandmother looking down at her, dressing the wound. I tear up a bit, but it's not professional to cry and so I get a hold of myself. It's sad that her grandmother wouldn't experience the multitude of emotions the same way I did.
As I start to transfer them to her grandmother it's as if she was watching a movie only she could see. The emotions splay across her face and at the end of those six mere seconds, tears fall from her face and she turns to look at her granddaughter. I think it worked. They embrace like two star-crossed lovers and tears fall everywhere.
"Lisa... Lisa I'm sorry, Lisa. Grandma's here now."
I excuse myself from the room and allow myself to be unprofessional, just this once.
|
My job is pretty boring. See this memory, stuff it in a small crystal ball, look at the swirly clouds inside, pow, you're done. Some guy who wants a hot girlfriend but will never get one comes to the Memory House and asks for a hot girlfriend memory. I toss him the orb and he swallows it, pow, he gets a memory; now he can jack off easily without the internet. Or I'll give some memory of a grand vacation, or a happy wife, etc. etc.
Get a memory, put in orb, give orb with memory to guy who wants it, they remember it as if they did the memory. Simple. And really, really boring.
Of course, dealing with memories and whatnot, there are moments that stick with you. I remember that back in the day, back when I had just started my job, a little girl, about ten years of age, had come to the Memory House and asked for help.
I was manning the counter at the time, so she went to me and pulled out a piggy bank from her backpack. She had a bit of trouble holding the pig, and had a big smile on her face as she dropped the thing on the counter. I looked behind the girl, no queue today, I decided she could take her time to do whatever she wanted.
"You do memories, right?" she asked in this sweet, almost pre-pubescent voice that kids have at that age. I nodded in the affirmative.
"Good." she said simply. She was confident, but the confidence began to break down. Now the little girl was nibbling her lips. She looked up at me and her eyes were twinkling under the fluorescent lights, but she was frowning.
"Can you," she began, then broke off. I cocked my head in curiosity. "Can you... give my grandma her memories back?"
"Ah-" I said and then stopped. The girl's request wasn't possible. We only had memories donated by anonymous persons. It was impossible to find the girl's grandma's memories, even if they existed in our database. The girl probably thought the Memory House could restore memories. I had to break it to her.
I was about to speak, but she broke in, "'Cause my grandma has Alzheimers. Mom says that grandma won't be able to know me anymore. So I think you can help a lot. Doctors don't know what to do."
I took a deep breath, "We can't help you." I said bluntly. The little girl's eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.
"Really?" she asked. The little girl wasn't crying, but she was twisting and turning as if she had a million words on her mind.
"No," I replied. "We only keep memories from secret people. Even if your grandma gave us her memories, we wouldn't be able to find her."
The little girl refused to cry. I sighed, unsure what to do, but then left the counter. I walked through the counter door and stepped up to the ten year old. I kneeled down and gave her a hug. She began to cry freely now, and my newly pressed white shirt was getting soiled by her tears. "There, there," I whispered, "it's alright." How long would I have to do this?
"I-i-it's j-ust," the little girl hiccuped, "to-to-today, I tried to g-get grandma a gla-glass of water and I tripped. And then she yelled at me, a-and called me stupid! A-and, she was always so nice. So why is she so mean now. Mom t-told me its because grandma w-was - i-is - sick and c-can't remember m-me s-so I just wanted to help her!" She began to sob loudly. Her wailing echoed off the walls. I hushed her and patted her softly.
"Come on, come on." I said, trying to console her, "It's alright." I had no idea what to do. Suddenly, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightening. "How about this," I began, "why don't you give me your memories of grandma, and then I'll put them in a ball for you, and you can give it to grandma! She'll get to enjoy every part of you!" That was pretty brilliant, on my part.
The little girl stopped crying and looked up at me, "Really?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah." I replied.
So we did the procedure. I gave the girl a few dozen memory balls, all of the same memories she had of her grandma. I told her to feed it to grandma. As the little girl walked away, happy as a clam, I couldn't help but smile as widely as she did.
Of course, I had to pay for it all out of my own pocket, but I still felt pretty good.
Nothing as interesting as that ever happened again, sadly. But, well, you can see here that I've kept an orb for myself. You can 'play' them like a camera recorder. I like to see those memories play out, and sometimes I'll wonder where the girl is today, and whether her grandma stayed as the little girl's grandma.
A bit silly, but I like to think of it as my best moment in an otherwise unmemorable time here, at the Memory House.
-----
/r/yingfire is available for your viewing pleasure
| 2016-03-09T05:59:22 | 2016-03-09T05:50:50 | 143 | 44 |
[WP] You are The Memory Broker. You copy other people's memories and sell them to people who want to remember things they never did. Your latest client is a ten year-old girl who slides you her piggy bank and begs you to help her grandmother remember her.
|
She smashes her piggy bank to bits and pieces on the table in front of me. The total is twenty-seven dollars and sixty-five cents.
"Girl, that's only enough for six seconds of memory, no audio, no commentary, only visual. 480p. You sure you want this?"
The grandmother sits on the couch with a blank look on her face, slowly forgetting the world, as she did with her granddaughter.
She's reluctant, but doesn't hesitate. "Yes please. Can you help me pick out the memory?"
"Sure, it's free of charge. Can you describe your memory?"
"The time I broke her favourite glass. Please," she seemed really determined.
"You sure? Alright..." that kind of memory wasn't a popular choice, but I do as she asks. I start copying the memory, detail by detail, and that's when it overwhelms me. Her fear of being punished, her bleeding finger, then the loving but stern gaze of her grandmother looking down at her, dressing the wound. I tear up a bit, but it's not professional to cry and so I get a hold of myself. It's sad that her grandmother wouldn't experience the multitude of emotions the same way I did.
As I start to transfer them to her grandmother it's as if she was watching a movie only she could see. The emotions splay across her face and at the end of those six mere seconds, tears fall from her face and she turns to look at her granddaughter. I think it worked. They embrace like two star-crossed lovers and tears fall everywhere.
"Lisa... Lisa I'm sorry, Lisa. Grandma's here now."
I excuse myself from the room and allow myself to be unprofessional, just this once.
|
Not another grandmother.
"Didn't your folks tell you about brain leaking?" I tried to ask kindly. What came out instead was course and unpleasant. Kids were sweet and all, but it was a long day. Getting old people to remember things was as boring as it was impossible. Getting *asked* to do so was even worse, especially from grandchildren.
It was always the same.
"I *know,*" she whined. Hands shook the piggy bank like a promise. "Please plug her up again."
Always.
Time to try this from another angle. Pleasantly this time, like barber Wally who gave those great massages after a haircut those many years before...
Not now Sam.
"It's part of being a grandma or a grandpa," I started. "You ever lived to be eighty before?"
She shook her head.
I cracked a smile and took a step to the side, shining on her the shelved wonders of my trade. "Me neither, but I hope to! And when I do, I'll have worked a lot of memories. Walked a lot. Eaten more food than the number of First Bites I have bottled up behind me! Look at them! Candy canes, steak burgers---"
The girl continued staring at me.
Not at the display.
Strange, that usually worked. The bottled nano-fiber-nets stored behind me loomed over most kids. They came shaking their change for their grandparents. I'd take one step to the side, sweep a hand as the magicians once did and conjure the light show of glass experiences. Behold! First tastes across the world! Sugars and sweets like you've never seen before! The only regret those kids would have then was not bringing more money.
Memories weren't cheap.
"I want my grandma!"
Quick, another angle.
"You should be spending time with your grandmother kiddo. Make some new memories with her! Here, how about a dash of Had-My-First-Soda-With-Grandma? Someone else's grandma, sure, but *those* are the kinds of things you should be experiencing with *yours* now! Hmm?"
My cheeks were aching holding this smile. Please let this work.
Porcelain shattered across the floor. Piggy bank pieces and dimes tore across the floor counter. *A broken promise.* A morbid thought, but cheery in a dark way, unlike the crying girl in front of me.
"*My* grandma, I want *my* grandma!" She was in hysterics. Contained, standing in front of my counter, but the helpless tantrum of kids couldn't be underestimated for long. The merchandise was too valuable to handle this... irregularity.
Well, it *was* irregular.
This kid didn't just want pleasant memories of a grandma who brought cookies and bought them toys. This wasn't a teenager flashing their wallets so grandma could make them more. She was special. Different.
Time to give it to her straight.
"Listen," I sighed. "Your parents want her memory leaking to stop too. Trust me, they do."
*How ye doin' today Sammy?*
"It's not fair when it happens."
*Another cut? Boy, ye grow yer hair faster than my husky.*
"But what you need to understand..."
*Here, take a seat kiddo.*
"... is that the memories can fade..."
*That's a lad, get yerself comfortable!*
"... but they'll always be your grandma..."
*Now lets get to it!*
"... and you'll always be her grandkid."
*Let ol' Wally get you sorted!*
"They'll always love..."
Didn't realize she stopped crying until my cheeks felt damp. Why was *I* crying? How did those memories even exist, I pulled them all out! Didn't I?
I always hated working with kids, trying to pull this on me. Making me remember. And this one actually made me do it, this damned, irregular, obnoxious---
"What was she like?"
I blinked away a tear. "Who?"
"Your grandma. Was she nice too?"
--- faithful kid.
Damn you Sam, venting like a child. Like she knows any better.
But she *might* know better with a little help.
"One sec kid." I turned around, wandering with resolution through the aisles of my trade. The reds, blues and many bright hues flashing at me, demanding to be opened. Bought. Released. But what I wanted was from the personal collection.
To be a Memory Broker, you needed a good memory. A tight one, sealed and secure like an old bank vault. You keep the security codes and personal flasks in a private locker in the back of the shop. Private ones.
*Yer lookin' good today boy!*
Special ones.
*Molly's gonna take yer prom invite for sure, ye lucky---*
I wiped my eyes as I pulled a bottle from the personal collection. Here we go. The white one.
Today was irregular.
I came back to find her waiting there, the porcelain and dimes blinking around her as the sun tore down on them.
She was special. Different.
I handed her the bottle.
"On the house."
A little help from an old friend.
There was someone else I wanted her to meet.
-----------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-03-09T05:59:22 | 2016-03-09T05:41:46 | 143 | 11 |
[WP] You are The Memory Broker. You copy other people's memories and sell them to people who want to remember things they never did. Your latest client is a ten year-old girl who slides you her piggy bank and begs you to help her grandmother remember her.
|
Jaimie dropped her pink piggy bank to the counter forcefully, causing a loud crack. She picked up a book and slammed into down over the damaged pig. The container broke open, coins and paper money flew everywhere.
"Is this enough?" the young girl asked the stunned clerk.
"I'm sorry, miss," the clerk answered. "It costs a *lot* more for even a basic memory copy." He looked down to her, with concern in his eyes. "How old are you anyway? Where are your parents?"
"I'm 10," answered Jaimie with a frown. "My parents wouldn't buy it for me, so I wanted to use my life's savings."
"What memory is so important you want to copy it?"
Jaimie looked up to the clerk with a tear in her eye. "I want to give my grandma a memory of me, since she doesn't remember."
"Oh," said the clerk, holding back a tear of his own. "Alzheimer's I take it?"
Jaimie nodded.
"I'm sorry, but while memory copying is a promising field of therapy for Alzheimer's, it's not something-" The clerk couldn't continue when he saw the young girl's reaction. He scanned the room to ensure nobody could hear, leaned forward and whispered. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm going to give you a freebie."
Julie's face lit up and her frown was replaced with the biggest smile possible.
The clerk placed a metal, cylindrical tube up to her forehead. "Think about your grandmother," he said.
Later that day, Jaimie went with her parents to visit her grandmother at the nursing home.
"Hi Grandma!" yelled Jaimie as they walked in the door.
Her grandmother looked at her visitors intently. "Hello, young lady," she said to Jaimie. "Are you here visiting your grandmother?"
Jaimie looked up to her parents with concern. "Mom, Dad, can I have a moment alone with Grandma?"
Jaimie's parents were surprised, but quickly left the room.
Pulling out the cylindrical device she received earlier, Jaimie sauntered over to her grandmother and placed it onto her forehead. After a quick buzzing sound, she dropped it back into her pocket.
"Jaimie?" her grandmother asked. "You came to visit!"
Jaimie jumped into her grandmother's arms. "You remember me?" she asked excitedly.
Her grandmother looked up to the ceiling and then back down. "Thanks for the hug, young lady." she said.
Jaimie dropped her eyes. "You're welcome," she replied.
"You're the same girl who came to visit me last week, right?"
Jaimie's eyes shot open. Her grandmother never remembered her previous visits.
"Will you come visit me again next week?"
---
Check out /r/MajorParadox for more stories 🙂
|
I remember that day, that kid, in retrospect I shouldn't have paid attention. It was a Saturday afternoon, I usually give myself weekends off but it was hard back then. So many regulations, rules to abide by; I just wanted to make some money, you know how it is. I had a bitch ex-wife, who took my kids from me in court. I had one fucking felony, minor fraud. She... It doesn't matter about her, anyway, yeah Saturday.
I walked into the memory centre, we used to call it the brain domain. Yeah I know it's a shit name. So I walk into the entrance, you know these wall street type buildings, as tall as Mt. Everest and as pretentious as the Queen of England snorting some caviare. You had the two main memory banks, Memcorp and Reeves & co. These where the big boys, same building different floors. Much like wall street you had your blue chip stock (Expensive memories) and pink slip stocks (Cheap memories). The big boys didn't bother with the cheaper memories, that's were the firm I worked for made small profits.
In a typical day you would see a wide range of people. Anything from heroin addicts wanting to remember never taking heroin to old partners with dementia wanting to remember their earlier lives. It wasn't as easy as that, you see we're a bank. We need to profit from this and these cheap memories are usually rubbish ones. Let me put it this way your local scum bag, heroin addict wants to forget. Well he/she can but the memory we sell them is going to be one that no one wants, like remembering murdering someone or raping a child. Now how the fuck do you sell this shit, well we kind of lie. The beauty of it is, that they have no money left to even get to the building to complain.
If you're a blue chip broker, there lives are easy. Selling great memories, my friend over at memcorp got $100000 in commission for selling one fucking memory to a depressed business owner. You see most big banks, contact these people who need money but have rewarding lives, buy their good memories and leave them a depressed vegetable. They sell those memories for 4000% profit to lonely, depressed rich guys. The other thing they did is have a complete memory modifier. Most people don't know about this but it's basically the cure for alzheimer's. They basically do some fancy science shit and it gives you back the memories lost. Anyway I digress.
That Saturday afternoon, making the odd $10 here and there from the junkies and old people, I go to the coffee room. These interns are laughing and speaking about this little girl who wanted to save grandma for $2. I joined these sweaty, caffeine filled idiots and asked what it was all about.
"That girl with the red t-shirt she wants to save granny, haha".
As I glanced through the blinds soaked in cigarette resin, I saw a small, innocent girl with a blood-red t-shirt and an object in her hand. She had a limp when she walked, bruises almost trying to be covered. It reminded me of my own daughter ,when I found out that fucking scum back beat the shit out of her for the first time. Well I gave it to him, the low life fucking scum, he only remembers the children he fucking raped the cu...
"Hi, my names Mr. Berry, how can I help you?", with a gentle tone.
"M-my grandma Lucy, she's not so well", this young pretty girl quietly whispered. I offered her a juice drink and we walked into my office. I remember thinking how did a girl aged...
"How old are you dear"
"I'm 10 years old Mr." She said with confidence.
...I remember thinking how did a girl aged 10 get here. Anyway we talked about her grandma. Turns out she had dementia, the girl was smart. She knew what it was and how it could be cured. She pulled out a leaflet from her small backpack and placed it on the table.
*Memcorp making you remember*
"Thi-this is the place, were you can save her Mr.?" she mumbled with belief. What the fuck do I say to a 10 year old. If it wasn't for her uncanny resemblance to my daughter I probably would have called security by now. I don't know I can't lie, I remember changing the subject.
"So I see you're not with your parents, where are they, outside". She looked around, I could see the tears forming in the tear ducts. With every tremble of her lip, a new tear was formed. She rolled up her sleeves, each centimetre a new scar was uncovered. If there wasn't a scar the space was filled by a bruise or a cut. Who the fuck would do this to a young girl.
"p-p-please can you help, my grandma protects me, she doesn't hurt me like dad, please Mr.., Plea..!"
"Shhh, please lower your voice. I'm sorry we can see what I can do". This poor girl was abused, I dragged up my files, got her details and see what we had on her.
*Daisy Reed, 10 yrs old, female Caucasian. 15 memories detected.*
*1-14 Memcorp shares. No.15 Mcbrint share*
I couldn't believe what I was seeing, all of this girls memories of her mother was erased. The good memories she had with her mother, the summers of joy and the lazy weekends all sold and erased by a Mr. Reed to Memcorp.
"What a fu... fudge cake.", I quickly realised I was with a 10 year old before exploding with rage. I pulled up the McBride pink slip, I could get every detail on that one, as this is the firm I work for. I always remember those first lines,
*"Sexual assault, rape and murder"*. That fucking horrible twat, he rapes his mother and daughter, then murders her mother in front of her. What a fucking cunt. Most of you are thinking well at least he paid for her to forget that, no he paid for fucking immunity. The low life bastard. The chances that the little girl that sits with me still gets raped is high.
What the hell do I do. I can't get her grandma's memories back, she had $2, that would take $1,000,000. Do I give her a good memory, I can afford $300. But she's still gonna get beaten. I did the only thing I thought I could do. She might not have got her grandma back, but at least now she thinks her father is her lover.
| 2016-03-09T09:55:04 | 2016-03-09T06:21:21 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Weight can be transferred from person to person if both parties accept. People pay money to transfer their unwanted pounds to someone who will deal with it in their stead. You run a gym/factory.
|
You want to know about the best business in the world?
Lemme tell ya about it.
I used to be a prison guard. Me, if you can imagine, working a job like that, people treating me like crap all day long...
But then BodyRight came out. You pop one pill to lose as much weight as you want, and that weight gets transferred to another person who took the counterpart pill. It was beautiful.
And the inventors, they were making money hand over fist. It was incredible! And it got me thinking about the possibilities. I didn't want to be a guard my whole life.
I managed to get a meeting with one of the private owners of the prison I worked at. I told him I had a way to make his prison a fortune, and all I'd need was a measly 2% ownership. I'd be a silent partner. Just wanted a slice of the pie and a nice life for me and my family.
Once we had a deal in place, I got to work. I contacted the BodyRight people and told them I could help them remove the need for donors for their customers. They just had to give me a tiny fraction of ownership in their company. Nothing big. They wouldn't even miss it with the amount of money I was going to help them make.
Another deal was fleshed out, and my perfect plan was in place.
Prisoners came to our facilities by the busload. Rather than spend money on feeding them, we'd give them donor pills. If a prisoner was looking a little thin, we'd give them another. All we had to provide at that point was water. Expenses were down. We even got to reduce the number of guards on hand.
I mean, guys that fat can't really riot too effectively. Most of them sat on their reinforced cots and waited.
Meanwhile, out in civilian America, people were losing weight everywhere! It didn't matter where it was going, because they didn't have to deal with it.
Our prison company expanded into every market. Our costs were lower than any other company by far. It was easy when you didn't have to feed your prisoners. It also helped that the more prisoners we had, the more donor pills we could accept, and the more money we got from BodyRight.
By the time I was ready to retire, we had prisons in nearly every country in the world.
It was the perfect system, and my family had more money than we knew what to do with.
Life was perfect.
Right up until I got arrested.
God, I am so hungry.
|
I had expected my walk home from work to be uneventful, that I would ride the subway from tenth to to thirty eight street and maybe see a movie at the theater that night. Payday had been today at work, and I had gained twelve pounds from it, the fat clinging to my figure and making me slightly more rotund than usual as I slipped between the subway doors. I had been planning to visit the bank the next day, to deposit my fat along with the rest of the account, but today I was tired. Today, I was going to take it easy and enjoy the higher wages from my new job, twelve pounds per two weeks up from ten.
At least, that's what I thought I was going to do.
But the mugger in the empty subway station had different plans.
"Don't more or I'll shoot," He growled as he stepped from the shadows and the train pulled away into the night, "Just hand over your pounds, and we'll both part ways, no injuries involved. Otherwise I'll shoot you and take them anyways."
I froze, eyes wide, instantly regretting not visiting the bank. *Twelve pounds*, I thought, *How am I going to pay rent this month if I lose twelve pounds*.
The mugger brandished his pistol, his gaunt cheeks and yellow eyes waiting, the bristles of hair on his chin unkept and uneven.
"Let's see it then, boy," He said, and stretch an arm towards my shoulder, "Nice and gentle. Go on, all of them."
And when his fingers brushed my skin, I let him have my paycheck, releasing my hold on all twelve pounds of fat with a sigh. With a laugh he ran off into the night, his cheeks somewhat more full, while mine were near bony.
I barely staggered to my doorstep, gasping from lack of energy as I fumbled with my key and entered. Stumbling down the hallway, I fumbled under my bed, searching for the box that I kept hidden in the corner. After a second I found it and exhaled with relief as I cracked the lid.
Grease coated the inside of the box, grease heavy with calories. And I absorbed that grease, pulling in just enough for a pound of fat, just enough to get me through the day and to the bank in the morning to withdraw. It was expensive stuff, grease- much easier to store fat at the bank, or on your figure, but it came in useful in times near starvation.
I called the police on my phone then, since there had been no signal in the subway station, and I checked my accounts online as I waited for them to arrive.
"Damn it,"I whispered, staring at my computer screen. From the Brexit decision, markets were down, and my 401k had lost nearly ten pounds overnight. Combined with the mugging, I was down 22.
I turned from the computer, and put on Netflix, scrolling though shows and documentaries, and passing that of The Eaters.
A tempting profession, I thought, but not without its caveats. For The Eaters created the fat that ran out economies, and were the only ones allowed around food. All day long they worked at the mint, consuming sugar and hormones, their bodies producing fat at a higher rate than natural standards would allow. And that fat was transferred over to the government, which then distributed it as they saw fit to simulate the economy. But as rich as Eaters were, and as much fat as they were allowed to keep, the life expectancy was only thirty five years.
Blue lights flashed outside, and I walked to my door to meet the cops, sighing. If only it was easier to earn fat, or keep the pounds on. I'd give a lot to live in a world like that.
By before my hand reached the knob, my television erupted in static, and I jerked around as a voice called out.
"You there!" My television shouted, and a figure came into focus, perhaps the richest man I had ever seen. At least four chins wobbled as he pointed a sausage like finger at me, his eyes squinting. "Yes, you! I'm talking to you!"
"What?" I said, my hand still on the knob, the hair on my back standing up, "Me? Who are you?"
"Look, I didn't telephone across dimensions just to chit chat." He spat, and wiped a hand across his brow, "And you wouldn't *believe* how expensive each minute is, so I'm going to cut through to the chase. Am I in the right place? I've been watching this dimension for quite some time, and it is an odd one. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you can transfer fat at the touch of a finger. What's more, you actually *value* it."
"Erm, correct." I said, as I heard the cops climbing up onto my doorstep, "Where exactly did you say you came from? And what are you doing in my house?"
The figure whistled, and a smile flashed across his face.
"No matter, no matter. But I have a business offer for you, um?"
"Gordon." I said.
"Gordon, I have an offer for you. And it's going to make us rich beyond your wildest dreams."
"Are you selling knives or is this some sort of pyramid scheme? If so, I'm not interested."
"Oh it's better than that. Way better. Gordon, all I want to do is give you some fat. Free of charge, even. All I need you to do -"
Then the police knocked at my door, and the figure stopped talking.
"I'll be back," he hissed, and with a *pop* the television shut off, and I opened the door to give my report, wondering if I had imagined the man. But I couldn't ignore his offer.
*Fat for free*, I thought as I described the mugger to the nodding policeman, *Like I'm going to fall for that scam*.
But then I finished my report with the police, they departed, and my television buzzed back to life. As the fat man explained his deal.
***
By Leo
| 2016-06-29T17:14:24 | 2016-06-29T16:19:01 | 1,298 | 319 |
[WP] 50 years from now and NASA finally launches a submarine into Titans ocean to find other life. However, the first sighting is another submarine.
|
Tlaloc completed EDL without incident, dropped its heat shield, deployed its chutes, and dropped cleanly into the liquid methane with only a tiny splash. Tlaloc's skin was of course designed to glide through the methane oceans with minimal drag and disturbance and it slipped into the methane with barely a ripple. An hour and 20 minutes later, raucous cheering erupted through NASA's mission control. It would take another 10 minutes to send the first images from the cameras as a result of the 889 million miles between earth and Saturn and the physical limits of the DSN.
***
It was a U-Boat. There was no question. What Tlaloc was looking at was a U-Boat. Not a rock that looked like a U-Boat, a good old fashioned, regular, German unterseeboot with the propellers and the swastika and the periscope and all the other U-Boat things. It was warm too. A tepid -156C, nearly boiling here, almost too close to boiling, but 23C above the rest of Titan's oceans. Tlaloc buzzed on, utterly uninterested in this thing, it wasn't the sort of rock it was looking for.
***
"What in the everloving fuck is it doing there?"
"We don't know Chuck, why the hell would we? We're checking with everyone else, old Nazi shit is kind of not NASA's territory."
"We're going to keep this quiet. We already spend enough time dealing with stupid flat earthers, we don't need this. I mean, this is... God they just wouldn't shut up."
A little pipsqueak, the new intern appeared around the corner and poked his head out like a nervous hamster. He clearly was unprepared to deal with the sort of people and information the was suddenly finding himself in the middle of.
"Um... Mr. Bolden? It's the... um, the CIA guy. He says he knows something about the sub. He's on line 2. I mean 3"
"I've got to take this, investigate it further, but I want to keep a steady stream of press going out."
***
I'll do more tomorrow if someone wants, but its bedtime for u/scotscott
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/508rg2/wp_50_years_from_now_and_nasa_finally_launches_a/d72szjg)
|
OPERATION: Titan Plunge 2066
Captain Lance Minkel of the NASA Titan Expeditionary Force double checked his equipment. At the floating deck he gave out his final orders to his crew.
"Ok, I want those wirings double checked. We'll be under water for 48 hours." he pointed to his men at the bulk engine station.
"And I want all scientists to double checked their equipment as well." He took one look at everybody. The crew were busy, Captain Minkel couldn't even look at them straight at their faces. He didn't felt disrespected though, he clearly understood the pre-deployment tension as he was also feeling it the same way.
"Also don't forget your snacks, we're going to have a long haul for this trip. 48 hours down under." He then looked at his watch. Suddenly his confidant bumped him.
"Sorry Captain." His confidant moved away without looking at Captain Minkel. Sargent Alexandros noticed the bump, for a second he thought Captain Minkel might scold his Confidant Lieutenant Archer.
"Carry on Lieutenant." Minkel didn't mind the bump, as he understood the situation of every crew on board the "Titan 2066". Sargent Alexandros looked away and grabbed some snacks from the Headquarter's Mess Hall.
"You still got five minutes." Minkel gave one last look at everyone and then went for his station.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- HQ Communication Open-
"This is Captain Minkel of the NASA Titan Expeditionary Force requesting to deploy."
"Permission Granted Captain." The HQ beeped the signal of the "Titan Plunge".
"This is it, turn on the video cameras Alex!"
"Yes captain." Sargent Alexandros triggered the submarine's NASA camera. The monitor screens suddenly show a countdown starting at Ten. The crew suddenly chanted the numbers,
9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...
"Titan Plunge 2066 is online" The crew shrieked at the activation of the mission. Captain Minkel got a grin on his face. He waited for a few seconds before speaking to Sargent Alexandros.
"Start the descent."
"Yes Captain." Sargent Alexandros plucks off his feet of the clutch and the "Titan Plunge" started its descent.
Captain Minkel looks at his crew. He could see smiles from their faces, he too felt the excitement of the mission but as the same time the pressure of being commander of the descent. He stroked a deep breath and he suddenly felt heavy.
He walked down from his observation deck and headed for the washroom.
"Lieutenant Archer, take charge" He rushed for the for the washroom door.
As soon as he entered, he saw one of the scientist breathing heavily near the mirror.
"It's seems like I'm not the only one taking the pressure Captain." The scientist gave out a grin. Captain Minkel laughed at his reddish face in the mirror.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Captain Minkel immediately went back to his observation station.
"How deep are we Sergeant."
"800 feet sir."
"Start the scanners."
"Yes Captain." Sargent Alexandros triggered the scanners.
Confidant Lieutenant Archer went down from the observation deck towards the scientists.
"It's your time to shine." He grinned at the researchers and scientists at their stations. The metal window blinds started opening. All of the crew had turned their eyes at the vast underground ocean of Titan. All were astonished even Captain Minkel himself.
"Wow" everyone spoke the same word.
"It's all yours." Lieutenant Archer referred to the scientists.
As the "Titan Plunge" went further below. The crew started to see some large whales; extremely similar to ones at planet Earth.
"Amazing, it's like Titan and Earth have the same species." one of the scientist spoke as he saw the gigantic whale passed over "Titan Plunge"
The rest of the crew where in awe as fishes suddenly appeared. The scientists looked closer and one of them said.
"The fishes here, they're extremely similar to earth's". The scientist placed his palm at the window of the Titan Plunge.
"Extremely similar, such a rare occurrence in two different planets." The scientist added.
Captain Minkel at the other hand just look at whales and fishes as they passed by. It gave him a sense of funny sense of humor that they are just exploring a large aquarium.
As the Titan Plunge kept moving. Sargent Alexandros spotted something from the radar.
"Captain you gotta see this."
Captain Minkel dropped fast from his observation deck towards Sargent Alexandros.
"What is it Sargent?"
"A large whale"
"Wow."
"We got a big one coming." Captain Minkel looked at the scientist.
"Let's move towards it Sargent."
"Yes sir." Sargent Alexandros felt the excitement, so as Lieutenant Archer, so as the Scientists, so as the crew. All of them felt anxious as the detected whale came closer.
"Come on boy, show yourself." Captain Minkel did not blink his eyes.
As seconds passed, everyone looked at the window, waiting for the biggest whale they'll be seeing so far.
However, it was not a whale.
"What the?" Captain Minkel was stunned.
"What the hell?" Sargent Alexandros felt the same way.
"That is not a whale." Lieutenant Archer was completely stoned to his feet.
The detected whale is actually another submarine. It looked modern in design and seemed to have weapons.
"What the f*ck is that?" Captain Minkel wondered.
As it moved closer, the other submarine's insignia became visible. It was a red banner with a white circle and swastika in the center.
"Ttttt.... that symbol. It's familiar from history class." Lieutenant Archer noticed.
"Yeah it is." Captain Minkel suddenly asked himself. "From what time period is that symbol again?"
"World War II" he remembered. "Nazi Germany." he spoked softly.
"Yes sir, I remember." Sargent Alexandros agreed.
"Then why the f*ck...." As soon as Captain Minkel opened his mouth, the Nazi submarine pointed their gun towards the Titan Plunge.
"Shit!" Captain Minkel just dull-fully stared at the Nazi Submarine.
- HQ Communication Lost -
| 2016-08-29T21:46:44 | 2016-08-29T21:28:28 | 278 | 41 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often.
|
"Jesus *FUCK*!" If I could gag, I would. A dead body, torn and ribboned like a frayed cloth doll dipped in scarlet lay discarded in a cheap motel room.
A woman steps out of a shower, her hair up in a towel and no other apparent form of modesty, save for the steam that rises from her skin. I, out of a shame that she didn't seeming have herself, didn't look, not that I had to- I knew who she was.
And by God, what an utter hatter she is. This one included, she's killed 32 people, each one getting more and more... exotic. Now, I have tried- I did- I tried to be the tall, scary, stoic Death that people tend to think of, but this is just horrific. Genuinely, as a man (or... whatever) who roams the fields of war and stalks the hospital wards, I have never seen such *undoing* done with such attention to detail.
"Do.. You like It? I worked Very Hard to Make this Special for Us." She said. She came around me, gently gliding her finger across my black robe, pushing in slightly to feel the contours of my bones.
"Wha- If I may be *so bold* as to ask, WHY?"
"Well, I just Wanted to See You again." She said, just barely above a whisper.
"This is too far. You know you're going to Hell for this?"
"I was going to hell anyways. But I don't have to go just yet. We can just stay here... for tonight." I try to reply but she cuts me off before I can. "Every time I see you, you only show up for a second and wander off with some poor soul!"
"Yeah, because you killed them! Because that's my job!"
She gives me a pout and pulls herself closer to me.
"Well, can't you take a break from your job for once?" She protests. "I thought Love was supposed to be able to conquer Death! For one night, can't it just be you and me?"
I look down at her for the first time tonight and shake my head.
"Why do you think I'm here to begin with?" As I point to her body, torn and ribboned on the bed.
|
Maria was only eleven when she first crossed paths with him.
It was a shooting. A drunk, fueled by rage and too much bad alcohol, had burst into a theater. What should have been a humorous showing of the year's latest animated comedy had quickly turned into a nightmare.
Maria sat with her arms around her knees, crying softly as she looked at the body of her older sister draped across the row of chairs in front of her. Paramedics and emergency services rushed about the room, tending to victims, but they had not yet made their way to Maria.
"You should be dead."
Maria looked up, searching for whoever had spoken. A tall man in dark jeans and a loose black jacket was leaning on the seat next to her. His face was pale and slightly wrinkled, despite his seemingly young appearance. There was a wicked looking scythe strapped to his back, it's curved blade glowing softly. He looked over to Maria. "That bullet should have gone straight through you. It should've pierced your lung, and you should have died just before the paramedics arrived. The fates won't be happy about this."
Maria was still too shocked to speak. She looked into the man's eyes. They were dark and empty, without even the slightest hint of color. They were sad eyes, as if something was weighing on him. Even at her young age, Maria could tell he was a troubled man.
He pulled the hood of his jacket over his shockingly white hair, sighing. "I suppose your sister jumped out in front of you, yes?" He looked at Maria for confirmation. She nodded, still wide-eyed and crying. The man shook his head. "She had such a bright future, too. Do me a favor, and don't waste this chance your sister has given you. Life is precious. I know that better than anyone." He directed his gaze to the emergency workers making their way over to the young girl.
"Well, I suppose there's nothing more I can do here." The man pulled the scythe from his back and dragged it through Maria's sister's body. It left no mark, but a green mist arose from her into the wake of the weapon. He turned to Maria one last time. "Don't waste this chance."
And with that, he was gone.
XXX
Maria stood over the body before her, her hands dripping with blood that wasn't hers.
The kill had been particularly messy, with blood getting everywhere. Bits of drying gore even hung from her long, auburn hair.
"Well?" She called out. "Where are you? I know you're here!"
"There's no need to shout."
Maria whirled around to face the familiar, black clad figure, spraying blood into the air as she did. She smiled devishly, her white teeth a shocking contrast to the display of crimson across her entire body.
The man clicked his tongue. "Your kills get more gruesome each time. One day there won't be enough body left for me to bother showing up." The man pulled the scythe from his back, stepping towards Maria. "Step aside, please," he asked.
Maria shook her head wildly. "If I do that, you'll just leave."
The man sighed. "You know I don't really need you to move. I'm just being polite." He twirled the scythe in his hands, disappearing from view. Maria turned back to her kill to find him already there, dragging his scythe through the victim's body. He paused to study the familiar viridian smoke. "This man had a daughter your age, you know. Imagine how she might feel when she finds out someone killed her father for the sake of a silly crush."
Maria laughed violently. "A silly crush? That's all you think this is? I've killed countless times just to see you again and again, and you call it a crush? I call it love!"
"I call it a waste!" The man barked, snapping for a moment. "Life is precious. I know that better than anyone."
Maria rolled her eyes."You drop that same line every time we talk. I don't care, I just want to see you-"
"And I dread seeing you!" The man shouted, finally losing his cool. "Every time we meet it means another live has been snuffed out too soon. I've considered leaving the souls of your victims to wander, if only to try and coerce you into stopping this madness."
"I won't stop," Maria said hungrily. "All I want is to see you."
"If you truly wanted to see me, why not take your own life? Why so cruelly snatch it from others?" The man asked. Maria didn't answer. "That's what I suspected. I won't entertain you any longer. Don't kill again. I won't show up."
"But you will. You always do!" Maria shouted.
But it was too late. He was already gone.
XXX
He was right. He didn't show up. No matter how many times Maria killed, the man in black never appeared again, and it drove her mad. It drove her mad to the point where she had finally turned her knife on herself.
The man stood before her lifeless body, his fingers clutched around his scythe. He was still debating whether or not he should leave her soul to wander.
"Maria..." He whispered, returning the scythe to his back, "I cannot forgive you for what you've done." He reached down, letting his fingers touch her still-clenched hand. "So I do not expect you to forgive me for leaving you to wander. I am truly sorry I revealed myself to you that day at the theater. It was a foolish decision."
The man sighed, and reached into his pocket, revealing a small photograph. It was of Maria and her sister.
"You left this behind on that day. Perhaps of I'd returned it earlier I could have saved you yet."
He watched her body with sad eyes as he faded away. "I told you, Maria. All life is precious. Even yours."
r/Uselesslibrary for more of my writing, if you'd like.
| 2017-09-28T15:20:16 | 2017-06-07T19:52:22 | 153 | 58 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life.
|
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine."
|
A knock roused me from my light nap. I had been napping in my living room waiting for him. It's been years since I had seen him. I call him Morte.... He's less a fan, and more just used to it at this point, but I figure it's less morbid with a fun little nickname. Still slightly groggy, I stretch up out of the chair that seemed just as reluctant to release me as I was it. I persisted, and finally rose.
"KNOCK"
It's louder this time, more persistent. Hoping to keep my hinges this time, I call out, "Be with you in a moment old friend!" I chuckle to myself a little, imagining how he won't be too fond of that. Finally, I get to the door and throw it open... To see the gaunt and sober face of Morte. He looked.... pissed is the word I would use.
"Having a nice time are we?" He asks, the same dour mood plaguing his features rolling off his tongue.... Or what would be there. See, Morte is a dude most don't like to pick a fight with, being a skeleton and all. As such, no tongue to speak of.
I smile warmly and take ahold of his black cloak. "come! Sit tell me about your journey's far and wide!"
My jovial attitude would I hope rub off on Morte, he's less than Jovial MOST of the time, and I try to keep him from running right into a depression. See, Morte here is what your average guy would call "Death", or "My Ultimate Fear" or whatever. Point is, most people aren't happy to see him. My chipper attitude is actually what got me my sweet deal. When Morte came for me, when my "Time" came, I greeted him as a friend and didn't see a reason to go, and as such... I think he was feeling especially spiteful that day, he granted me immortality and told me I would beg for death.
Like I said, he's a cheerful guy. Morte obligingly sits down in the chair I had just vacated, a beautiful piece of Thousand year old leather I had maintained since I made it. I pour him a cup of tea, and, feeling I needed to start things off, I said, "So? How have you been?"
"Insolent man, still you hold no reverence for me."
"I respect you, I just lack fear. Might have been the muffins last time."
Morte glares at me, he didn't like me calling to attention that he too had gotten used to these chats every hundred years or so.
"50 000 years, and you are every bit the cheerful Phoenician I met all those years ago."
"Well, now I have leather, which I think we both agree is a nice touch."
Morte rolls his eyes at this. I know what he's here for, and I am more than happy to indulge in idle conversation before he takes stock of how I have managed to enjoy my existence for so long. I personally enjoy these chats with him, and it's actually become part of my preparations to see him again and talk shop. I start again, seeing Morte is in one of his moods. "So, I discovered that the current civilization is following in the final footfalls of Rome. I have been trying to figure out the best way to diffuse the tension between them, but so far at least, my charities are keeping their rebuilding efforts up, which is nice."
"Yes, well government never seems to learn do they? Though it looks like I will be busy at this particular fall." Mort finally loses his tense posture. Finally! He touches his cup, which immediately ages to infinitum and becomes dust, the tea evaporating entirely. I look up at Morte and shake my head. "I shouldn't have made you tea. Sorry. It's been a while." Morte seems sheepish, and straightens up, a somber mood settling back over him again. Yaaaaaay...... I roll my own eyes for the first time that night. Morte rises, holds his hand out, and a wicked looking scythe manifests in his hands, before he swings it at me, I flinch even knowing what would happen......
And it bounces off harmlessly. I try to contain my laughter and mostly succeed. I let out a small snort. The ding as bounces is almost comical in nature, being immortal as I am, he can't reap me until I ask. Morte is... understandably miffed. In what I imagine would have been narrowed eyes.... again, if he had any, he glides to the hallway, and a dimensional rift opens up, summoning with it a wind that ruffles my hair. I smile back at Morte as he makes to leave. "BE SURE TO WRITE!". And then he was gone....
I set about cleaning up the dust and my still half full tea, softly humming to myself.
| 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T16:05:42 | 935 | 20 |
[WP] Your eccentric parents vanished a few months ago, and left you their weird old house. It's haunted, with lots of traps and hidden passages, and monsters live in the walls. It's been years, but you forgot how much you loved it. Your spouse? Not so much.
|
“The fuck is that?!”
“Hm? Oh, don’t worry about them, they’re creepy but they’re harmless.”
I set the box with our dishes on the kitchen counter, grinning as my wife sputters. “Harmless?! Are you seeing what I’m seeing?!”
I glance back at her, then over at the doorway where five squat, vaguely human shadows stand and watch us. “Five shadow people, right? Yeah, harmless. Hey guys, bet you weren’t expecting to ever see me again, were you?”
They dissipate almost immediately and I laugh. Don’t get me wrong, they’re creepy as hell. I get goosebumps and a rush of adrenaline every time I see them. I grew up chasing the damn things around the house, though, so it was like seeing an old friend.
“Shadow people...” My wife sits heavily in the chair at the kitchen table, staring at the door wide-eyed. I hold my arms out akimbo.
“Oh come on, I told you about all the adventures I had here as a kid!”
“I didn’t think you were serious! You said you were a kid, I thought it was all in your imagination!”
“Julia, sweetie,” I say, walking over and crouching in front of her. “I love you dearly. Every single story was the honest truth. I’ll introduce you to everyone later, ok? The knockers will have told everybody by the time we get everything moved in, and they’ll want to have a family reunion.”
As I say this, of course, a wet mat of something slaps right into my face. I reach up, pulling the hairball away and looking over at the counter. Tom looks vaguely like a cat, which was why I’d started calling them that at around six. And they like throwing hairballs when angry. I see Julia’s eyes widen and sigh.
“WHY YOU BACK!”
“Hi Tom.”
“UGLY BEANPOLE GONE LONG. FORGOT TOM AND FRIENDS.”
“I could never forget you guys. I’m sorry I didn’t visit.”
“NOT SORRY ENOUGH. WHO THAT?”
“This is my wife, Julia,” I say, reaching over and taking her hand in mine. Tom’s eyes narrow slightly, looking between us. “We came home because with mom and dad gone, someone needed to look after you guys.”
“Hi Tom,” Julia says, surprising both of us. My grin widens. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Tom is quiet for another long moment, then nods. “BEANPOLE MARRY GOOD MOONYFACE. MOONYFACE GIVE CREAM, TOM CLEAN KITCHEN. DEAL?”
Julia glances at me as I try to stifle a chuckle. “Okay Tom. Deal.”
“GOOD!”
And then thing that looks vaguely like a cat jumps back on top of the cupboards and dives into a mousehole that it absolutely shouldn’t be able to fit into. “What in the name of god-“
“That was Tom, and the closest I can guess is that Tom is a brownie. I think. They’ve never told me. And they’ve already given you a nicer nickname than mine, I think you’ve made a friend.”
“Dearest, can we talk outside please?”
Julia tugs me outside by the wrist, and I know that I shouldn’t be grinning as widely as I am. I just can’t wait until she meets Joe, the minotaur under the bathroom sink.
——————
edit;;
holy crap, thank you for the gold, stranger!
|
"Save me Matilda!" Evelyn screamed as she was carried deep into the abyss of Montsaye Manor.
Matilda stood there, encased in the lingering dark of an ever stretching hallway, almost entirely alone. But she knew better than to assume. Already the festering shadows had begun to tie themselves together in knotted apparitions of the damned. A single chandelier bore light far and away down the hall, hinting at life beyond the moth-beaten curtain that gave way to the ballroom.
*I'm coming.* Matilda promised she wouldn't let this damnation of a house take her Evelyn, not in the way it had taken Evelyn's parents. They had disappeared under the most peculiar of circumstances. Lord Master Jeffrey had found them to missing, or rather hadn't found them at all. Mr and Mrs Montsaye, vanished like so much dust in the winds, with only their luggage packed neatly by the door to tell at all of any distress. For why, it was asked, had they packed their bags and left them? The simple answer, they hadn't. They were still here. Missing. Presumed to be dead.
Matilda crept carefully along the velvet carpet of the hall, using her hands to steady herself against the gentle shrugging and tugging that came underfoot. She hadn't the faintest idea what lurked beneath her feet, and hadn't the mind to find out, either.
The hall was scarcely decorated. There were doorways, long ago bricked up to house the howling creatures that slept beyond, and a single painting of the late Montsaye residents. It was the sort of painting with wayward eyes that seemed to be looking, to be following you about the room. Only this painting looked away when it thought you'd been staring to long.
Matilda gave a subtle shiver, ducking the reaching limb of a something foul that nested on the hallway ceiling. The light. That was her purpose. The ballroom. And then on to find Evelyn, to rescue her love.
But the light went out. A soft breeze flitted through the hall and what warmth there had been suddenly vanished in the wake of an all encompassing cold. Then came footsteps, heavy on the carpet, carrying with them a bone curdling *crunch* risen from the splattering of that which lurked beneath the feet.
Matilda gazed longingly at where the ballroom had been, at where the curtain should have been waiting. But there was nothing to be seen. The world itself was buried beneath a pitch of black so dark the shadows had run away. And still the footsteps came closer.
With each heavy *thud* and sharp *crunching* of feet Matilda's heart drummed ever faster. She turned, to the feet, to the ballroom, to the feet again, and in a dizzying fit stumbled to her knees. Direction had lost all meaning, even the floor itself had seemed to disappear.
There came a sudden *click,* and then she was falling.
A trap door, it seemed, had opened up to swallow Matilda, dragging her down into the depths of its bowls. A haunting cry of despair echoed out from far above, the longing wail of a beast that dares not follow its prey.
Down below.
*Where am I?* Matilda's eyes struggled against the glow of the walls, an alien light of marked greenish-blue. She believed any light would have made for better surroundings than the abyss of the dark. She had been sorely mistaken. What she saw, down below, sent fear creeping into the very heart of her being.
Glass jars comprised a curved wall of the vast room, each preserving the most horrific of Gods perversions. Fetal spectres with fur covered faces in which hollowed eyes surveyed the world swam naked in glass prisons, tapping the glass with webbed paws and hoofed feet. Various *savings* from the Manors victims were displayed in order to bind them to the grounds; severed hands, lone fingers, burnt ears, flattened eyes, intestinal trails...
Upon the top most shelves of the curved wall of horrors there sat a collective of somber heads. Heads, that is, of the previous owners. Each one with a name plate, and coated with an age that disfigured the features.
A projector ran endlessly in the background of the room, playing on a timeless loop the harrowing murders of those victims whose *savings* called home to a jar. The flickering imagery of throats cut, stomachs splayed, eyes gouged, would have been enough to sicken the soul. When compared to the sounds those recordings made.
"Evelyn?" Matilda called out, her voice a hushed whisper in the concave room of nightmares.
There was a figure, crouched beneath the climbing shelves of glass. A figure that rocked, and shivered, and sputtered and shook.
Set before tables meant for ungodly operations where hospital trolleys, aligned with tools of the trade. Scalpels, and drills and too many saws. Matilda set her hands on fine-tooth hack saw that looked remarkably more suited to DIY than matters of anatomy.
Silently she scoured the room, darting from table to trolley to tip-toeing over the ghastly remains of rodents, and larger, that had happened unhappily into this room.
It was the light, the garish, greenish-blue, that gave the game away. As Matilda rose up over the cowering figure, saw blade in hand, ready to strike, she noticed her own shadow flung against the shelves in like to the madness. A wretched, bent looking frame, with a blunted tool lingering air bound, lusting for the bitter sweet taste of fresh blood.
The shelves shook.
A head came tumbling down.
Without the means to think straight Matilda tossed the saw blade and caught the glass jar in mid flight.
As the vile liquids sloshed and cleared, and the face became less of a blur, Matilda's own face paled and her body felt weak. There was a name plate, as if as much was needed to confirm her suspicions. It read simply; In Memory of Mrs Montsaye.
Matilda turned to shelve the head, and as she did she saw the crouching figure had risen, standing with its face to the wall. It swayed in a drunken stupor, muttering barely a perceptible word. Matilda put the head aside, and placed a hand upon the figure's shoulder, "Are you..."
The figure turned and Matilda nearly fainted.
"Guess who!" Evelyn cried with delight, "Did you miss me?"
Matilda took several deep breaths, settling her nerves, "I hate this god damn house."
"But you love me?" Evelyn smiled, "And mummy?" she gathered the head of Mrs Montsaye from the shelf.
"Of course I love you." yet Matilda looked with loathing at the head.
"And mummy?" Evelyn offered the jar up to Matilda's lips.
Matilda kissed the coarse, cold glass of the jar, "And mummy." she whispered, without any such feeling.
Inside of the jar Mrs Montsaye did shudder as Matilda backed away.
And then the house began to groan.
| 2019-03-05T15:29:37 | 2019-03-05T14:38:24 | 250 | 12 |
[WP] Your power is that Any insect that gets within 30 feet of you is vaporized. One day on your regular walk to work a man steps in your field and is turned to dust in the middle of the street. People start fleeing in a panic, except for a few standing about 30 ft away staring at you hatefully
|
The screams filled the streets as people fled, I've never seen a human being vaporize before, until now. All my life I've had the "ability" to create an invisible field that vaporized insects. If any bug came within 30 feet of me , "poof" they were erased from existence. I liked my "ability" I've never been stung or let alone touched by an insect. The summer was a breeze for me, no mosquito could come close. I inherited the "ability" from my mother's side of the family. It gets passed down every other generation. My grandmother had it and I assume my grandkids will too. Most women fear insects, I never had the opportunity to. My grandmother always warned me that there were bugs living among us. I never gave it much thought because I saw the bugs but when she was in her death bed she said," Listen to me Laura, you must be ready. There will come the day when you must face the "bug people" you must be careful and ready for they are a menace to our society." Them she died, I was confused about her warning for years. I came to the conclusion that she wasn't herself and it was the dementia talking. But today for the first time in 45 years I vaporized what looked like a human. He was with two others. The other two stepped back with caution and turned to each other and I heard them "chirping" like cicadas. That's when I realized what my grandmother meant.
|
Mist rose from the warm waters in gentle wisps. In the quiet dawn, each vaporous swirl caught and scattered the morning light over cattails and lilypads. The soprano cries of peepers pierced the still air. Bullfrogs added their bass tones to the symphony. Swallows added electric chatter as the small birds danced and darted through the skies—and Jesse downed his last beer and belched.
He walked towards the small rowboat tethered to the dock. Each rotten, weathered wooden plank creaked underfoot. One day, Jesse would have to replace it. One day, Jesse would have to do a lot of things, but not today.
Today was fishing, beers, and bratwurst.
Jesse set off into the lake. Each practiced stroke of the oars dipped into the water; the familiar creak, splash and plunk was music to his ears. And of course, there were no mosquitoes. There never were. That was Jesse’s weird, simple secret. Every bug around him dropped dead.
It was a strange thing. It took him years to figure it out; even longer for him to figure out what it meant. Every bug curled up, crumpled its legs and crinkled to dust like flying into a blast furnace. And this meant that, for the area around his boat, there were no other targets for the fish.
Jesse carefully unboxed his tackle. With a keen eye, he grabbed the steel-hooked mayfly lure. Breathing deeply, he took a breath of swampy air—the scent of frogs and algae—and smacked his lips in anticipation. He dropped anchor twenty feet from a partially submerged log. Three turtles bolted under the water. The frogs around him stopped in silence.
With a trained hand, he cast his fly out onto the surface of the water. It landed with a plop—the only bug around. The bluegill jumped; the hook set. Victory. Jesse grinned as he reeled in the fish. It was almost too easy. He caught another bluegill before rowing back to shore.
The morning sun rose higher, cutting through the fog. Jesse took in the last views of the picturesque lake, the quiet ambiance and the cathartic simplicity of nature. He walked back towards his cottage, noticing a grey van parked in his neighbor’s yard.
His neighbor—what a tool—always throwing parties and blaring loud music. They were the thorn in Jesse’s side, the rock in the sock, the mouse that scurried in the night. Jesse loathed them and hated everything they stood for.
Like clockwork, before Jesse could reach his back porch, they started the radio.
Brittney spears blared over crackled, worn-out outdoor speakers. Jesse shook his head, walked inside and slammed the door shut. The highest treble and lowest bass notes barely echoed through the thick walls.
Jesse eyed his cottage appreciatively. Nothing was out of place. The clothes were still unfolded in a big pile on the couch. The half-eaten bags of chips were as stale as expected, and the BassPro magazine on the coffee table cleverly hid the Playboy underneath.
Except, something was wrong.
Chills started down Jesse’s spine. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off, something different. Jesse walked into the kitchen. Everything was quiet. He looked outside. Another black, unmarked car was parked in the far corner of his lot. Two men stepped out of the car. They walked quickly towards Jesse's cottage. One of them carried a gun.
Jesse froze. He ran towards the front door and latched it close. Then he ran towards the phone. No dial tone. He looked around—with a sinking realization he realized what was wrong—the power was cut. No noise from the fan; no hum of the poorly maintained air condition.
Suddenly, his humid breaths felt so heavy. The denim roughed against his skin. The belt squeezed a bit too much, and the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end. The man at the door fumbled with the latch in silence. Jesse watched his front door click open.
He grabbed a knife from the block, pointing it with shaking hands towards the door, shouting, “who are you? What do you want!”
Jesse heard a click of a pistol behind him. Before he could react, a grating voice whispered, “No sudden movements. Do you know what this is?”
Jesse nodded slowly.
“Drop the knife. Lace your fingers behind your head and turn around,” the man said.
“I-I got a safe in the back, you can have it,” Jesse said.
“Do as I say, quickly now.”
Jesse did as instructed and turned around, his face inches from a silenced pistol. The man holding it must have been at least fifty years old. He looked harmless—with a calm, commanding demeanor—but the look in his eyes warned Jesse from trying anything foolish.
The front door opened. The two men approached in Jesse’s peripheral. Without a moment’s pause, they grabbed him and thrust a rag in his face. Sweet, sickly vapors singed his throat. The older man lowered his pistol as Jesse lost consciousness.
“My employer would like a word.”
***
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
| 2019-06-08T12:14:39 | 2019-06-08T10:48:50 | 34 | 18 |
[WP] You are a mighty dragon, the kind who kidnaps princesses. However, you only do it because princesses inherently have the ability to talk to animals and you're starved for intelligent conversation.
|
I'd rather not be kidnapped, all things considered. I mean, I hope this isn't too controversial a statement for a daughter of a King to make, but if I had my own way, everything else being equal, I'd choose *not* to be abducted.
However.
However! When one is faced with the sight of a enormous monster, the stuff of nightmares and legend, the great beast itself, with eyes like wagon wheels and claws longer than swords and sharper than razors, it simply *does not do* to be a bad guest.
So when the dragon thundered, "Tell me *everything.* I want to hear all about it."
I Just dove right in. "So you remember Lord Angelope, yes? Well--"
"I am a dragon. I remember the first day when Muumu pulled the sun out of the At'hamar. I certainly remember every word you've ever spoken in my presence, and you've never mentioned a Lord Angelope."
"No, it's true, I never told you about him," I said, hoping it didn't sound like I was arguing. I barely dare to argue with my father, I would certainly never argue with a dragon. "But you've met him!"
"Perhaps. Humans look mostly alike to me. I cannot always tell one from another, especially clad in metal as you so often are," said the dragon.
"Oh, you'll remember him. The second time you cast down the tower of Thel, and thence brought me away to dwell with you a time; none of the Knights, squires or bondsmen dared to stand against you, save one. Remember now?"
"I remember *NONE* standing against me! And if I remember it then so it was!" roared the dragon. The temperature began to rise, and I started to wish I had opened with a different story.
"Of course, he wasn't Lord Angelope then. Little Angie, is what we called him then. Remember now? Little Angie and his little wooden horse?"
The dragon stared at me for a long moment, then let out a bark of laughter that left my ears ringing. She bounded away, lest the force of her continued laughter rend me to pieces. She soared into the air, wheeling in the sky, spreading laughter of such thunder that it certainly must have brought the worms out of the ground, anticipating rain.
Finally, she lowered herself back into the cave where I waited patiently, which is quite difficult for me, if you must know. Normally I'm the one being waited upon.
"Yes. YES! I remember. The child, the little manchild! He stood against me. He charged me, on the back of the little toy horse, pledging to save you. And so, you were right and I was wrong. One *did* stand against me! It is so rare that I am wrong, that it becomes a great joy to me. This. THIS is why I keep borrowing you delightful princesses!"
I realized then that I truly had made a dreadful error. These kidnappings certainly wouldn't be stopping *now*. I wasn't too upset. I don't like being kidnapped, true. But I *love* gossip.
"There's more. Lord Angelope, he's a grown man now, and..."
|
I flew to Castle Marovia on a cold, wintry night. The storm -- a mix of rain and sleet -- ensured few humans would be out and about. They're never much of a danger, but can be a nuisance.
​
I swept over the ramparts, tilted a bit, and smashed through one of the towers, the one they traditionally kept political prisoners in. I've lived in and around Marovia for a couple hundred years, I've learned how my wee neighbors do things.
​
As the screams and sounds of crashing, smashing stone rose in the air to mingle with the dark and the wind and the sleet, I roared, and even roasted a few of the falling revolutionaries as they plummeted past.
​
Humans kick A LOT when they're on fire.
​
I wheeled away, shot up into the night sky, put a few clouds between me and the castle. I watched the panic down there for a bit, guards running around, old men yelling orders at younger men, no one really accomplishing much besides wearing out their voices. Eventually, what I hoped would happen, happened.
​
She appeared.
​
The Princess.
​
She walked along behind her father, the King, the oldest yelling man of the bunch. But of course while he was busy accomplishing nothing with the guards, she was talking to, checking on, the castle's animals. Two cats under a stairway, the big brown hounds in the courtyard. She even stopped for the chickens set free by some of the fallen masonry I'd set into motion that ended up turning a henhouse into splinters, sudden poultry, and an indignantly clucking little cluster of survivors.
​
As her kind could, she talked to them because she could, because she cared, and because they could talk back --to her.
​
So she got the cats calmed down, got the hounds to help some of the men pull a few survivors and a lot of corpses out of the wreckage of the tower I'd hit, and got the chickens settled down in a patch of hay sheltered from the storm by an overhanging roof.
​
I watched and listened to her do this, as I circled above the castle.
​
Yes. She would do very nicely.
​
I tucked my wings, dropped my head, and arrowed down at the castle. At the last possible second I flared my wings out, stretched out a forelimb, wrapped my talons around the Princess, tucked her in close while I blasted the courtyard, the cats, the hounds, the chickens, the guards, the dead revolutionaries, the barely alive revolutionaries, and the King with a great smoky coil of fire.
​
My wings whipped up, down, and we were away.
​
The flight back home took five, maybe ten minutes, during which the Princess mostly screamed. At first I thought it was the incoherent fearful stuff to be expected, you know, lots of aaaaaaa's and aaaaaaagghhh's and aghaghagh's and such, but then I realized it was just difficult to make out her words because of the storm and all the wind noise my wings were creating.
​
What she was ACTUALLY saying was variations on "You evil fucking fuck, if I were close to your size I'd rip your head off and shit all the way down your stupid scaly neck!"
​
Got back to my lair. I settled her down in one of the smaller caverns, the one mostly heaped up with platinum coins and the odd so-called "Holy Avenger" type magical sword. Wizard-priests of the long-past Harrekevian Age had magicked up those silly things like there wasn't another magic sword recipe or whatever in ALL THE LAND, I swear.
​
I settled myself on the biggest pile of coins and started to introduce myself. "Princess, I am-"
​
She stalked down the pile of coins I'd set HER on, across the sea of coins between us, and up the pile of coins I was on. "You're an ASS." Her tone was sharper than any of those stupid swords scattered about the place.
​
Okay, so, not a GREAT start. Still, I'm magnificent, and the terror of seven epochs, so I just started again. "Princess, I am Devictos, oldest and greatest wyrm in the world, and I have brought you here because- "
​
The Princess stood nose to nose with me ( I'd lowered my head quite a bit, hoping to be disarming, wasn't working, clearly). "Oh, yes, please, do tell me. You've killed my father, my best friends, and any number of innocent men and women. Please now do tell me whatever it is that's important to YOU." Her nose touched mine. "Worm."
​
I drew back a bit. "Um", I said, "I can't be certain, of course, but I think you're pronouncing that with an o, not a y, and -"
​
She stamped a foot and sent coins clattering. "You're DAMN RIGHT I pronounced it with an o, not a y, sparky."
​
I felt myself blink. "Ok, look, OBVIOUSLY these aren't IDEAL social circumstances, but you've got to help me out, here. We dragons are at least as intelligent as you humans, so we want -- hell, we CRAVE -- intelligent conversation. But we're animals, so we can only talk with other animals. And, well, people who can talk with animals. Which is pretty much limited, to, uh." I glanced away.
​
The Princess's eyebrows went up. "Uh huh. So what the fuck, smokestack?"
​
"Well", I said, pointing to a small pile of bones wrapped in the moldering rags that had once been a very nice dress. "The last one, um, sort of, wound down, so to speak. I really did try for the longest time to NOT bother anyone else, but it's been SO LONG since I've had a good chat, and so, um, here we are." And I coughed a little. There was some smoke.
​
"OH WE'RE GOING TO CHAT ALL RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKER."
| 2019-11-11T20:33:18 | 2019-11-11T18:00:52 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer.
|
"Come i- *oh come on*," I sighed as I saw who just walked into my office. Mr Williams. *Again*.
"Tobias!" he cheerfully greeted me. I did not share his most likely faux upbeat mood, knowing full well what he wanted.
"My answer's the same," I said. Despite this, he sat down in the chair across of me and made himself comfortable.
"Of course, of course, Tobias. But there's," he paused and shifted in the seat, "been a development." I only returned a blank stare.
"See, there's a new player in Brazil. A Russian operative - one gifted with extraordinary abilities, same as you. We've reason to-"
"No," I cut him off.
"Tobias, I'll be blunt," he said with a far more serious tone than ever before. "This is no small matter; we are talking about national security. As a doctor, you most certainly care for the well-being of others, do you not? With your portals, we'd be able to strike at the heart of America's enemies *instantly*, before they ever had a chance to harm anyone. We'd save people that-"
"I became a doctor to help people and my powers are perfectly suitable for that, thank you very much. I can operate on people without ever opening them up. *That* saves people. *That* is good! Not killing some people I never even heard of in some black-op just because you or the Agency told me to.
So," I said, standing up, "that is that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste my time again because I'll never work for you."
"Yes," Mr Williams said grimly, "you will."
I narrowed my eyes at the man, sizing him up.
"See, Tobias," he said and stood up as well, "you're valuable. Useful. We'd never hurt you to convince you." He took a step closer.
"Your family, on the other hand..." he said, staring me straight in the eye, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like the Sword of Damocles.
I took a deep breath. "I see," I said and nodded lightly to myself.
I spent the next days unsettled, often in deep thought and a state of reflection. I never wanted this. I just wanted to help people, not *kill* them. But... the CIA doesn't take no for an answer. Still, I do hope this will be that.
The only interruption to this routine was when another man in a cheap black suit claiming to be Mr Williams' partner came by and said Mr Williams never checked in, asked me if I'd seen him. I told him the truth - I told him that I'd not seen him since our last meeting.
After all, it's not healthy to look into the Sun.
|
\[Zero Income\]
"If you have a moment...," the teenager surprised Miles. He looked young enough to still be in high school and a mess of wild brown curls sat on his head. His hand was stretched out as a greeting and he continue once he had Miles' attention. "... I'd like to talk to you about your Super power."
Miles almost shook the hand out of courtesy; but, he pulled back when his power was mentioned. He shook his head. It wasn't the first time the government sent someone new to try and talk him into registering with a super team. However, this kid was the youngest so far.
"Busy. Working," Miles turned away and headed back to the store. It wasn't a lie. The teen only talked to Miles after he used his powers. Miles could make energy clones of himself. They were only as athletic as he was and easy to dispel. They weren't useful enough to risk his life every night. He used a clone to help carry groceries to a patron's car and then dissolved it.
"I won't take up too much of your time," the teen dashed forward to keep up with him. "Seconds, really; I'm willing to pay for your time."
"Huh?" Miles stopped walking, but another clone continued forward to the store. It was the first time the government offered payment just for listening to their pitch. The teen grinned now that the had Miles' attention.
"My name's Aurelio Luna," he extended his hand again. Miles eyed it for a moment, then focused on Aurelio's eyes again.
"It's already been seconds and I haven't heard a thing about payment," Miles said.
"Right right, sorry," Aurelio nodded and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a $100 bill and gave it to miles.
"This is for wasting time telling me your name," Miles said. "I'll tell you the same thing I told the other government recruiters, I'm not joining a Super team; I'm not going to risk my neck every day for other people." Miles nodded dismissively, then spun around to return to work.
His clone was walking out of the store pushing a cart for someone else and he changed direction to meet it. Aurelio caught up to him and waved another $100 bill. Miles almost didn't stop out of principle; but, Aurelio spoke up.
"I don't want you to join a super team. I'm not from the government," he said.
"Huh?" Miles stopped again.
"Then... what do you want with my powers?" he asked.
"It's not really worth explaining," Aurelio shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me anyway. I just need-"
"You're joking," Miles shook his head and chuckled.
"Superpowers are common enough now. Things I never would have thought of are real now; the world has changed. It's my power you're interested in, I think I have a right to know what you're going to do with it."
"Fine...," Aurelio sighed. Then, he held up a transparent, glassy card. It had two 'M's stacked on top of each other in gold letters in the center of the card. "...I [made a version](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/w0yvvt/wp_the_mileslong_alien_ship_impacted_the_ocean/) of your powers." As he spoke, a clone of Aurelio stepped out of his body. "But, it only works for Unique Souls because I [copied it from a Unique Soul](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/vxzf3j/wp_the_supervillain_prepared_everything_for_this/). But, you can give me a clean, Zero version that other Zeros can use."
Miles heard every word Aurelio said; but, he didn't know how to make sense of them in that order. But, he didn't need to admit he was lost; he got the gist of it. And, he thought he saw an opportunity.
"You wanna copy my powers...what's that worth to you?" he asked. The fact that he already had $200 of Aurelio's money probably meant that he could get more. And, Miles hoped a nice windfall meant he didn't have to work as hard as he was. Most people that saw him using his abilities for groceries had no idea how much effort he was putting in.
"Uhhh..," Aurelio reached into his pocket and dug around longer than before. After a moment he pulled his hand out with a solid stack of $100 bills. Miles had no idea how much was there; but, it was almost as thick as a single die. It had to be a lot. "... is this good enough? Tax free cash and it won't hurt you at all."
Miles swiped the bundle before he agreed to it; but, Aurelio didn't seem to mind. Miles thumbed through it carefully to make sure they were $100 all the way through.
"Thank you!" Miles grinned. "This is going to help me so much! I can quit at least two.. maybe three of my jobs...," he said. Aurelio tilted his head.
"You have three jobs?" he asked. Miles shook his head.
"I've got seven.. but, I don't need them all anymore," he said. "So, what do I need to do to earn this?" Miles asked. Aurelio smiled and stretched his hand forward again.
"Just shake my hand."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1658 in a row. (Story #212 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on June. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until August 19th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/v6bapz/aurelios_sun_1st_half/).
| 2022-07-31T14:37:56 | 2022-07-31T12:47:18 | 517 | 72 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer.
|
The man sat down at the table. He turned the lamp toward my face. I smirked, retracting my eyes into my flesh. At the same times, i elongated my fingers, each one reaching five inches in length as I turned each nail into a new eye.
The man flinched. He knew of my powers, he saw me using them a few times, but never this close. I decided to turn it up a notch, peeling off layers from my face to reveal a seemingly infinite numbers of teeth.
"Can you cut this shit off?"
He was trying to be calm, but i could feel the fear and revulsion from his voice.
"Not until you decide to drop this hero nonsense."
"Nonsense? You have the strongest and most versatile power ever recorded on the planet!"
"No I haven't"
He looked at me like I had declared myslef to be an alien.
"You can shapeshift into anything! I saw you turning into mist once!"
"It was a colony of Fairyflies."
"You can clone youself!"
"I did it once and I only got Dissociative Identity Disorder from the experience."
"You can fly at supersonic speed!"
"Only up to Mach 4"
"You can resurrect the dead!"
"The brain was still active, i just regrew the body after the decapitation"
"You can punch through a 20ft thick titanium plate!"
"I need some prep time to do that."
"Your prep time for that test was 1.7 seconds! That's not prep time!"
"Details. It just wouldn't be fulfilling."
"Oh sure. Be a superhero won't be fulfilling, but being a fucking test dummy for surgeons is SOOO fulfilling"
From my torso i manifested a blade, slicing at the agent. He touched his chin, now completely shaven, at looked at his beard as it fell on the table.
"Don't you dare talk shit about my student."
The man took a deep breath.
"You let inexperienced 20-somethings cut you up for hours on end. Sure, they get SOME experience, but you could do so much more out there. You could make a real difference"
I returned myself to my normal form.
"These 20-somethings will be the future of this nation. Doctors and surgeons that studied anatomy on the real deal, tested procedures in ways older generations couldn't even dream of. I AM making a difference."
I stood up, my hands sliding off the manacles with ease.
"Where are you going?"
I looked at the agent "Home. Got some homework to grade."
He looked at me, confused "... You know you're still charged with driving 170mph in a school zone, right?"
I waited in silence
"Buuuut, if you were to do a small job for the government..."
|
\[Zero Income\]
"If you have a moment...," the teenager surprised Miles. He looked young enough to still be in high school and a mess of wild brown curls sat on his head. His hand was stretched out as a greeting and he continue once he had Miles' attention. "... I'd like to talk to you about your Super power."
Miles almost shook the hand out of courtesy; but, he pulled back when his power was mentioned. He shook his head. It wasn't the first time the government sent someone new to try and talk him into registering with a super team. However, this kid was the youngest so far.
"Busy. Working," Miles turned away and headed back to the store. It wasn't a lie. The teen only talked to Miles after he used his powers. Miles could make energy clones of himself. They were only as athletic as he was and easy to dispel. They weren't useful enough to risk his life every night. He used a clone to help carry groceries to a patron's car and then dissolved it.
"I won't take up too much of your time," the teen dashed forward to keep up with him. "Seconds, really; I'm willing to pay for your time."
"Huh?" Miles stopped walking, but another clone continued forward to the store. It was the first time the government offered payment just for listening to their pitch. The teen grinned now that the had Miles' attention.
"My name's Aurelio Luna," he extended his hand again. Miles eyed it for a moment, then focused on Aurelio's eyes again.
"It's already been seconds and I haven't heard a thing about payment," Miles said.
"Right right, sorry," Aurelio nodded and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a $100 bill and gave it to miles.
"This is for wasting time telling me your name," Miles said. "I'll tell you the same thing I told the other government recruiters, I'm not joining a Super team; I'm not going to risk my neck every day for other people." Miles nodded dismissively, then spun around to return to work.
His clone was walking out of the store pushing a cart for someone else and he changed direction to meet it. Aurelio caught up to him and waved another $100 bill. Miles almost didn't stop out of principle; but, Aurelio spoke up.
"I don't want you to join a super team. I'm not from the government," he said.
"Huh?" Miles stopped again.
"Then... what do you want with my powers?" he asked.
"It's not really worth explaining," Aurelio shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me anyway. I just need-"
"You're joking," Miles shook his head and chuckled.
"Superpowers are common enough now. Things I never would have thought of are real now; the world has changed. It's my power you're interested in, I think I have a right to know what you're going to do with it."
"Fine...," Aurelio sighed. Then, he held up a transparent, glassy card. It had two 'M's stacked on top of each other in gold letters in the center of the card. "...I [made a version](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/w0yvvt/wp_the_mileslong_alien_ship_impacted_the_ocean/) of your powers." As he spoke, a clone of Aurelio stepped out of his body. "But, it only works for Unique Souls because I [copied it from a Unique Soul](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/vxzf3j/wp_the_supervillain_prepared_everything_for_this/). But, you can give me a clean, Zero version that other Zeros can use."
Miles heard every word Aurelio said; but, he didn't know how to make sense of them in that order. But, he didn't need to admit he was lost; he got the gist of it. And, he thought he saw an opportunity.
"You wanna copy my powers...what's that worth to you?" he asked. The fact that he already had $200 of Aurelio's money probably meant that he could get more. And, Miles hoped a nice windfall meant he didn't have to work as hard as he was. Most people that saw him using his abilities for groceries had no idea how much effort he was putting in.
"Uhhh..," Aurelio reached into his pocket and dug around longer than before. After a moment he pulled his hand out with a solid stack of $100 bills. Miles had no idea how much was there; but, it was almost as thick as a single die. It had to be a lot. "... is this good enough? Tax free cash and it won't hurt you at all."
Miles swiped the bundle before he agreed to it; but, Aurelio didn't seem to mind. Miles thumbed through it carefully to make sure they were $100 all the way through.
"Thank you!" Miles grinned. "This is going to help me so much! I can quit at least two.. maybe three of my jobs...," he said. Aurelio tilted his head.
"You have three jobs?" he asked. Miles shook his head.
"I've got seven.. but, I don't need them all anymore," he said. "So, what do I need to do to earn this?" Miles asked. Aurelio smiled and stretched his hand forward again.
"Just shake my hand."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1658 in a row. (Story #212 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on June. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until August 19th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/v6bapz/aurelios_sun_1st_half/).
| 2022-07-31T14:20:34 | 2022-07-31T12:47:18 | 145 | 72 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer.
|
Things seem to be going good, minimal bugs, nice graphics. Wait, what the hell? I keep telling them to knock it off with this cartoon bullcrap. I told them how many times, I want the games we make to be realistic.
*BZZZT*
Damn that intercom is annoying. “What’s up?”
“I have an Agent Price from the H.R.C. here for you Mr. Hastings.”
Damn has it been a year already? “Alright send him in.”
A few minutes later Agent Price walks in and I greet him as nice as I could.
“Alright get on with whatever sales pitch the Hero Recruitment Center sent you with. I’m on a deadline here to get a gameplay trailer out and I got guys from Sony breathing down my neck.”
“Well Ted…”
“Mr. Hastings to you.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hastings. The H.R.C. simply sent me here to ask why it is you keep refusing to work with us? You have one of the greatest powers to ever exist. You bring objects from the video game world into the real world. You could bring the most powerful weapons to life. The Energy sword from Halo, the BFG from Doom, any of the freaking RYNOs from Ratchet and Clank. Why do you not use it help others?”
“That crap right there is why. No one has any idea how dangerous the weapons I could bring could actually be. How they would even work in the real world. Say I do use the BFG on a mission against a dangerous villain, I’d probably kill him but could end up killing the countless civilians walking by. Do you know what happened the first time I discovered my power?”
“Yes we have it on file. You brought Cloud’s Buster sword to life.”
“Yeah what you probably don’t have is that I tried to use it. You know what happened? The thing was so freaking heavy I completely lost control of it and ended up leaving a massive slice in my dad’s car. After he chewed me I promised myself I’ll never bring another dangerous weapon out again.”
“Mr. Hastings, you could do a whole lot more good for the world than just some minor video game company.”
“Don’t insult my business. We’re done here. Now you can either get out or I’m going to bust out the Groovitron and post a video online of you leaving while doing the Running Man.”
|
“One creamy deluxe chocolate cake for the little princess,” I say, my water clone smiling at the little toddler sitting in her booster seat. The family looks up at me all smiles.
“Thank you so much!” says her father. “Look Alice, your cake is here!”
She starts to cry. See, that’s the problem with my ability. Though I may be able to replicate into some thirty or so water clones, I always appear unnatural in this state. Not that it doesn't make sense, but it can make me feel as uncomfortable as the justified, yet annoying, little toddler in front of me. My ability is very convenient for my job, at least according to my boss who hired me in a heartbeat after learning about power. Being a waitress feels like being on a stage in my experience, which hasn’t been very long. Then again, the whole world is a stage, if you truly think about it. I’ve been a waitress since I was 19 and have been for a short 2 years. And yet I’ve always known that I was never good when it comes to people. I always have to be on guard, keep up the act of a friendly waitress in this costly restaurant filled with filthy rich people. People, well, suck. It doesn’t matter who you are, you always want someone else to kiss up to you, no matter how subtle it may be. And my workplace is bustling with the biggest suckers of all. But, no matter. The pay is good, more than enough to make a living.
I sigh. A crying toddler isn’t good background noise for the rest of the audience. I could calm her down, but the little thing could start up again for some other reason. It annoys me. If only I could just get rid of it…
No. I shake my head. How could such unthinkable thoughts make their way into my brain? I catch my breath and only then do I realize that I’ve been panting. The family of the little girl watches me, baffled. The toddler just cries even louder. This isn’t good. I need to do something and do it quickly.
I have to save the show.
I call back all of my other clones, making sure they put down any trays or plates of food on safe, solid areas. I will only be converged for a moment. The family gasps as they watch me collect all of my watery bodily selves. I check once to make sure that my skin is firmly on my body then slowly approach the wailing toddler.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to sound soothing and achieving it spectacularly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I bite back a scoff. Such an ordinary thing to say. Such a naive thing to believe.
She calms down a bit. I form a large dolphin shaped drop with my hands above the toddler, so that it hangs just a few inches from her small tear streaked face. It spins slowly and on its second turn the little girl stops crying and starts to laugh. She reaches up to touch it, her hands a mere two inches from my liquified ones. After I’m certain the child has calmed down, I retrieve my hand and step back from the toddler, dispersing my clones once again. All eyes are on me now, not just the wealthy family. There is silence.
Then a huge applause follows. I smile and cause all of my water clones to curtsy, careful not to drop any one of the dishes some are holding.
One particularly familiar man in a posh black suit stands up while continuing clapping. Instantly I recognize him. The man who forcefully entered the stage of my life. In other words, it’s the exact same man that visits my house everyday after my work hours practically forcing me to become a hero. Every day for over two months now. And I’ve declined each time along with a long, apt explanation. Does he never learn?
“What a sight, what a sight, truly the traits of a hero,” he says, starting up the clapping again though shorter this time. An annoyance rises in me as I realize that he is attempting to copy my accent and the way that I talk.
“Now then, you obviously have the traits of a hero, a useful ability, beautiful qualities, why not become one?” he says with a bright smile.
The audience begins to murmur.
I force a smile and cause the water clone nearest to him to speak. “Oh please now, a weak little waitress like me?” I force a chuckle, “I wouldn’t be of any use. Besides, I'm quite happy here.”
“Of course you are, you're just here for the money,” he says in a dangerously quiet tone, smile still broad. The crowd goes silent. And then I realize that he could ruin my reputation. A ruined reputation in a career like this means being jobless.
Suddenly I feel enraged. The nerve. He really has the nerve to come into my restaurant, my little show, and ruin it with his-his- advertisements! Such audacity! Such shamelessness! Such selfishness!
“Oh!” I let out a little laugh and my audience joins in with me, “You remind me of my little brother.”
That little remark made my audience laugh, easing them back into enjoying their meals. The supposed government representative laughs along as he sits back down. After a while he eventually leaves. I take pride in the fact that my face hasn't shown my true feelings throughout the entire thing. The rest of the day goes on without another significant event but I can’t help but feel enraged at what the supposed government representative tried to play.
It’s on the walk home that I make my decision. I know he will be back tomorrow in the restaurant. This man is pure trouble. He is driving me insane. And he is beginning to attempt to ruin my life, the very one that I have built for myself! No, he has no room on my glorious stage. He must be subtly pushed off the edge of it, into the abyss below, as well as anyone who dares threaten it.
 
I’m a new writer so any constructive criticism is encouraged!!! Thanks so much for reading!!
| 2022-07-31T15:31:39 | 2022-07-31T15:29:05 | 72 | 51 |
[WP] "Of course I'm not scared of you just because you have claws. Sure, you could kill me with them at any moment... but, like, so can any random human with a knife."
|
As I washed the drying blood off of me, I felt the pain as the water and soap suds washed through the claw marks on my back. I winced for about five minutes straight, groaning for some of that.
The way it ran gave me time to think how lucky I was. I had been voluntold for the Long Door project as part of my exobiology degree - where we were destroyed, cloned and sent as data to explanation such as Osiris IV Delta.
It was there that I met Salicif (Sally for short, as her normal name is unpronounceable by people like me). She had actually slipped into hibernation, being from a planet filled with temperate climate, who unfortunately got caught in a disastrous snowstorm.
She had thought I was an angel sent to keep her warm, but the truth is, she made life feel warm by her presence. Her downy fur all over her body was so comforting that I often fell asleep on her. But by far the most interesting part of her was the claws - retractable, flexible and wickedly sharp, as I had just found out.
I stepped out of the shower, turning the know to end the shower. Steam flowed around the bathroom as the water dripped from me whilst I grabbed the towel. I wrapped it around my waist, folding it at the corners and then rolling the towel slightly to make sure it didn't fall down.
I opened the door to the bedroom, winced, and then walled towards the bed where Sally lay, the burgundy bathrobe already tied shut.
"Honey, can you get the antiseptic? You went deep again," I said to her, falling onto the bed in exaggerated motion. She grinned, a set of shark-like teeth in her mouth. As she moved off the bed and stood up, I couldn't help but stare, and get that goofy grin of someone in deep.
"Sure! Gimme a sec!" Her accented speech sounded a little like English spoken by a drunk Russian, but her meaning was clear. As she hunted in our travel bag for the ointment, I laid down on my stomach, waiting for Sally to get back.
It didn't take long at all, and as I felt the hands covered in the antiseptic cream, I winced. She spoke, a tender concern in her voice. "Are you sure about this? I was not expecting to go quite that deep with the claws. Are you not scared I might kill you, even by accident?"
I grunted. "Of course I'm not scared of you just because you have claws, no matter how painful the end experience was, it was worth it.
"Sure, you could kill me with them at any moment....but so can any idiot with a knife." I chuckled as a thought occurred to me. "Maybe next time, I'll use a pair of cuffs."
|
"So, Klonk, who you thinking we add to the team? We can't do it just the two of us." I play about with my magic as we walk to the nearest town, black wisps dancing at the tip of my claws. "I reckon we should look for Clara - she's smart, quick-witted and aggressive." Klonk nods. "She could be a useful asset, but we need someone else to balance us having two hot-heads in the group" he says, gesturing at me. I look at him with a grin. "Excuse me, but which one of us two barged into the other's home without a plan to take them out?" Klonk elbows me and we both laugh.
We get into town and begin looking around. The first artefact, the Goblet of Angels, should be here. We also came here to look for people to join. I instantly feel it; people cowering from me, staring daggers at me or trying to pretend I don't exist. I glance down a dark alleyway. "Huh?" Klonk looks at me. "What is it, Wretch?" "I... I thought I saw someone..." I shake my head. "Never mind, let's cont-" my thoughts are interrupted as I instantly freeze up - not out of fear, but because my body is under control of someone. I look; great, someone called the hero department of the police here.
Kip, someone with the ability to control muscles, and Tanya, with her faithful wolf companion, able to call on creatures to her aid. Kip forces me forward. "You have a lot of nerve, Wretch" he growls. Tanya comes up to me. "State your business." Nervous, I react on instinct - I use my magic to grab Kip's arms, preventing him from controlling me. I look at him; he's trying to break free. Klonk comes over. "Klonk! Help me out!" The wolf is barking aggressively. Things are about to get out of hand... I look around at the townspeople, terrified and confused. Reluctantly, I free Kip.
Klonk speaks up. "Listen, Wretch and I are on a mission. He's not after any trouble." Kip and Tanya look at each other confused. I sigh; they're gonna think that Klonk was brainwashed or something. "Klonk's right. Just... I'll go with you. I'll co-operate. I'm sorry." I hold out my hands as I say this. The two approach me cautiously, with the wolf growling at me. They put on magic-resistant handcuffs. Just then, we all hear a giggle. "You really doing this? You want you-know-who to come back?" We spot Clara, on a roof, holding her signature axe. She jumps down gracefully.
"What are you talking about, Clara?" Clara just giggles again as she cuts off my cuffs. She's far too jovial and giggly... she needs to calm down... "Do you think that was a smart move, Clara?" I send wisps surrounding her, binding and restraining her. I walk over. She's... still giggling? "Are... are you not afraid of me?" She just laughs at that. "Why would I be? Of course I'm not scared of you just because you have claws. Sure, you could kill me with them at any moment... but, like, so can any random human with a knife." I contemplate the situation, then I remember something.
"What did you mean by 'you-know-who'?" She whispers loud enough for Kip, Tanya, Klonk and I to hear: "The demon lord." Klonk eyes her suspiciously. "How'd ya know?" Clara giggles again. Man, does she ever stop? "I heard you two talking" she responds. "Let me go, I have something for you." I do so. Then I see it: in her hand. "The Goblet of Angels" I say in the gasp-whisper voice. I myself cannot touch it due to my nature. I turn around and both Kip and Tanya are standing, gobsmacked. Tanya goes to take it. "You were looking for this, Wretch?" I nod.
Kip steps forward. "That has to mean that the demon lord really *is* trying to return." I grin. "You know, Clara, I was hoping you were around... how you got the Goblet is beyond me, but that is *exactly* why Klonk and I need you - always good to have a wild card." Clara giggles - *again* \- and says "Of course! Tanny, you wanna come too?" Tanya looks at Kip, who nods. "Someone's gotta keep you under control. Alright, I'll come along. Pearl, I need you to watch Wretch for me." Pearl barks and runs to my side. I bend down. She's hesitant... but she allows me to pet her.
"Sweet girl" I say, and Tanya smiles. "I know. She got left behind by her pack. I found her and raised her myself. It was as I was doing that I had a gift, the ability to understand and interact with animals. She'll know if you're about to try something, so please don't upset her." I stand up and look at Tanya. "Of course" I say. Clara once again giggles. "You're supposed to be evil, right? You sure that you're Wretch?" I look at her. "I am Wretch" I respond. "Who I am hasn't changed. What has changed is my perception. I don't know if I'm evil or not anymore."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Cursed Warrior.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x3fd15/cursed_warrior/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!
| 2022-09-20T13:43:57 | 2022-09-20T08:13:50 | 76 | 18 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight.
|
Lek'tar strong Kholan warrior. Strongest of Lekh clan. Conquer twelve planets in nebula of birth with horns, teeth, and blade. Have one hundred seventy families with twenty species, three hundred children, all strong warriors. But Lek'tar strongest.
Lek'tar forty-fifth family on Tsina say Lek'tar must prove strongest in galaxy. Tsina family challenge Lek'tar to conquer blue planet with jellies. Tsina say jellies strong. Lek'tar will pop jellies with horn.
Jelly planet many thousand years rock throw away. Kholan strong because Kholan planet many special natural force call space stretch. Kholan blood feel space stretch and bend universe around Kholan.
Lek'tar make big rock and concentrate hard on bend universe. Lek'tar see stars pass around Lek'tar face, many colors flashing. Farthest any Kholan space stretch. Blue jelly planet get bigger. Rock burn in jelly planet-fluid. Lek'tar find jelly and ask for jelly leader. Jelly no reply. So Lek'tar bury big Lek'tar horn deep into Jelly flesh. Darkness fall on Lek'tar, carapace split. Lek'tar slain by enemy... how?
-------
Cecil wipes the guts from his neck. "Fucking mosquitoes."
|
"These apes had never sent anyone past their natural satellite, how could they be so advanced that they destroy our ships before they can even land?" A general shouted, standing out of his seat.
"They're barbaric, violence obsessed monsters, that's how. Intel showed that never once in their history had they had world wide peace. We assumed that they'd only ever be fighting, not cooking up new ways to kill each other!" Another general stated.
"Well now they're going to use them to kill us." The first general stated plainly.
The situation was a disaster. The recon ships were followed by what the creatures called jets. At first, it seemed that the pilots of the jets were just curious, but it wasn't long before the jets sent out miniature jets with small bombs inside them that crashed into the recon ships. They never reported back to the Mothership.
Soon, the overzealous General Wasini, not wanting to be seen as weak, ordered every available battleship to the planet, intending to take it over. Many of them were taken out of the alien skies by similar means, explosive jets big and small attacking the battleships, trains that required no tracks with mounted cannons shooting them down, and individual apes with sticks that shot small bombs blowing ships into shrapnel. The ships, with their meager cannons, and few bombs didn't stand a chance.
The crews of the few ships that did land fared no better. The firearms that the apes had were accurate and could fire many bullets without having to reload. The invaders' guns fired wildly, rarely hitting their mark past 25 feet, and needed to be reloaded with powder and a projectile after every shot. Soon the warriors were dead and their ships taken.
The remaining high ranking officials sat in the war room of the Mothership, looking to General Wasini for the next course of action.
A general stood up and said "Wasini, if we leave now, we can likely make it back to Jersomo before the apes even figure out how our ships work, we can warn others of their threat, we can be ready for when they inevitably retaliate."
Wasini replied "Soldier, I will not stand for cowardice! We will take this planet full of it's pissant brutes who can't even figure out how a wormhole works! Now I want this ship on the ground. The Mothership can take a fucking pounding, and she can dish one out, too. Arm the cannons, prepare the poison dart guns, and make sure every soldier's gun is loaded! We're making a last fucking stand!"
And so they did. The Mothership was the most resilient type of ship in existence, so it was able to survive the heavy bombing it received as it landed. However, it was soon apparent that landing was a mistake. The trackless trains were soon approaching, jets circled overhead, and soon the ship was surrounded. Cannons did nothing to the trackless trains, and the ape soldiers had reached the door. Soon there was a red line on the interior of the door. The line grew and grew, curving and going back down. Soon the line had turned into a circle, and the circle into a hole.
The apes broken the seal of, and boarded the Mothership. Running was no longer an option.
The apes went room to room on the Mothership, killing any invading soldiers with their advanced guns.
One lieutenant stood and suggested that they surrender. All other commanding officers agreed. All except Wasini. Wasini stood and called them traitors. The others responded by ignoring him.
It didn't matter what they decided on, as when the door to the war room opened, they apes threw a small bomb in the war room that exploded with a gas that made the commanding officers too tired to continue being awake.
General Wasini woke up in a chair sitting across from an ape wearing clothes of various shades of green. The ape smiled when it noticed that Wasini was awake and said "Hey there, sleeping beauty. I heard that you were the chief commanding officer. Kudos on being humanity's first contact."
Wasini looked at the ape with intense hatred. He said with clear anger in his voice "Who the fuck are you to be talking to me?!"
The ape responded with "I am Major Christina Morales, I will be your interrogator this evening." A slight grin appeared on her face.
Wasini, not willing to accept this disrespect, attempted to punch the ape, only to discover that he had been chained to the chair. "What is this?" he cried "You brutes attach me to a piece of furniture?"
Major Morales replied "Woah, you're calling us brutes? We didn't sent an entire brigade to their death in an obviously losing battle, and according to the others, you were the only one who supported the idea."
Wasini spat in her face
Morales slammed her hand on the table twice and said "Alright, we're not getting anything out of him. Take him back to his cell."
Wasini was carried back to his cell, seeing his fellow commanding officers enraged him. He promised them that he would personally kill them for their act of treason.
| 2014-10-17T11:04:27 | 2014-10-17T10:41:45 | 46 | 23 |
[WP] You wake up naked, its 1000 A.D., and your cellphone is ringing.
|
I'm not sure what hurt more; my back from sleeping on the stone floor, or the constant ringing of my god-damn phone. Whichever it was, my body was in agony.
When I eventually managed to shake my haze and come to, I figured out why everything hurt. I hadn't slept on the stone floor. I'd slept in the desert, for some reason I don't seem to remember, and I was naked, for another reason I couldn't remember, so I'd woken up completely sunburnt all over.
Come to think of it, I was definitely in a city, clothed, when I collapsed onto the sidewalk. Where the fuck am I?
And why the hell won't that god forsaken phone stop ringing?!
I scramble over the dirt, wincing as every inch of sunburnt skin moved, and grabbed my phone. The caller ID simply reads 'Unknown'. Could this get any worse?
"...hello?"
"Hey, Niko, cousin, let's go bowling!"
...
...*not fucking now, Roman. Not. Fucking. Now.*
|
*If you like pina coladas*
Mike fumbled around for his phone, still groggy from sleep, his eyes barely even open. He finally found it and press the answer button, halting the blast of classic 80's pop.
"What." said Mike as he slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"You need to listen to me, you are in grave danger."
"Okay, sure whatever, you're hilarious, now piss off i'm sleeping."
Mike hung up the phone, dropped it, and flopped back onto his bed with a thud.
"Ow!" said Mike as he slammed his head on a rather hard surface that was most definitely not his pillow.
That's when he opened his eye's and really looked around.
This was not his room.
He was in what looked like some kind of olden times studio apartment. He inspected what he was lying on, which appeared to be little more than a wooden bench with a bag of straw thrown on it.
"Where the hell am I?"
*If you like Pina coladas* The phone stared ringing again.
Mike scrambled on the floor for the phone and picked it up.
"What the hell is going on!" he screamed into the handset.
"You are in grave danger."
"Yeah, you said that. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm a friend. You have put somewhere you don't belong."
Mike heard something behind him and turned around to see a large man pointing a very sharp looking sword at his face.
"Yep, I can see that." said Mike into the phone.
"Meet me at the large oak tree on the hill." Said the mysterious voice just before the call hung up.
"Wait don't go!" said Mike.
"Silence!" boomed the large man.
Mike slammed his mouth shut, not a good idea to argue with a guy with a sword.
The man was exceptionally scruffy, unkempt hair and beard, rough leather pants and a shirt tunicy thing. The neatest thing about him was his sword, which was obviously very well looked after, the sharpness of which was painfully apparent to Mike as it was currently only a few inches from his eyes.
"Who are you? Why are you in my house? And what was that strange music?" he asked.
"Wow, you're mister twenty questions aren't you?" said Mike. The stern look on the other man's face making him immediately regret his level of sass.
"Short story, woke up here, don't know how i got and here and I really just want to go home."
The man continued to stare at him sternly, he then leaned in close to Mike and sniffed the air.
He then burst into laughter.
"Someone has had a bit too much ale last night!" He said dropping his sword and slapping him on the back. "And it seems someone has played a joke on you dressing you in that ridiculous clothing."
Mike looked down at his orange check shirt and green denim pants and decided they were a little ridiculous.
"Yes it seems someone has. So i'll just be one my way then." he said moving towards the door.
The mirth drained from the man's face and he blocked Mike's way.
"You still haven't told me about the music."
Mike gulped. "Music? I never heard any music."
"Are you sure. It was very strange music, i thought it was a witch or mischievous elves. That's why i got out my darling here, to deal with the threat."
Mike gulped again as he looked in to the steely expression of the other man. "I thought i may have heard something, but i came from just outside. Maybe it was elves who put me in this ridiculous clothing."
The man burst into laughter again.
"Maybe it was. For second there i thought you were a warlock and i had to stab you through the heart!" He said, letting out another guffaw.
Mike laughed nervously. "Nope not a warlock, just a poor hapless drunk."
"So it seems friend. Go to your home and change out of the embarrsing attire. Good day friend."
With that the man gave him one last slap on the back and went to tend to his fireplace.
Mike sighed with relief and made his way to the door.
*If you like Pina coladas*
Mike's eyes widened in terror.
*And getting caught in the rain.*
The man snatched up his sword and chased after Mike as he bolted out the door.
Loki stood on top of the rocky outcropping, phone in one hand, binoculars in the other. He put the phone in his pocket, picking up and taking sip from a refreshing chilled beverage with a little umbrella in it as he watched a blur of orange and green run through the town being chased by an increasingly growing mob.
He chuckled to himself as he settled into his deck chair to take in the show down below.
"This never gets old."
| 2014-12-20T05:45:51 | 2014-12-20T05:37:07 | 196 | 64 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now.
|
I was the odd case. Everyone has super powers, nobody knows why, even the people with super intelligence as a power can't figure it out. There really is no way to observe it. Which is why I am so different.
Everyone has a power, it sort of just come, like puberty or growth spurts. What can I say, we solved the energy problem in the world, explored the galaxies but we have no more information on our own anatomy than when Homo sapiens sapiens first evolved into Homo sapiens superior, more than five hundred years ago. But it never happened to me. My power never came, and it's not like I have a power that's super lame, like that one guy who can manipulate the smell around him on that reality TV show. No, I have no power at all.
I actually had a TV show too, everyone wants to see the kid without power, it's so barbaric, so backwards. The government agency came by to check out what's going on, they didn't conclude anything and they left. Entire generation of academics spent nearly hundred years trying to crack the sapien superiors source of power, and nothing came of it, so everyone just brush it off if some strange power thing occurred. And eventually the show was canceled, there is only so much one can film about a teenager that disappears and sneaks around a lot. At a certain point people started to feel real bad about me, and reality TV is for entertaining, not for people's pity.
And I was left here, with no power and nothing. My friends all left for college and trade school, or joined the explorers to see the universe.
It was until one day I was at a restaurant that I started realize exactly who I am. I was just dumped by my girlfriend--ex girlfriend --and it was really awkward for me. All I wanted was to be unnoticed in the corner, finish my meal and head home to heal my broken heart. I sat there for hours, and nobody noticed me, not the waiter, not customers, they just left me be. Heck, I lost the time and they closed the restaurant with me still in it. Well that's new. It took me a month to figure out, as it turns out, I do have a power, I can hide. And not just hide, whenever I feel like it, I can walk through places unseen by others. I'm not invisible, I tried that theory, the camera caught me. People just glance over me, as if nothing is out of place, and keep on doing whatever they were doing.
Nobody noticed my power because it is a fairly unnoticeable power. I was always that kid that sat in the corner, nobody ever took notice of me, so nobody figured it out. Life was pretty sweet after that. Went strolling in a bank vault, no biggie. Took a couple grand for my weekly allowance, nobody noticed. I am the shadow that walked the earth unseen. The best part? Everyone still thinks I have no power.
Their loss (no, quite seriously, I took some dude's Ferrari for a sunset ride yesterday, totaled the car, and just left it there).
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I couldn't believe it. I had so much hope for the big day at the Academy - all my friends were talking about it during the morning of Announcement Day. It was chaos, and everyone was laughing and talking over each other. I remember Peter, who was 6'0 at the age of 14, was bragging about how he'd end up with super strength. Or Anna, the overachiever, celebrating that she'd get super speed and would be the fastest in the entire Academy like she already had it.
I didn't really care, because I was too fixated about the opening of the new VR Arcade a few miles away from the Academy. I've been to the site a few times now, but each time I had to find it manually because my floater didn't have the coordinates for construction sites.
I imagined what the new 10,000sq ft VR arcade was going to look like. Maybe I'd be able to play the new Metal Gear Solid game - where Solid Snake and Raiden have been ressurected into one badass space cowboy. Then I'd be able to slice enemies with my right hand while sniping targets with the left while in zero gravity. I was beginning to get more and more excited until I felt a light shove on my back.
Sean, my best friend since Kinderacademy, excitedly yelled at me to get up. It turned out that I had spaced out, and everyone was out of their seats already lined up. I sheepishly complied and followed him to the line.
In the weeks leading up to A-day, all we did was get tested. We went through standarized testing, physical testing, and the overly instrusive Sense Test where they'd check if our hearing, vision or speech had any irregularities. My tests came back normal and I thought that it was such a waste of time. Oh well, passing the tests was just another way occupy myself until the arcade opens next month.
The line was full of antsy Academy students, where everyone lined up to receive the Academy Holopad, which had our results and also signaled our graduation. Sean couldn't stop talking about his results, but I wasn't responding so he turned to Peter, who was talking to Anna about his. The clock struck 12:00 and a solemn ding echoed through the halls. Everything went silent. The proctor verified our identities by scanning our retinas, fingerprints and brainwaves with her handheld detector. She repeated this step for each student then handed them their results - Peter got his, then Anna, Sean, and then I did.
We ran into the Great Hall, found our seats and checked our results, where our parents were waiting. And by "we" I actually meant everyone else rushed but me, because well, who cares.
I plopped down on my seat, ran my fingers down the smooth, displayless bar. I felt some grooves on my finger and then the holopad jumped to life. John Hargraves, it read it big block letters, and listed my measurements and test results. I scrolled to the bottom because I'd seen them so many times, until I reached the end. What I saw paralyzed me.
But that was 10 years ago, and my daydream was interrupted by a noise that almost ruptured my ear drums.
A shot exploded right over my head, and the ceiling was pouring towards me. Before I could react, I felt a light breeze up and the softness of nanofiber against my face. It was Anna, who was now leader of our Combat Squad. She saw the blast, and sped over to help. Her super speed turned her into a blonde colored blur, and she scooped me up in her arms. Before I could say anything, she dropped me by Sean, who was taking out enemies behind cover with his telepathical shock. "FOCUS!" Sean yelled at me, as more explosions rocked overhead.
Meanwhile, Peter was in his Academy Armor suit, taking on not one, but three Patriachs at once. He had no problems taking on the generals of the humanoid race that was trying to eradicate us.
Anna rushed towards a pile of rubble and as she was about to collide with a slab of concrete, she stopped. The force caused the rubble to fly across the room, which Peter caught in mid air and slammed it on the aliens, while Sean took out the smaller Parasitiraptors who were going for Peter.
The three Patriarchs were down and we'd reached a series of blast doors. I opened up my scratched holopad up - after this door was the human who had created the entire alien army by genetical splicing. I yelled in our intercom, "THAT'S IT" and pointed at the doors.
Peter stepped back, activated his energy shield on his right arm, and tackled the doors. And just like that, we were in.
Anna signaled she was going to sweep the room on our intercom, and in a moment she was gone. But all of a sudden, a thick, dark cloud appeared and caught Anna by the neck. It was him. The man who our Combat Squad had been trained to hunt since that day at the Academy. And he had Anna by the neck.
"STAND DOWN, OR I WILL CRUSH HER" he boomed. Peter readied his horn projectile and Sean prepared a mind nuke. But Anna signaled for us to stop, because we all knew that she would die too.
There was a moment of silence, and Anna was about to be taken away. I then started thinking about where we had messed up today. Our gear was functioning, our intel was accurate, and I remember going over everything twice during lunch.
And then it hit me. I sat up, crouched in a ready position, and I set my sights on the dark figure holding Anna. And then, I lost all control.
But I did it. I teleported my fart in the dark figure's airway. After having 4 processed, micro-rayed burritos that had been sitting there for weeks, my fart was toxic. The figure dropped Anna and threw up immediately. Sean mindnuked the figure flat onto the ground, where he lay in his own vomit, and Peter sent the projectile through his spine.
It was over, the mission was complete. The only team to ever complete a five star mission unhurt,.
On the way back to the Barracks in the team floater, my memory went back to right where it left off as I was daydreaming during the mission.
I was an apathetic 14 year old again, and as I reached the end of my results on the holopad, FART CONTROL was displayed in big block letters. And that was that. After all these years of feeling depressed about my power, I finally found a use for it in combat, and it was on our biggest mission yet.
I reclined back in my seat, and nobody said a word. Because I teleported a microfart into their faces, just to remind them of all the times they laughed at me. I was never going to be the butt of their jokes again.
| 2015-04-12T21:19:46 | 2015-04-12T21:14:34 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] Humans finally establish communication with another world and between the two planets have worked out barely faster than light travel. Each planet has sent off a group of people to the others home world after having misled each other about its living conditions & quality of environment.
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It had been 22 Earth years since Signal day. By cheer chance the Voyager and Wanderer probes had encountered each other. The Nivarra had long perfected Quantum entanglement communications and were able to quickly retrieve the details of the Golden Record through their instruments. Sending the Signal from Gliese to Earth by tight beam transmission had taken a long time.
Once it finally arrived Humanity was able to quickly build their own transceiver from the beamed instructions, much as the Nivarra had built a phonograph to play the Golden Record. When the wave form stabilized the two species began a cautious friendship. Of course neither side was stupid they hid the details of their worlds from the unknown people at the other end.
Yet an accord of peace was forged and an exchange of knowledge and science began. This finally led to something that never could have happened in isolation for either species. The development of the Tandem Quantum Catapult, The Nivarra know-how combined with Human ingenuity had borne fruit.
Two ships, one from each world entered deep space for safety and became time-space anchors for each other. This enabled a bridge to be formed and the two could "fling" an equivalent mass to a desired point. This allowed the travelers to bypass the speed of light and achieve infinity velocity. It was decided that the fairest test would be a trading of places.
Five Terran, three Martian, and two Lunar Humans were selected for the mission.
An equivalent mix of five Native and five Colonial Nivarra were sent from the other end. They boarded their ships and left their respective planet's gravity wells. Looking back at their homes they wished for the best. Hoping that they mght find the recipients at the other end able and willing to receive them.
Finally the conventional drives achieved safe minimum distance and initiated the bridge. For just a moment 20 beings of different origins shared a destiny and arrived at a new dawn. They were immediately greeted by a pleasant surprise. Both sides had faced war, turmoil, and strife. The two worlds had come out the other side and both ships found a paradise and not a charred husk waiting before them.
With relief both races finally met face to face and the future became theirs to share. It was at this meeting that the Great Gates were forged and the wide ocean of space came into reach. With all its wonders and horrors.
EDIT for Grammar
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"Beautiful women, pristine beaches AND free beer?!"
"That's what they said Jenkins," declared Captain Fisher of Earth vessel Gaea.
Captain Fisher was not sure what to believe however. On the one hand he wanted to believe the story he had been told as a lad when his grandfather was the captain of the ship. On the other hand, he had learned not to trust such fairy tales. But what could he do? He had to inspire the men and women whose families had sacrificed themselves to crew this damned ship.
"Wow! I cannot wait!" Jenkins exclaimed.
It had been 53 years since the ship the Gaea had left Earth and she was just now reaching the planetary system that was her final destination. Men and women had been born and died on the Gaea since she had departed from home. Now she was a home. Some people knew nothing of Earth except for what had been downloaded to their neural network. These weren't real memories, they couldn't capture the stench of New York City, the feel of an ocean breeze or the warmth of the Sun beating upon your skin. All they knew was this ship...
Of course, we didn't tell the Sporknorfians of the expanding Sun of our home world, the captain thought to himself... Or the superheated atmosphere that it caused. But it was "above my paygrade" to question that call.
Lies. All Lies.
"Attention Captain Fisher!" the intercom rang.
"This is Captain Fisher," he replied through his headset.
"We have arrived at the planet."
As the captain stepped up to the window of the mess hall, he saw a spherical mass of cloud and debris. Immediately he turned from the window and ordered that the heat shields be raised and the light shades be extended.
"No one is to look outside!" he barked at his crew.
Fisher made his way to the bridge of the ship and asked his intelligence officer to run a rescue mission and the communications officer to send out a transmission.
"Everyone else, clear the bridge!" the captain barked. The non-essential crew scrambled to leave the bridge and cram into the small elevator. A panicked look was spread upon the communications officer's face as he tried hailing the planet on all frequencies.
Immediately, the alien species of Sporknorfia made contact and a video communication began. The translators of course were all that was allowing the two species to communicate.
"I am the captain of Earth vessel Gaea. Do you need assistance?" the captain inquired.
"What on Sporknorfia for?" the amorphous blob on the screen responded.
The captain gazed out the window to the planet's red-hot surface. Even from his location thousands of miles up in orbit, he could see plumes of lava spewing from the planet through its translucent haze. There is no way that this could be habitable to humans, or any organism he knew of.
Fisher looked to the intelligence officer and shook his head. Immediately he began to take off his exo-suit and dismiss the team he had gathered.
"We were informed that there would be beautiful women, pristine beaches and free beer," the captain said. As he uttered these words he realized how silly it all seemed now. What a great way to get 2000 men and women to volunteer for a one-way journey to some foreign planet.
"Please," the blob invited,"come to the surface and we will deliver ten-fold what we promised."
Hesitant, Fisher and his first-mate climbed into a shuttle and departed for this "utopia." They both sat in perfect silence as they absorbed the sights around them. Dry-lightning struck the shuttle as they descended through a thick smog toward the molten surface below. They found a spot that was cool enough to land and set down the small vessel.
After putting on their suits, they stepped outside and were immediately swarmed by what appeared to be giant wads of silly putty.
"Hello there, humans!" the closest blob said.
"I am Captain Fisher of the Earth vessel - " the captain began.
"Yes! Yes! We know that," the blob interjected.
"Well then," the captain said rather resentfully, " I insist that you take me to the one I talked to earlier."
"But I am the one you talked to earlier," the blob said.
"Right, well, that makes things easier. What is your name?" the captain asked.
"Steve."
"Ok... Steve... what of the women, beaches and beer? My men (and women) would like to partake in all of these riches that we were promised."
"This way please," Steve ushered.
Steve led Fisher and the first-mate over to a tall, flat surface that extended well into the clouds. The surface was a shiny, metallic surface that reflected everything perfectly. The blob- Steve- went up to the wall and immediately turned bright red! Then an appendage of some sort began to protrude from the backside of Steve. Awe-struck, the captain stood and watched this spectacle.
The appendage reached around to the front of the blob and began to burrow into its mid-section. After a few seconds of awkward motion and some strange sounds, the blob returned to its natural bluish-grey color and turned to face the captain.
"What the fuck did I just watch?!" the captain asked.
"Step in front of the wall of women and you will see!" the blob said.
The captain stepped in front of the wall and saw just what he expected to see- himself. He turned and looked at the blob, then his first-mate.
"I don't get it."
"We are asexual!" Steve roared.
"So there are no women here?"
"Just us," said Steve.
"What about the beaches?"
"The lava is our ocean and this rock is the beach."
"So everything was a lie?!" the captain cried.
"Oh, no. We do have the beer."
"Wait, why do you have the beer?" the captain asked.
"We need to get pretty fucked up to live on this shit planet and fuck ourselves all the time!" Steve said. "We ugly as shit."
edit: I have class. I'll try to add more after
| 2015-04-22T10:26:52 | 2015-04-22T06:52:01 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
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James was not a great man.
Great men walked up to the world and bent it to its will. Great men looked at challenge and laughed.
James did his 9-5, came home, and sat down. He typically would stand back up a few times, to use the toilet or get a beer, but no more than a few.
His son had stopped asking him to play with him a long time ago, not that James really noticed. It just, stopped, nothing to it.
But then there was this mug.
It was a gift for Christmas one year, a typical 8 year old present, a #1 Dad mug.
But now it said he was #986,800,672.
He looked out the window to the backyard, seeing his son toss a ball in the air and catch it.
He looked back at the mug, then at his son.
...
James stood up. Perhaps he could play catch today.
And the mug, now facing down, ticked down to #986,800,671.
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Sunday. A Sunday that started just like any other Sunday. Robert Glover sat down to a hot breakfast lovingly prepared by his wife. After getting the kids to sit down and leading the family in prayer, Robert started his favorite Sunday activity. The Sunday paper, and coffee. This ritual was only broken if a quarrel broke out among the kids and only then if it got too loud.
After the local sports team lost, the unrest in the Middle East, and ol' Marmaduke had done it again, it was time for church. That's just what you did in Highland Park.
The kids were exceptionally quite today and as Robert reached for his mug he got that sixth sense feeling of being watch. And for the first Sunday he looked at his family. All eyes were on him as he took a drink. He smiled and gave a chuckle one gives when one doesn't know what else to do. All the eyes followed his hand as he returned the mug.
"Dad? Where's your #1 mug?" Asked Tim, the middle child.
"Why Timothy it's right here in my... hand..."
#"#538,218 (tied for 628th) Dad"
Another chuckle. "Well if that ain't the funniest thing. Which one of you rascals did this?"
"Umm..Honey I think it was the devil," Robert's wife spoke up, "all of us saw it as soon as you grabbed the mug the devil worked his magic and burned those evil numbers right under your hand."
"Well then, let us be off to church and let the Lord sort this out." Robert declared, still wary of Bobby his oldest.
Neither church nor prayer could have solved the flood of indignant dads rolling up in their Land Rovers. Mutterings of "I'm at least top 10...." "well maybe 100 it's a big world" "I heard Adams tied for 200th..." "We're men of god we should all be tied for #1..."
The preacher gave his sermon as dryly as ever. And after joined the chorus of dissent about who was the best dad.
__________________________________
"Dad do we have a dollar for some flowers? I'm sure she'd love some. "
"No Johnathon, not this month." Straightening both their ties, Johnathon Morrison Sr. opened the door and they walked out into the evening. "But maybe Mrs. Glover will let us clip a rose from her bush."
"Her rose bushes famous through out all of Dallas and east Texas?"
"The very same. She'll know what it's for."
And so after an exchange of pleasantries, no we must be on our ways, thank you ever so much for the roses. The Morrison men left with a rose each, they really did brighten up all of Dallas.
Under the willow, under the sycamore, over the brook, and huddled by the oaks did the Morrison men stop walking.
The roses lay crossed on the ground, their wrists crossed behind their back, and the sun crossed horizon. For orange to red to night, the sun crossed the horizon. And still they stood in silence nothing they could say hadn't been said before.
"I have to go to work now, walk home safe."
"I will dad, you walk home safe too."
______________________________
Robert mowed the lawn, worked overtime, played catch, helped with homework, made love, and slowly worked his way up the dad ladder at church. He put three kids through college, retired early to spend more time with his family. It never would be enough
______________________________
Johnathon Sr. worked two jobs. Some times three if they needed the money. He spent his money smart, and he spent his time even smarter. They were called the Morrison men for a reason, they picked up the slack in the world and carried themselves and each other. Even when Jr. went to college (on a full ride none the less) the Morrison men could be seen once a year. With roses that light up Dallas walking under the willow, under the sycamore, over the brook, and huddled by the oaks. With roses crossed on the ground Johnathon would sometimes have something new to say. "I graduated from college Mom." "I met the most beautiful girl." "I have a wonderful daughter, named Rose." "Rose has a brother now, Johnathon III."
Two roses not crossed. Johnathon straitened and walked back.
"ROSE MORRISON"
13th Nov. 1966 - 2nd Mar. 2000
"JOHNATHON MORRISON SR."
#"#1 Dad"
12th Mar. 1968 - 19 Oct. 2047
| 2017-06-11T09:29:45 | 2017-06-11T09:22:30 | 159 | 23 |
[WP] You are reincarnated 10,000 years into the future. You come across an ancient artifact on display in the Museum of History, where you work. Little is known about it, not even where it was uncovered. Upon touching it, you realize it was yours.
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“Finally, the Museum of History,” he said. “Not like there’s a couple thousand,” he added under his breath.
The wastefulness of the 23rd century had left behind lots of junk, as did the 27th and 28th. All had a strange obsession with emulating previous centuries, sort of like a come-back of the Romans (in some cases). In the end, there had been a lot of artifacts, and the ones that came through the sifter still ended up being numerous. Most were in storage, but at this point there were only a couple dozen that *didn’t* focus on those centuries.
So it had been a pain when, for a project he had been assigned (all of which were just assigned to keep the mind active and help people figure out what they wanted to do with their long lives), he had been sent to one of the furthest ones away from his home planet.
“Why couldn’t they have picked the 23rd century?” he said to no one. Gillus had a habit of speaking to himself, even if hardly anyone beside him even spoke. That’s what the brain implants were for, right?
“But, really, those centuries are b-o-r-i-n-g. Just twists on others.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but a museum on 21st century artifacts—of which there were precious few—was far more interesting than a civilization that tried extra hard to be another.
He wandered through the displays—some utensils, trading cards, and then on through the technology section. There wasn’t much there—just a few beat-up box looking things and a few well-preserved PCs. At least, that’s what the placard said. They hadn’t been able to extract info from any of them. Only written records had survived.
Gillus wandered down to the main exhibit. It was of an unknown technology. Well-preserved, but as always unreadable. He stared down at the little thing, all alone and with no one to obstruct his view to the slab. It was just that, mostly, a slab. It had a shiny face, but not much more was decipherable.
He stared at it for so long, so entranced, that he didn’t realize he had it out of the force field display (only for atmosphere, not for preventing stealing) and into his hands. It was surprisingly heavy, but fit right into his palm in a good way. He poised his fingers in an odd way, but it just felt right.
“What am I doing?” he said. Yet he was unable to put it down—a deep sense of foreboding told him that it would be stolen if he just left it.
As he stared deeper into the interface, he saw a light. Like it was alive! But when he blinked, it was gone. However, even if the image was gone, the rest of the idea wasn’t. His brain was flooded with the images—using the device to take pictures of food, to talk into, to tap out sentences in, to endlessly scroll through a feed.
He pocketed it, knowing full well he would be caught before long. “They’ll have to pry my phone out of my cold, dead hands,” Gillus hissed. “I lost it for ten thousand years, and it’s *mine*!”
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I quickly learned after getting my first adult job at the Royal Museum of Ages that asking about the strange artifacts from thousands of years ago was more or less pointless.
“Jay, be a good lad and go and sweep the chamber containing the objects from the twenty first century.” The blue-skinned curator I worked for guided me to what was probably the least visited and dustiest part of the castle the museum was in.
“Sir, if I may interject, why? No patron ever comes back here.” I told him, standing at the threshold of the small room where dusty knick knacks from a time long ago lay out in the open for peasants and aristocrats alike to gawk at for several seconds before immediately leaving and going off to see King Hadron’s extensive armor collection.
“I know no one comes here, but this little chamber must always be clean, regardless of whether or not anyone ever takes time to even look at the useless rubbish inside.” He replied. “Just do as you’re told, boy. If you do a good enough job, maybe I’ll raise your hourly pay by five geld.”
“Alright, sir...” I acquiesced. After he left me to my own devices, I set to work, carefully sweeping the wooden floors and dusting off the shelves that held all the strange objects that the kingdom’s adventurers’ guild had found in the wilderness during their travels. I didn’t really pay much mind to these objects most days, but for some reason, one particular artifact seemed to call to me, as if I once owned it before...
After checking to make sure I wouldn’t be caught slacking on my work, I walked over to one particular object that sat on a desk next to a candle. It was black, metal, and it appeared to be bent into a distorted shape that sort of looked like the letter L. It had a small hole on the long end, and a rectangular one on the short end. A little metal bit inside a ring was located at the point where it was bent, and another metal box filled with strange copper bits lay next to the bent thing. I inspected the thing closely, not daring to touch it for fear of being caught, but something about this artifact, whatever it was, made me want to touch it. Before I knew it, I was reaching for the thing, as if my body had a mind of its own.
As soon as my hand touched the artifact and gripped it by the short end, I knew exactly what this was, and exactly how to use this. It was as if the way this thing works was buried deep within my memory, and I was simply recalling it like I would recall how to cook eggs.
*’This is a handgun.’* I thought to myself, smiling as I loaded the magazine full of bullets into it. *’My handgun, from when I was still a Marine...’*
A bunch of memories that I didn’t even know I repressed came flooding back into me. The strange portal that opened in DC. The war against the humanoid demonic aliens that suddenly invaded Earth. The nuclear hell-storm that the US government unleashed on what remained of the country. The sudden and brutal takeover of all the continents of Earth by the aliens. The sudden suppression of any and all military resistance by freezing the bodies of every single soldier, sailor, airman, and Marine, and erasing their memories of the past...
I suddenly remembered all these things as I stared at my gun, and I realized that the world I knew wasn’t as it really seemed. The curator had always told me that human technology was very advanced before the ancestors of the Royal Empire settled on this planet. The king and his prestigious family line were responsible for destroying what my ancestors built for millennia.
“Oh my god...” I knelt on the floor, tears streaming from my face as I realized the world I once knew was gone. Was there still time to restore what humanity built before? Could I, a human, even be able to stand up against the alien race that had invaded this planet? They had practically infiltrated every part of society to the point where humans like me were having blue offspring. I knew from whispers on the streets that there was a secret society of humans who got their memories back working to bring down King Hadron and his court, and I knew that in order for me to join them, I had to show them that I would no longer serve our blue skinned masters.
“Jay, what’s taking you so long?! This room should have been done by now, but I can still see the dust! I should fire you for this, if you can’t even sweep one tiny little room-“ The curator’s tirade was cut short by me as I popped a bullet in his eye.
“God damn alien bastard...” I smirked, putting my gun away. “Can’t believe it took me this long to realize that this shit ain’t right...” I grabbed a nearby knife from the same desk where the gun was and cut out my former boss’ heart. With his purple heart in my hand and a twinkle in my eye, I quickly left the Royal Museum and made my way to the slums of the royal capital, all the way to a nondescript doorway.
“What the hell do you want, kid? You don’t look like you belong here.” A gruff voice responded to me after I banged on the door twice.
“I’m here to join y’all. I have my passport with me.” I flatly replied. The man behind the door let me in. I was greeted by four more people like me sitting around a table. It seemed like they were expecting me.
“A heart, huh? Shit, kid, what made you want to grab that instead of a finger or something?” The gruff man asked me, surprised.
“I remembered everything as soon as I picked up my gun, Sarge.” I automatically replied. “Where’s my rifle?”
“It’s where it’s always been, private. Gilmore, give your boyfriend here his gun back.”
“Here you go, sweetie. I’ve kept this thing all clean and ready, just for you.” One of the girls who was sitting walked up to me, kissed me on the cheek, and handed me my M16.
“Thanks, Monica. I can’t believe I let those blue bastards take my memories from me and keep ‘em away from me for this long....” I kissed her back.
“Looks like the whole squad’s back together again.” My sergeant sat down next to me, looking at all the people around me with a grin on his face. “Brady, Jay, Monica, Maria, and Mason; are you five ready to start taking back what humanity lost with me?”
“Yes, sir!!” All five of us replied in unison.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now, let’s kick some alien ass!!” All six of us got up, walked out into the street, and began gunning down everything that had blue skin. We were gonna take back our world, no matter how messy it would be.
| 2019-09-23T19:52:09 | 2019-09-23T18:26:04 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] “Dead men tell no tales as they say, right? Well your honor, that’s just not true. As a necromancer, I literally summon my first witness to the stand. The victim!”
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“Dead men tell no tales as they say, right? Well your honor, that’s just not true. As a necromancer, I literally summon my first witness to the stand. The victim!”
The courtroom gasped.
Obviously those in the peanut gallery watched too much CSI: Narnia and weren’t aware of courtroom procedure. While this was certainly not something I thought would happen today, it didn’t blindside me like I’m sure the prosecution wanted; I wasn’t an idiot.
Turning calmly toward the judge, I spoke in a loud and clear voice, “Your Honor, I object. All witnesses need to be deposed by both sides, and as a surprise witness, we have not had time to properly prepare our counter arguments. I request a stay until we can get everything we need for my client’s defense.”
To say the look on the prosecution’s face was miraculous would be an understatement. He was only a year out of Wizard Law School and he had the gall to think I wouldn’t know how to deal with necromancers? What an amateur.
“Motion granted,” the judge quickly agreed. “We shall reconvene in a week’s time, and counselor?” The prosecution looked up from the papers with which he was trying to conceal his quickly reddening face. His purple pointed hat was sticking out of the top, looking like a bad joke. “Do make sure to follow procedure this time around. Otherwise you’ll be held in contempt.”
BANG BANG
“Dismissed!”
Edit: Spelling error
|
"Objection!" shouted Barry, the prosecutor.
The judge raised an eyebrow. "On what grounds?"
Barry paused, at a loss for words. "Umm... everything? This... this is just absurd!"
I chuckled at his genuine agitation. Barry had never faced something like this before. It would've amused me more if he wasn't currently trying to imprison me. This whole trial had been stacked against me from the start. Since the murder occurred in the Swamp of Lost Souls, near my shack, everyone assumed I was the one responsible for it because, obviously, who else but the hermit necromancer would do such a heinous thing? No lawyer wanted to take my case so I was forced to improvise my own defense.
The entire courtroom gasped at my reveal. Some people even fainted upon witnessing the reanimated corpse. Normally, I wouldn't bring back a soul for my own gain, but I wasn't about to go to jail for something I didn't do.
"You'll have to provide a better argument," said the judge. "It's unorthodox, but the lack of precedent means necromancy is technically allowed."
Barry rubbed his temples, frustrated.
I started to relax. My biggest concern was that this stunt would only alienate me more from them, but it appeared the judge was truly interested in getting to the bottom of this case. Adam, the victim, was a beloved figure in the community. Bringing out his rotting corpse had to disturb those who weren't used to my craft.
"Okay," said Barry, "hear me out. How do we know this is actually Adam?"
"I'm right here, dude" said Adam, with flies coming out of his mouth. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Shut up!" said Barry. "It's obviously your corpse, but how can we be sure he's not just controlling the body like a puppet? Couldn't he make Adam say anything he wanted?"
The judge nodded sagely, stroking his beard. "An interesting counterpoint."
"That's not fair!" I said. "You're basically asking me to prove his own sentience, and that's philosophically impossible! Especially if you disregard his own testimony!"
"And?" said Barry. "The burden of proof is on you here. If you can't definitively prove he's a reliable witness, then he holds no value to the court."
"Rude," said Adam.
"You're not real!" Barry frowned at me. "Stop manipulating our dead friend!"
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are! And even if that *is* him, you're using his death to your advantage!"
"And I'm supposed to just give up?"
"That would be great, actually."
I looked at the judge, expectantly. "You don't have to take everything at face value. Can't you just... hear him out?"
The judge pursed his lips, unsure, then said:
"I'm afraid not. We can't really be sure one way or the other, can we? And letting this version of Adam speak would definitely influence us, even if we don't give it much weight."
I sighed. It wasn't that they wished justice for Adam. This community just wanted me and my craft to be eradicated. The murder was just a convenient excuse to enforce their puritan ways. Or, to put it another way, they would rather believe I was an evil monster than confront the fact that they had a murderer among them.
Adam, despite his disfigured face, pouted in disappointment. The reason he was in the swamp in the first place was because it was the only place he could meet up with his girlfriend, a woman from an affluent family that had been forbidden from marrying him. When her father discovered their secret, he locked her up and sent his thugs to take care of Adam in their meeting spot. They didn't count on me caring at all about the murder. When I came to the city to report it, I was instantly charged with the crime instead. It appeared the lady's father was too influential.
Barry himself seemed desperate to win the case at all costs, glancing back at the father every so often with great anxiety. I then understood he was only fighting me out of fear of what would happen should he fail. I couldn't blame him for trying to survive, just like me.
That being said, when it was obvious I would never be heard in a fair way, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. This trial was a mere formality. Something I only did to not look like a complete villain to these people. It was foolish to let them think their laws applied to me. With a snap of my fingers, I shot a beam of energy at Adam that made him a hundred times stronger, then said:
"Fuck it; do whatever you please."
Adam quickly sprinted at the lady's father, cackling with glee as he started punching him around the room.
The courtroom immediately erupted into chaos. The guards couldn't stop Adam from getting his revenge. I slipped out of the room while they were distracted, leaving the city as quickly as possible. That was the last time I would ever play by their rules.
------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
| 2021-10-04T08:08:45 | 2021-10-04T07:28:04 | 1,090 | 357 |
[WP] You are a "coward". It's a respected military role - when your team's mission fails, you must survive and escape at all cost to inform the Headquarters of what happened.
|
"I was not among them."
That's the phrase they condition you to say. They tell you after the training it's just a way to stay neutral about your previous unit when you report, it keeps you distant. Distant from the unit and distant from the fact you can't help. The coward is a key role. In war, you cannot afford to have units blink out of existence, with no idea of what went wrong. Whatever hell you had seen visited on your unit, it was anodyne to the coward, because you were not among them as you observed.
I saw men with their bodies on fire, pulling the skin off their faces in a frenzied attempt to put out the choking blaze. I was not among them.
I saw men get sawed off at the knees by mines, barely able to believe their thighs were pumping out their lifeblood by the pint. I was not among them.
I saw men inhale gas that split their lungs like burnt sausages, cupping their hands over their mouths, as if stopping the blood pouring out would save them. I was not among them.
Many of my countrymen believed this war, this slaughter, is serving some greater purpose. That it was the only way.
I was not among them.
|
*Run until your legs give out and the thundering of your heart muffles the songs of war - and then run some more.*
The mantra echoes through mind, rhythmically to every crunch of the snow beneath my stampeding feet. The air is cold. My breath is fogging my glasses, the sweat flows down my back like a stream, chilling my spine, but the heat engulfing me within my coat is enough to make me want to pass out.
*No time to stop. Not even for a second. Don't pause. Don't look back - just run.*
Can't, no - not yet. Not until command knows what's out here. Otherwise, more people will die. The others will die, the rest of them will die.
But just a glance? Maybe? Maybe... Maybe I'm far enough. I could stop, pause, steady this frantic breathing, lace up my boot. Take off this coat. Just rest for a moment, maybe. Then I could run faster, farther... maybe. Hopefully.
I feel my legs begin to stumble, enticed by my treasonous thoughts, or perhaps the snow, sinking deeper now as the trees begin to break from conifer seas to shores of barren twigs upon the vast plain before.
Shit. No cover. No - this is no good. Not good at all. This is complete and utter fucking *shit.* Come on legs, no time for failure now. Not in this deathtrap, hell no. Goddamned death sentence. Do I turn, try to skirt along the trees? The ever deepening stow says yes, but... there's no time, not even a second. My legs sway at my brief indecision. A second? I hope not. I take the risk. Hell or high water, I guess I'll swim, if I have to.
Waist deep in winter wonderland is probably the worst place to be, but no worse than getting turned around - that's for damn sure. The sun is still rising ahead, good. Still going east. Twenty more meters of snow, at best. Then, what? A kilometer to safety? Maybe? How far have I ran now? I went off track when I lost my footing and tumbled down the ridge. I knew I should have went right. What did he say about second guesses?
*Ignore 'em. They'll get you killed.*
Yeah. Right. Thanks, Stan. He gives me a quick thumbs up to my right, congratulating on my delirium. Gee, you could have warned me about how shit the terrain was down this way, hey?
Guess you *were* a bit busy dying though.
Snow breaks way to underbrush which is marginally better. I've gone from shimmy to full run again, though I seem to have lost my boot in the snow. The twigs overeagerly introduce themselves to my foot. My eyes begin to well, but if I slow, cuts will be the least of my worries, or frostbite, even. I'll just keep going east. The garrison can't be much further. It can't be.
It can't be.
Shouts? On my left? The garrison? But... that means I went right, right? Not left? Straight from the bridge, fell down the hill, went left, garrison would be left of the bridge... not right, but if it's left, I'm right?
"Fuck's it matter, right Stan?" I cough out between labored breaths.
I turn. Running straight towards the voices. The ground begins to rise before me, but no hill will slow me now, no sir. I've made it. The garrison - I can hear them - the sweet chants of war! The rumbling of gunfire, the smell of brimstone.. the what? No... what?
*Hill*?
On hands and knees I reach the top of my final hurdle towards the rising sun I'd been chasing: the fire and the flames. Men are yelling around me, cheering on the drumming of their guns. Others lay strewn about the snow, some in one part, some in a few...
Oh.
Hey, there's Stan.
There's fucking Stan. Staring at the sky above in horror with his chest pressed against red snow.
"What the fuck are you doing here, *COWARD*?!" You were supposed to run, you dumb shit!" He yells at me, full of rage despite his lifeless face.
"Yeah, I did. I did, Stan. Guess I could turned around somewhere. Guess those second guesses really will get you killed, eh? " I chuckle, but it's more of a weep.
A high pitched scream rings among the trees. The cries of men begin to fade and the gunshots meter out. The smoke fills my lungs, and I fade to black.
*And for fuck's sake buddy, remember, above all else:*
*Survive.*
| 2022-02-18T19:26:58 | 2022-02-18T18:35:49 | 101 | 35 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t…
|
I never thought my time would come. Childhood summers last forever, the school year drags, but time marched on as it always did. Before I knew it, I found myself standing there before the assembly just fourteen years of age. The whole class staring expectantly at what would become of me. I was the youngest in my year meaning that I was the last to receive my calling.
This has been an exceptional year. No scuds whatsoever, and SIX acers. From only 80 students, that was unheard of. Although this meant that the pressure on my calling was greater than possibly any before. This could be a perfect year for the academy.
As the clock struck twelve I felt it. It washed over me like nothing before and whispered my fate. I had heard the stories from others, they were overcome and immediately aware of their calling, the rules, the restrictions… their purpose. But mine, mine was different. It was over before I knew it had even begun.
I woke up surrounded by faces looking down on me. I had fainted. How embarrassing!
Ever the empath, our teacher scolded me for keeping them waiting. Roughly barking “well, Rick. What is your calling?”
“Don’t… don’t give them up…”
|
The enlightenment trials were designed to awaken unlimited potential within humans, they came to light after Archaeologists came across an old tomb, the tomb was beautifully preserved and had a wealth of knowledge within, including a rite of passage of sorts.
"The Trials Of Enlightenment" they were lead by the leader of the old world, a way to unlock hidden abilities within humans, a few people did the trials in the beginning, some died, some couldn't handle the mental strain and some were left with more questions than answers, however, a few managed to break through the end and come out reborn, stronger, faster, smarter, better.
The abilities ranged from telekinesis to necromancy and everything in between, it was found that the absolute best time for someone to go through the trial was 6 days after your 14th birthday, this gave a 97% success rate, give or take a couple points.
My sister went through it before I was born, she ended up in the ground, she was deemed too dangerous, my aunty did it and her ability turned on her, rendering her mind muddled and useless, she was sent to the "dirge" a pit for people to pay to do whatever sick things they want. My mother was lucky, she got high regeneration, so she's lived almost 4 lifetimes so far, my brothers and all the males in my family got good abilities, all the females got the shit end of the stick and that's why I'm terrified, I am to go through the trials later on and I don't know if I can, I would prefer to die than be another failed case.
As I walk up to the podium, I half-heartedly listen to the speaker, he is giving me instructions on what to do but my mind is elsewhere, I'm trying to remember all the possible outcomes, there are so many, I vaguely remember about the war that was started by Ray almost 3 centuries ago, we learned about it last year, he got one of the forbidden powers, there's meant to be 5 however some believe there is meant to be another one that has been lost to time.
These abilities started showing up thousands of years ago and when you get yours, it's meant to come with pre written text, a guide on what to do and what not to do, some shorter than others but it has been accepted that the standard size is around 700 pages, anything less could mean there's some information missing, but that's not always the case.
I place my hands on the bowl that sits on the podium, the speaker takes soft control of my mind to fill it with the correct words and pronunciation from the old language.
"s'ter mo chral'ya, reglai lo fir"
I speak these words and the water in the bowl turns to blood, a fear grips me, I'm unable to move, I'm trying to remember the excercises to stay calm but my mind is filled with pain, the pain of billions of souls, my ears are bleeding from the noise, the screeching of creatures long extinct, the whispers of the old ones long dead and the only thing I can see is myself stood atop a world a flame, I'm entranced and filled with a fear that I have never experienced.
It let's me go, I fall back down the steps and land on the grass below the podium, the guards and healers pick me up and take me to hospital.
As I slowly start to come to, one of the nurses starts asking me questions to make sure I'm alright, my mother sitting next to me, she says it's ok and that sometimes this happens, on the end of the bed was a book, it looked incredible, it was a beautiful white colour with gold outlines and four elements on the front cover, I had never seen one like this before, my mother says this is what I had in my hands after I fell off the podium steps and she's never even heard of this before.
She gives me some privacy as I pick up the book, it's soft to the touch, almost like a puppy, I open it in anticipation, I finally get to find out what I have, will it be good? Will I be able to help people? Will i be able to fly? Maybe run really fast? Or will it ruin me.
I open the book and it's empty, there's nothing there, pure white pages with nothing on them, I keep flicking through the pages starting to feel a bit nervous now until I reach the very last page, right there written in blood "Don't Touch The Stones".
The Stones? What stones? Why written in blood? I close the book and leave the hospital, I walk through a forest for some privacy, I'll have to return soon otherwise my mother will start wondering where I've gone.
Stones. Blood. So far I'm coming up with blood magic, that's one of the forbidden abilities, it's a class 2 forbidden ability, not only is it rare, it's devastating.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this.
| 2022-05-08T09:49:41 | 2022-05-08T07:54:58 | 338 | 177 |
[WP] A demon marrying an angel is not so rare, but having a child is. With neither wings nor tail, both Heaven and Hell refuse them entry, leaving them to be raised amongst the humans they look like. "Abandoned" in the middle of nowhere, you can't help but take pity, and decide to adopt the child.
|
After all, it's not an unfamiliar scenario caught between two worlds, wanted by neither. Though in your case, you had gained immortality; in hers, well, she had lost everything. You lift the basket's tag. "For you, who knows well how to tend to the fiercest of flames," it reads. "With respect, St. Peter." Peter, the apostle you had once resented for your circumstances, fought for admittance into paradise, but now have befriended, in a place of mutual understanding.
You look down at your newborn daughter, who gazes back with eyes of her father's wisdom and a smile of her mother's mischief. You hadn't really known her parents, though Peter had mentioned the scandal in passing, during your last lunch together. The child seemed like any other, besides the unnaturally sharp incisors that the note assured would wear away with age. Within, however, she possess an intelligence and cunning that far surpasses her peers.
For the first time in a long while, you set down your makeshift lantern, in order to properly cradle her in your arms. "It's a tough life, immortality," you whisperer, as you carry her to the house, "I know from experience."
Your aging wife stands on the porch, trying to peer through the darkness. Someday your daughter will lose her mother, just as you lost yours, and countless others you grew close to. Someday, you think, remembering the light you left by the road, she may even lose you. It will be a hard lesson, someday, learning the word death, the concept of mortality, that unobtainable nectar. But until that day, you will tend to her education and kindle her spirit.
"Jack," your wife calls as you step into the cabin's light. "What is it?" She stares curiously at the bundle in your arms.
You look up. "Our new flame."
|
I've always been the guy to say, "So what?" whenever I'm criticized. It's just an instinct by now, really. My mom once told me I was a slob, a failure of a son. "So what?" I told her. Then I told the nurse she could just pull the plug but she told me my mother was just in for a fractured toe.
A hot dog vendor got on my nerves once. He was all out of mustard. "You probably have some under there," I said.
"Under where?"
"Under your metal cart thing, down there. There's probably loads of them. Bottles of mustard and ketchup."
"I'm sorry sir," he said. "I'm all out of mustard."
I just stood there, with my naked hotdog, like an idiot. "Guess I'll just eat it then," I said, and I rolled my eyes at him. Then I tried to eat it all in one go, to make a point, and it got lodged in my throat somehow.
At first the hot dog vendor just looked around, trying to decide if he should just let me choke probably, but then a babe came walking by and he was fast to jump over the cart and give me the heimlich maneuver. He could've just walked around. It was just a simple hotdog cart. I guess he wanted to look cool.
The hotdog flew out of my throat, like an angry seagull, and the vendor laughed. "Don't try to scarf it all out at once," he said.
"So what?" I said, and I cried a little. "So what?"
That was when I realized that I should adopt a child, so strangers wouldn't have to save my life whenever I choked on hotdogs. It's embarrassing, really. It's better when it's your children. That way, they can feel as if they've really earned their inheritance. "I saved your life, pa. Give me my money." And it would be fair. It would be totally fair.
I noticed him standing at a bus stop, wearing a yellow baseball cap. They made me wear a yellow dunce hat when I was a kid, so I could relate to him right away. "Are you an orphan?" I asked him. And I kept asking him questions like that, but he wouldn't answer. Then a crazy lady appeared out of nowhere, and she beat me with her handbag. She called me a pervert, for no reason, and I just ran for my dear life. I think she'd filled her handbag with rocks.
That's when I met Lucriel. I ran right into him, knocked him over. He sighed deeply, and said, "Of course. First I get kicked out of the realms of gods and demons then someone crashes into me, just great. Jeesh."
"Huh?" I said. "Kicked out? By your parents?"
He brushed street dust off his clothes and I felt a bit bad. He didn't look hurt or anything. But it's not polite, knocking kids down like that.
"Yeah," he said. "They banished me to this mortal domain."
"Oh man."
"Now I am forced to dwell among the humans."
"That's rough."
"With neither wings nor tail."
"That's not right. That's not right at all."
We stood like that for a while, gawking at one another. Then I said, "Alright. You're my son now, and I'm your father?"
He blinked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
I bought us some hotdogs. Lucriel liked both ketchup and mustard on his, and it really surprised me. You have to have character, really, to have a preference like that. You don't see the world in terms of black and white, ketchup and mustard. "You're alright, kid," I said.
"I shall make the realm of the living my empire and I will lead humanity to war against gods and demons alike."
"Whoah," I said and I felt a bit embarrassed, because I'm not that ambitious. Maybe if I'd planned to take over the world when I was a kid, it would've worked out. You never know.
We had just finished our hotdogs, and luckily I didn't choke, when the sky crackled and the ground shook. Out came two people, only they weren't people really. A dude with curls and a halo over his head, and a woman with horns. It was strange.
"Mother. Father. It is too late. I will destroy the both of you."
"Lucriel," said the angel dude. "We told you no demonbox after bedtime. You can't go running off to the mortal realm whenever you get upset."
"So what?" cried Lucriel. "So what if I run away and lead the humans to war?" There were tears in his eyes.
"Lucky," said the woman with horns. "Your dad doesn't like it when you run away like that, he gets worried. Look at him. He's been crying all night."
The angel dude looked a bit embarrassed.
"Oh man," I said. "This is kind of awkward, but he's my son now. I'm his father."
"Uh," said Lucriel. "We met like half an hour ago. We just ate some hotdogs."
That little punk. "Don't disrespect your father like that," I said but the three of them just laughed at me. Then the demon woman opened a hole in the ground, hot glowing lava stuff, and she plopped herself down there with Lucriel. The angel dude shrugged, and he flew off up into the air.
"So what?" I told myself, but I didn't really feel it. "So ... what?"
| 2022-06-22T15:39:11 | 2022-06-22T13:39:09 | 15 | 10 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…
|
"I can't believe this... why haven't you... wha-"
"I can explain!"
"No! I don't want to hear what horrible things you've done!"
As he starts walking out of the house, she suddenly grabs him from the waist.
"Please! Let me explain!"
Silently they just stand there.
"Alright." He finally answered.
With a deep breath and teary eyes she exclaimed "I... litter."
"Litter...?" He looks at her dumbfounded.
"...A lot."
And then he _dumped_ her.
|
Time seems to stand still. I look at the cut oozing with blackness. She stares at me with a look of fear. I just keep trying to process what just happened. This woman I've loved for years, who is she? My mind starts coming together. "Lisa, lets go to the bathroom and take care of that, it looks nasty." I say calmly.
"You're not afraid?" She asks terrfied. "I can explain, it's nothing!" She seems to be panicking. I walk over to her and place my arms around her in comfort.
"You don't have to explain, it's okay. Let's just go take care of it." I said using a calm tone. I start to direct her to the bathroom. At first she hesitates but then willingly goes with me to the bathroom. I turn on the sink and place her arm where the cut is under the water. "Just rinse it out I'll go get some towels." I can tell she's starting to calm down. I walk out of the bathroom and immediately slam the door shut. I begin to use all my muscle to drag our dresser in front of the bathroom door.
"ELIJAH! ELIJAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I hear Lisa scream from the bathroom. She begins to try and open the door. When that fails she starts banging on it and continues to call my name.
"I'LL NEVER BE AROUND SOMEONE LIKE YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BETRAYED ME LIKE THIS! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" I scream through the door. After I have the dresser blocking the door I run to get my cell phone and immediately call the hotline number. "You have to help, there's one of them in my apartment!"
I hear the operator start typing, "Remain calm sir, help is on the way. We sent them out to your address on file. Are you safe right now?"
"Yes, I have her trapped in the bathroom. Please hurry!" I hang up the phone and begin pacing. The fifteen minutes it took for the police to arrive was an eternity. I kept pacing and checking the dresser hadn't moved. All I could hear from the bathroom was Lisa sobbing. "Good," I thought to myself "at least I know she's still in there." I hear a knock on my door and rush to open it. Two policemen are standing in my hallway.
"Where is this person sir?" they inquire. I take them straight to the dresser. All three of us move it out of the way. I walk to the furthest corner of the room. They announced to Lisa they were coming in and would use deadly force. They open the door and check it's safe inside. I see them go in and hear the usual rights being read. They walk out carrying Lisa by her arms, she looks defeated. I begin to get sick to my stomach at the sight of her. They take her out to their car and one of them returns.
"It's a good thing you called us when you did sir. You never know what these types are capable of. We'll do all the usual processing and let you know what's next." He informed me.
"I don't care what you do with that thing, I want nothing to do with her." I say, hate filling the air. The officer just nods and leaves a copy of his report with me. I go back to the bedroom and start putting things back to how they should be. Exhausted from the adrenaline rush I lay down and fall asleep.
The next day I wake up, I lie in bed replaying the night before. Exhausted and unsure what to do I go about my daily routine. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I start shaving my stubble. Almost in auto pilot while I came to grasps with everything. The next thing I know I feel a sharp pain on my chin and see some blood fall into the sink. I quickly grab some toilet paper to stop it. Looking down I notice my blood was a dark gray. "It was never that dark before, and I just got a paper cut a month ago." I think to myself. I stare at it a few minutes more before finishing my shave and cleaning myself up some more.
I go out into the living room, stare at the life that could've been. A few minutes later I post on Facebook about Lisa. Making sure everyone knows what she is and why we aren't together anymore.
| 2016-09-22T23:44:59 | 2016-09-22T19:10:06 | 150 | 81 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…
|
"I can't believe this... why haven't you... wha-"
"I can explain!"
"No! I don't want to hear what horrible things you've done!"
As he starts walking out of the house, she suddenly grabs him from the waist.
"Please! Let me explain!"
Silently they just stand there.
"Alright." He finally answered.
With a deep breath and teary eyes she exclaimed "I... litter."
"Litter...?" He looks at her dumbfounded.
"...A lot."
And then he _dumped_ her.
|
"No, it's not what you think. I can explain!" She proceeded to back away slowly, wide-eyed and pale in the face.
"W-w-who are y-you" she stuttered. I could see tears in her eyes, threatening to betray her.
"I promise I'm still the same man you fell in love with. I've made some mistakes I'm not proud of but I've changed!"
She shook her head slowly and shoved me into the brick wall, my head hitting the hard surface. "How could you!? I've told you everything about me and yet you dare hide something like this from me?" Her tears finally betrayed her and I watched as they slid down her cheeks. I never meant to hide it from her but I was scared that she wouldn't accept me if she knew. But it was too late. She hated me, I could hear it in her voice. I gazed into her sapphire eyes, mesmerized by her beauty.
"I promise I will make it up to you." I tucked her hair in behind her ear and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away. That was the last time I saw her alive.
The next morning started out like any other day. I sat at my cubicle and contemplated life. It was part of my routine as I had quite a bit of extra time between phone calls and there was always something eating away at my mind. I had thought about Kailyn and how things went down last night. Suddenly a wave of guilt washed over me. Maybe I shouldn't have left her in the way that I did? I didn't want to give her a chance to break up with me. She has always been my saving grace and I don't know what I'd do without her.
We met when we were both 18 and, at the time, I was depressed to the point where I tried to end my life but she was always able to talk me out of it. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with her and propose. I could feel my face getting warm and a smile threatening to show itself on my face, making my lips quiver as I tried to hide it. If only she knew how much she means to me. Suddenly I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and when I answered the call, my whole world turned upside down.
"Is your name Steven Donovan?"
"Yes"
"And your fiancé's name is Kailyn Wilson?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is Martin Wells. I am a police officer from NYPD. I've got some bad news. Kailyn has been involved in a car wreck. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this but..She didn't make it."
My face went cold and my entire body went numb. I dropped the phone on the desk and sat there, motionless. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button because time had cease to exist in my newly distorted perception of reality.
"Are you alright?" I turned over to see my manager suddenly standing next to me with a concerned look on his face. In a soft tone, I muttered "No." It was all I was able to get out before balling my eyes out. Yes, right in front of my manager. But I didn't care. All that mattered was that my Cinderella was gone.
That was when I began drinking every night but no matter how much I drank, I could never drink the pain away. It was this constant stabbing pain that hit my soul every time I took a breath. I could never forget my angel. One night, the pain was too much to bare and I held a gun to my head. It was more than satisfying to feel the tip of the gun against the side of my head because It was the only thing that felt real to me. This was the only way that I could end the pain I was in and kill the demons leeching off of my soul.
As I brushed the trigger with my finger, I thought back to the last time I saw her. She was so perfect. Her hair was black as the midnight sky and her blue eyes shown brighter than all of the stars. I absolutely adored the way her face would light up every time she saw me. I felt my face come to life as I smiled, a real authentic smile.
"I made a promise to you and i plan on keeping it. I choose to live. For you."
| 2016-09-22T23:44:59 | 2016-09-22T16:56:11 | 150 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them!
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Cats. They're absolutely everywhere. The stupid things breed so fast that even game shows tell you to neuter them. Calicos and ragdolls, Siamese and otherwise can be found all over the world. It's ridiculous that such a common creature be intertwined with my one true purpose in life. Do you know what it's like to be a "crazy cat lady" at seven?? You don't get a lot of dates that way, not when Sharon's talent is probably dick sucking. Sorry, just venting. Anyway, the silly little felines have always loved me. When I was wearing scrunchies in my crimped hair and later on when I finally graduated from university. Since I've always felt a sense of injustice when it came to talents, I decided to seek my own sense of justice I suppose. Not many women I knew pursued the police force like I did. I ran until I threw up as feral tabbies effortlessly jogged beside me. They kept me up with their purrs and head butts as I studied for exams. The stupid and adorable things were by my side no matter what, and damn did they grow on me. I was thirty when a huge Maine Coon hopped into my squad car. My partner, Marco, was annoyed but he'd learned to deal with it by now. All the kid heard was a bunch of hissing, but fuck me if I didn't hear all about Mrs. Fluffyboots being pissed at a drug dealer kicking her kitten. My coffee dropped from my hand and only the lukewarm liquid dripping on my thigh snapped me out of it. Needless to say, cats are everywhere. They breed so often and are on every damn continent. And now? I'm the best intelligence gatherer the U.S. Government has ever seen.
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I was walking home from work in the cold sleet, wishing I had a car. No one did, not anymore. All the vehicles not used by the military were scrapped for the war. I lived in The Sanctuary, one of the few human cities independent of the Animal Kingdoms. We had to fight every day to maintain it, and military service was mandatory. I had worked at an ammunition factory for 3 years, ever since I was 14. After 4 years of civil service I'd only have to serve one year instead of two. I took this program because the pay's decent, and the average soldier lives for a few months.
Pets are nonexsitant here, but there are "stray" cats and dogs all over the place. On civil service program involves rounding all these up, but many evade them. These "strays", as all school children know, are very aggressive and hostile to humans, often growling and barking before scampering off; however, cats have never been like that to me. My friends would be hissed at and scratched, but I could pick them up and they'd purr with delight. This was noticed by many people, including the Ministry of Defence who feared that I, like the "stray" animals, was a spy.
Walking down the deserted alleyway, I heard a low rumble from behind. I turned, only to be confronted with two leopards. I tried to run, but a third leopard blocked my escape. They lunged, and slashed me across the chest. One tackled me, but was pulled away by a massive german shepherd. A pack of the biggest dogs I've ever seen flooded the alleyway, and parlayed with the big cats. I ran, and was stopped by a pitbull. It wanted me to follow it, and I did. It lead me out of the city. Along the way, I'd see small flocks of birds badger random areas on rooftops, only for a tomcat or two to spill out and get chased off. A few were scooped up by hawks.
Crawling through a small tunnel that smelled awful, I emerged in a forest, and collapsed from the shock and massive lesions across my chest. I awoke in a room. I could see the walls of Sanctuary out my window. I heard a knock at my door and two middle aged men came in. They introduced themselves as the King of Dogs and the Lord of Birds. I was in a fortress and main base of operations for the two men's war against the Queen of Cats. They told me I shared here affinity with cats, and that she wanted to kill me and take out a possible rival. My powers are weak now and I can barely control cats, but eventually they'll develop enough to rival her's. I was rescued so that they may use me as a weapon, I could undermine her powers and give them the edge they need to win.
I've been kept here for 40 days now. While I'm free to walk around the castle I'm escorted by sheep dogs and birds watch my every move. Lately I've been confined to my room. I have a marvelous view of the dogs and birds heading to the front. Everyday a column of dogs marches off in eager spirits. Every night, an equally large column of wounded dogs limps back. My room is right above the infirmary, the howls of anguish and the yelps of the doomed keep me awake for hours. The columns marching off have been getting smaller, and the ones marching back are getting larger. I see fewer and fewer birds flitting about. The war goes poorly. The dogs and birds have been fighting amongst eachother. The amiable sheep dog was replaced by a pack of mean wolves and a cassowary.
Tonight, I was awoken by a soft voice repeating "Wake up, wake up." I opened my eyes to see a cat standing on my chest. I jumped up but was hushed. "Silence in golden right now." the cat began "The Queen apologizes for the excessive forced used earlier, it really was over the top but you were incapable of understanding us at the time. The Queen wishes to have you in her palace. She is an old woman, and here years are numbered. While twice as powerful as her adversaries, thanks to her age, she is almost 80, and needs an heir. Come with me, we can smuggle you out and take you to the palace."
"I'm not sure I trust you." I proclaimed.
"That's understandible, but we're your best bet for survival. The dogs and birds have lost, their line has collapsed, the cheetahs have the area surrounded. There is a rift in the alliance. The Lord of Birds is retreating, and wishes to take you away with him. He's really bad at keeping a secret, since everyone knows and the King of Dogs wants to kill you. You can't return to Sanctuary either, as you were declared an enemy of the species and had your humanity formally revoked. If you could make it to their trenches alive you'll be shot on sight. Hurry now, with me. If you run away with the birds and are inevitably captured when the birds get intercepted no mercy shall be shown to you."
So now here I am. The cassowary was killed outside by the sound of it. I can see the King of Dogs marching through the courtyard with a group of wolves. I can here dogs and birds fighting out in the hallway. My only choice appears to be with the Queen of Cats, and I don't by that "excessive force" story. I fear this may be the end for me.
| 2016-12-30T12:19:12 | 2016-12-30T11:51:08 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] A world of fantastic creatures cross dimensions to invade our Earth; but alas, they battle us with medieval swords, bows and magic. We have guns, grenades and missiles. Lots of them.
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"I've never seen such foul Magic. They can point at our men and kill them instantly!" Commander Bogrik yelled, slamming his fist onto the table. He was an odd creature that appeared mostly Humanoid, save for the head of a dog that sat upon his shoulders.
The gathering around him consisted of the council of the Walresti Mercenary Company, an invasion force that had been sent from their world on many excursions to alternate dimensions. They were armed with the finest steels and the most ancient of Magics, and housed some of the most proficient fighters across the land. They were unbeatable, and had slaughtered and subjugated droves of creatures in their time.
"What do they call this Magic?" Slurped Magrik, a violet creature that resembled more a blob than anything else, with many protruding tendrils that each held an eye near their ends. He was the master of Magic in the company, and did not need a logical form- much to his fortune.
The Council glanced at each other as the atmosphere in the room grew more intense, before a small Goblin-like creature ran into the room and slapped a tome down on the table. He nodded briefly and scurried away, leaving Oolik to scour through the pages.
Oolik was the Keeper of Records, a creature of shadow that served very little purpose in combat. He had resorted to the writings of a scout for insight into the world they were visiting.
"It seems..." He paused, running his fingers along the dusty pages. "It seems we have underestimated their progress. When last we stole their Magic, we learnt only to improve it. It seems they had used it to delve deeper."
"Well, what the hell is it called?" Said Magrik, his many eyes rolling around in frustration.
Oolrik rolled a glance up to Magrik, releasing a light huff as he continued. "They call it Science. It is based heavily on Mathematics; the foundation of their world and their laws. This dimension is unlike anywhere we have visited."
"What does this mean? How can we fight against this?" Yelled Bogrik.
"We were only able to fight them once with their own Magics, and it has been the most useful in our endeavors since. Our Ancestors left after the Giigalag were constructed."
"The Pyramids?" Asked Magrik, his many eyes looming over the table as he attempted to look within the pages.
Oolrik nodded. "They have used their Magic to strip us of those resources. They are no longer useful, and have lost all of their properties."
"What else does it say?" Bogrik asked, stepping up to take a closer look alongside Magrik.
"They..." Oolrik paused, his eyes widening as he shot his chair back and rose to his feet. "This... we must leave immediately. We must close the portal!" He yelled as he ran outside of the tent, the others leaning in to inspect the image drawn on the page.
It appeared to be an illustration of a mushroom.
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Eagle screech echoed across the windswept plain, the sort she had fought, and died, on many times before. Arrayed across the centre were the mighty corps of warriors assembled from many nations, the sort who bent the knee when her guards rode through their puny towns, the sort who dared not make eye contact lest they sought her wrath. What did they know of power? She was power, and this next word, Urth, was hers for the taking.
Huddled up beside her, wrapped in animal furs and oversized helmet, the feeble denizen of this world who had summoned her shivered involuntarily as she cast her gaze over him. She enjoyed the sensation, knowing full well that when the time came she would dispose of him in the ritual that would unlock the conjunction of the spheres and make this Urth her plaything. That was until she got bored and moved onto the next planet in the alignment.
A small cough broke her thoughts, and she turned sharply towards the interloper, a small satyr clad in gilt armour. "You most worshipful Majesty", he stammered, "I bring tidings from yonder town."
She turned away from him, and looked back at the strange buildings dotting the horizon, the first small fall muddied and trampled by multiple contraptions that belched smoke into the pristine air. A line of petty humans, as the inhabitants were wont to call themselves, were arrayed defensively behind their hulks, metal sticks pointed out over the top. She could not help but laugh, what good would they be against her magnificent hoard.
With a sneer she turned back to her flunky, "Spit it out then."
For a moment the satyr clutched at the fabric protruding from his armour, and then with resolution took a deep breath, "Most worshipful One, they both tell you to go fuck yourself."
Now she was amused. "Prey, with what do they want me to 'fuck' myself with? Their bloodied stumps perhaps?"
The satyr took a pace back, then another, but he was too late, for by the time he made the first her hand had shot out and grasped him round the neck. She pulled him close, and gazed into his terror filled eyes. "Yes, you know to fear me, boy. You know I birthed the great demon Shem'lac from these very loins. You know I seduced the Duke Megoin, and his wife, then while they sated their lust I slit their throats so that their lands were mine." She jabbed a slender finger into the satyr's cheek, "So, my faithful minion, tell me this, what do my loins have to fear from them?"
With a thrust of her index finger she signaled for the centre to move forward, and with a squeeze of her hand she felt the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh. "Guards, clean up this mess, and fetch me a new Chamberlain."
A blood red sunset cast itself over the fresh snow, and in perfect unison her hoard marched forth before her, all in perfect battle order, discipline instilled with petrified fear of her wrath. None broke rank, and each marched forth knowing that she only brought them victory.
Victory, yes, that was it, victory. Of all the worlds in all the spheres she only knew victory. Today would be no different.
Off on the left flank a great roar when up, "Vive L'Empress, Vive L'Empress..."
A wry smile traced across her lips, yes, long live herself.
Five hundred paces out she motioned to her cavalry bannersman, motioning forward. The hulking brute waved his banner with all the strength he could muster, and with all the parade ground discipline the centre parted, allowing her magnificent Elder Guard cavalry to charge through and on-wards to the fools beyond.
Horns sounded, banners fluttered, breath flared in the cold air, and with a mighty clattering of hooves the cavarly charged the hulks arrayed before them.
Then, a sharp sound reached her ears, like a swarm of wasps, angry, insistent. In the dying embers of the day small lights flared from the hulks, a chattering insistent death spat forth to harvest warriors who struck down a hundred worlds. Mounts reared up, collapsed, shed blue and black ichor over the snow; screams of the wounded and dying punctured the air, deflating all hope...
No, this was not how it was meant to be, for she was the Centurion Empress, ruler of all she surveyed, and nothing would stop her. She motioned for the cavalry to retreat, and with a second flick of her wrist signaled for the planes walkers to strike from the shadows.
Now the snow shimmered and heaved, as if reality itself was bending the will of infernal forces. Skittering over the ground shadows darted and twisted until paces from the closest hulk they formed into the lithe forms of her deadliest warriors, each carrying a sword cast from a fallen star. More angry light spewed forth, and as valiant as her champions were, each fell in turn as the light reached out and smote them down.
Anger burned forth inside, and try as she might she could not bury it, the usual calm of battle deserting her. In a rage she snatch the dragon host's banner from the ogre, and with all the might she could muster signaled for the squadron of five dragons hovering behind to move forward in formation to strike the interlopers down with righteous fire. Off they flew, beasts from the depths of the third world to bend its knee to her, terrifying, shock and awe. Whoosh of wings beat the air, grass dancing as they made for the hulks.
From a distant roof a flash erupted, then another, joined by four more. White streaks burst forth into the velvet sky, ember glinting, and then with the radiance of minor suns her beloved dragons lit up the sky, incandescent and eerily beautiful in their death. Time ebbed away, slowing, a lazy tide sweeping all hope before it as five stars lit up the battle field anew.
Rage consumed her, a fury rising from the depths, and with one final roar she sent her army crashing across the accursed plain, "Charge!"
* * *
He pointed at the beautiful corpse surrounded by the hulking monsters, and spat out drunkenly, "Someone should have told her you don't invade Russia in winter."
Pavel nudged him in the shoulder, his bandaged hand nursing the half empty vodka bottle. "Ha! Tell that to the next fucker who tries to interrupt your cousin's birthday party, though it was one hell of a show."
| 2017-09-14T11:21:07 | 2017-09-14T07:49:00 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch
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Finally, the last day of exams then I could get away from this hell even for just the summer. Today seemed to drag on forever. After lunch I only had 2 more exams then I was home free. The downside was my exam for science, my worst subject. I just didn't understand.
I took my time answering the questions on the god awful test but I already knew I wasn't going to do well. I wanted nothing more than to just throw the whole thing away and walk away.
I could feel my hair pull as I ran my fingers through my hair for possibly the millionth time. It was knotted by now due to my frustration and fingers. I sat back in my seat and scanned over the rest of my class. Everyone else seemed to be in a similar state of frustration except for the few that actually understood.
With a resigning sigh I picked up my pencil and proceeded with my exam. Only a few more questions I can do this. Just a few more. I continued to give myself a pep talk in my head but it wasn't working. So close to finishing and I was stuck on something I just didn't understand.
I clenched my pencil in my hand and dug my nails into my palm. Lips pressed together and teeth clenched shut I couldn't help but release an internal scream at the ridiculousness of this test. As I did I sat back and caught a rather cute boy two rows in front of me and over one to my right jump. I stared at him for a moment in confusion. Surely he didn't hear that. I shook off the thought and stretched my arms into the air. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him scanning the class. Our eyes met briefly and his face blushed. He quickly turned back to his exam in front of him.
I couldn't help but wonder if I was just being paranoid or if he really did hear me. I quickly finished my exam and waited for class to be over. As the bell rang we turned in our exams and headed for the door. I tried my best not to dwell on my suspicions but couldn't help but think of his reaction.
As i headed for the student parking the cute boy from class caught up to me. He lightly grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the hallway.
"For the love of everything, don't ever do that again." My jaw dropped as he scanned our class mates before turning his chocolate brown eyes onto me once again. With one last glance he turned away and headed for the other end of the school.
*first prompt reply. Posted on mobile.
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"Mr. S?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I just get something off my chest?"
"Sure, kid. 'Course you can."
"Band class is fucking boring when nobody actually tries. You just sit there with your instrument on your lap, staring into fuckin' space, listening to the poor teach' tryna get the attention of the class while everybody just screams. The baritone section is a mess, only one trumpet is decent, and you can't hear the flutes *or* the clarinets.
So she yells, "Alright! Alto saxes, come here!"
So we do, 'cause four of us aren't dipshits.
And then she says, "Guys, this is Michael. He's in grade eleven, and he's going to tutor you for a few weeks."
This dude, this dude is somethin'.
So she sends us into a practice room, and we all take a seat, and he gives us a once-over, and I give him a once-over, Christ, Mr. S, you should've seen that dude. His eyes are this perfect almond shape, and they're a perfect coffee-colour. He has this shoulder-length curly hair, but it's *real* soft, and he has a sharp nose and chin and cheekbones. Big lips. He was wearing this oversized sweater, red and brown stripes, and weird jeans, and *weed* socks, but he said that was 'cause the rest of his socks were in the laundry. He had a wrist brace on, and he says it's 'cause he broke his thumb. He has olive-coloured skin, like what Katniss Everdeen was supposed to look like. He's cocky like a fucking asshole, but... There's something more.
Pardon the French."
-------------------------
"Mr. S?"
"Talk to me kiddo."
"So I have a huge crush on him. *You* know. Michael. So he's cocky like a fucking asshole, like I said. But, god. I think I'm hopelessly in love. Day 1 of tutoring, he tells me to just play. Said it wasn't good but that I was the best out of all the saxes.
Then, like a week of tutoring, and I was practicing outside of class, and again we're playing, he says I'm the best again. Gosh, I can't tell you how red I got after that, Mr. S. But anyway, yesterday the rest of the saxes just... wandered off? And it was just me and him. And he looked at me. *He looked at me*. But not in a mean way. Just sort of... a way. And told me to play with the metronome, and 'course I didn't 'cause I don't really know how, and when I was done he *laughed*. And then I saw him on the bus home, Mr. S, I saw him, and we made eye contact, and he *laughed* and smiled his stupid dork smile. He has crooked teeth. Real crooked teeth. And we've done it a few times! At Halloween, he dressed up as a soldier, and lemme tell you, he looks damn good in a uniform, and I was Waldo, and we were walking down the hall, and we did the same thing.
My heart always does that thing where it leaps into my throat, and I get all floaty and I can't breathe. I'm really in love, Mr. S."
"Y'know kiddo, I don't doubt that you are. I really don't."
--------------------
"Mr. S! I think he's psychic?"
"What?"
"I think he's psychic! So today, it was band, and I was real bored 'cause everyone was being a dipshit again, and I decided to scream in my head, 'cause I wanted to check for psychics. So I screamed, just like 'hey!', and he flinched! Also, we've been Snapchatting each other a lot, *and* he likes *all* my Instagram photos. That really means a lot to us high schoolers ya know. I don't know him all that well, to be true, but god, he's somethin' else. He doesn't feel like any other boy I know. He's... not stupid."
"Honey, I think you gotta ask this boy on a date."
----------------
"What are you running from?"
He takes their hands in his.
"What?"
"What are you running from? Your thoughts are always so... jumbled. And when they're not, they're so... sad. What's goin' on?"
They look down. Shit's going on, that's true, but, it's hard to verbalize feelings most of the time. It's getting dark around the two, wind starting to blow in from the north, bringing the cold front that the weatherman promised. It blows some of that damn curly hair into his eyes. But he persists, tilting their head up to look in their eyes. He doesn't read what they think right now. He could, but that'd ruin it. He wants them to talk to him. He tries *his* damnedest to talk, because he's been in love with them and their mad eyes and weird hair since he saw them, but they're just so damn shy.
"I've never heard anyone with thoughts like yours. C'mon, if something's wrong, you can tell me."
They sigh.
"I-I dunno. I guess my parents have just been fightin' an awful lot. My best friend doesn't talk to me anymore," sadness is so thick in their voice, "I guess I just feel like I don't wanna go on anymore."
He nods.
They sit quietly, just taking in each other, taking in the Toronto autumn, the Toronto night around them. Right when it's about to get dark, the two get up and walk off to the bus stop. Together, they walk onto the bus. Together, they sit. They lean into him, he leans onto them, pressing a kiss onto their forehead.
They really are in love. Even if they're young and dumb and sweet and naive, they're in love. All 'cause they saw him flinch.
| 2017-11-13T19:48:45 | 2017-11-13T19:45:25 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who.
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The Captain filled a small container with what had to be bourbon, carefully sealing the spout to prevent any of the liquid from floating away. As I dogged the hatch behind me, I saw that he already had his drink in hand.
First day aboard a starship, and I'm drinking with the boss? Not a bad start.
Captain Leonov sent my drink floating through the air. I caught it without thinking, using my other hand to hold onto the wall of his quarters. I had never been drunk in 0 g, and this small container wasn't going to do the job either.
"You handled spacedock well, Commander," He said. "I was told that this was your first deep space assignment, but from your conduct, I could not tell."
"I've been on the Titan run for the last year, and Luna before that." I shrugged, the tiny movement a third of what it would have been dirtside. More than that and I'd float off. "Spacedock is just a bigger port, when you get down to it."
"Perhaps," the Captain replied. Now that I had a chance to listen, I could tell that something was on his mind. The old man was worried.
I floated closer to him, approaching the cupola-style window of his quarters. "What's on your mind, sir?"
He looked at me, with a tinge of sadness in his eyes. "How did Natalya handle the launch?"
My wife had been angry, truth be told. We were shipping out sooner than planned, and going to parts unknown for who knows how long. She wanted stability for our sons, and the run to Jupiter space had afforded that - one month on, one off. Yesterday had been the angriest I had seen her since before we revealed our names, hers on my shoulder and mine on her ankle.
The relief on her face when she knew that she was mine, and I hers - we had made love that night, for the first time. I think we started Anatoliy that night, honestly.
"She was fine," I lied. "She is a spacer's wife, sir."
The Captain nodded, saying nothing. He took a pull from his drink.
"Sir, what's on your mind?"
The Captain looked at me, and that sadness was there still. He grabbed a folder from the wall, Velcro breaking the quiet with a stiff ripping sound. Tipping it to me, he sent it on a slow trajectory across the room. Plucking it from the air, I unzipped the folder and looked a the contents. A bright red EYES ONLY across the top gave me pause. Below that, I saw the table of contents - and noted that the package included first contact protocols.
My heart stilled as I got to page two.
"72 days ago, we received this transmission. It's from an object in the belt. I don't know the details, of course, but I guess the big brains figured out that it was base 8. And that let them figure out that it was a series of pixels, and that those made images." The Captain nodded toward the folder. "You're holding some of those images in your hand. The first confirmed signal from a non terrestrial intelligence. Our mission is to go to that point in space and see who sent this."
I looked again, to be certain. The image I saw, the one that changed everything, was a star chart. Ours was marked, as well as several others. Eridani, Centauri, so on. The markings were utterly alien - and immediately familiar. I looked at the Captain.
He rolled up his sleeve. The Naval tattoo he had on his forearm took new meaning. On the hull of the small spacecraft, a series of dots and swirls was apparent. You might miss the alien script, if you didn't know to look for it.
"No one knew what it meant," he began. "So I covered it up, as soon as I could. Command knows, of course - your names are always recorded. But I figured mine was a placeholder, that I would die somehow with no one to blame." A sad chuckle came from the man. "How could we know?"
Wordlessly, I unzipped my uniform. Pulling the tunic open, I saw the captain's eyes grow wide as he saw. For on my collarbone was the same set of dots and swirls. The same alien script.
The Captain nodded. "Everyone on board has the same. 72 men, 14 women."
I nodded, absently. Then I emptied my drink.
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Written in scar tissue across a man’s back, there would always be a name. Another man’s name, the kind our culture crafted from blood and dirt to evoke that very image. The prevailing theory was that the name etched in raised flesh would be the name of that man’s killer. Or it wasn’t a theory, exactly, because it always proved to be true. Men would meet on the battlefield and exchange names. Duels were inscribed in fate before they were ever won. They meant everything to us, our names.
Written in thin ribbons of blood across a man’s back, there would always be a name. A woman’s name, the kind our culture crafted from wind and snow to evoke that very image. The prevailing theory was that the name written in raised lines would be the name of that man’s lover. Or it wasn’t a theory, exactly, because it always proved to be true. Men and women would meet on windblown hills and exchange names. Marriages were inscribed in our bodies and souls before two hands ever touched. Allegiances were broken and reforged on blood-soaked ground, by the grace of the names written by the fates. They meant everything to us, our names.
The elders did not tell us the stories of men with the names of two men scrawled across their spines, or the women who had any names at all. Our lives were built around precarious lies, and they were careful to keep all of that from crumbling down. Child, this is a man’s world, they would say as a round-cheeked girl toddled towards their tales. They would turn her around, twist her where she stood, and send her off to be told tales of other things. Of the women’s world, whatever that was. We understood that she was excluded from this. That she could not possibly have two names stamped on her heart, as we did. A man and a woman. Destined to be.
They were private things, the scars we had always had. Or they were supposed to be. I woke one night to the sound of silence, nothing but the moon overhead, luminous in its cold judgment. Then ragged breaths, a woman panting for another wind that would never come. I heard the breath pass from her lips to her son’s, the cries of any newborn child, and then screams. My own breath stilled. I could hear voices, low and dark, full of twisted things. The child had the names of two men, inked in scarlet across his chest. There was nothing to be done for him. I listened to him scream for one heartbeat, and then two, and then silence again.
The woman was dead the next morning. There was no sign of the child. We buried her body beneath the snow and the dirt, and pretended that we did not see the red bleed through the ice. I knew then that there was no chance that a child with two bloodied names would ever come to be. That this path would carry on unbroken. That the stories our elders told came true only because they forced them to come true, and because anyone who stood in their path would be cut down in an instant. I wondered if it was an elder’s name, coiled in crimson around that infant’s heart.
Then I met him.
I was too young to understand it then, and I am too old to understand it now, but I felt it strongly then. When I met him, it felt as if the entire world grew still. No, it was not the earth tipped on its axis. It was not the unraveling of a centuries-old yarn my elders had continued to spin. It was not even the silence after a cold, biting rain, or the chill that runs down a man’s spine after he removes his knife from another man’s throat. It was a small silence. A moment’s breath. Then the space between us grew smaller, and the moment was shattered. He drew nearer, and I could feel my breath on my lips, my heart beating in my chest.
You are Endymion, I said, and it felt as if the words stood still and shivered in the air, tiny shards of frost, or glass. Pointed things, the kind that could prick my fingers if I was not careful enough. You are Endymion, I thought, and I am going to die. I had two names across my back, just as any other boy who had survived to my age did, and I had traced his name with my fingertips far too many times, wondering when I would meet him. Wondering when the thread of my fate would meet and tangle with his, and when only one silken thread would remain. Whether it would be before or after I met Merope. I had the answers, now, and they were not the kind that I had favored, when I still thought that there was romance in the script that curled down my spine.
Your name is Selenus, he said, and my eyes darted up to his own. You are not going to die, he said, and I marveled at the softness in his voice, the honey that colored the tones of the man who was going to kill me. How convincing he was, standing there before me, in the center of a battlefield. He knew, just as I did, that only one of us would survive this day. This was his people’s tradition, just as it was mine, and all around us there were men pairing off, all around the bloodied earth. Our histories would determine our future.
There was no longer any space between us. We do not kill our infant children who have two men’s names on their skin, he said, and my eyes widened with shock. In one fluid movement, he bared his back to me, and revealed his soul. If I had wanted to kill him, if I had wanted to defy the fates, in that moment, I could. But I did not. Because I froze, and I saw my own name written there, beside another. I do not know if I made the right choice, he said, his voice suddenly soft in a way I had not heard before. You could be the man to kill me. But I will take that risk, because for our people, there are no presumptions. We have no way to determine whether the names on our backs are the names by which we will live or die.
But I would live by your side, he said, and if it is to be that we kill one another, I will let it be. My heart thudded dully in my chest. I had the names of a man and a woman on my skin, and tradition said what it should be, but when I closed my eyes I heard the screams of that murdered child, and I knew that our traditions knew nothing of what should and should not be. I opened my eyes again. He was still there, before me, his hand outstretched. I steadied myself, and stretched out my own fingers. Let the fates laugh, I said, and I swear by every god I know that his smile was the sweetest thing I had ever been graced with being able to see.
The elders were wrong, you see, and they could not keep fate at bay forever. My names should have been normal. Endymion should have killed me there, just as hundreds of his clansmen killed hundreds of my own. Merope should have grown up lost, without a lover. But she’s here. And she’s coming for me, just as it has always been written, just as I always knew that she would. Because it’s true — our names do determine who will kill us, and who will love us until the day we die. But they’re wrong, when they say that a man kills a man, and a man loves a woman. There’s no way to know.
I know, because my names should have been normal. But Merope, she is somewhere out there, with her blades tipped with poison, and I welcome her, even as she seeks to strengthen the traditions which I hope to destroy. She believes in the old gods, the gods I once thought were real, the fates that decree only a man and a woman should be together forever. She will kill me, and she will fulfil the very prophecies she seeks to deny.
I welcome her. With outstretched arms. Then, I can be with my darling Endymion again.
| 2018-03-11T08:45:50 | 2018-03-11T08:09:30 | 120 | 84 |
[WP] So this is what being in a car crash felt like. Not as painful as you thought it would be. But you can't feel your toes. You look down, your leg is missing from the knee onwards. There's no blood, no bone, no muscles. Instead you see mechanical components.
|
"What in the holy hell?" I asked, I imagined I could hear the whirring coming from my sheared off leg. Why was I not going into shock. Either from the accident or from finding out I'm this, or that part of me is, anyway. Was I some kind of cyborg? How would I not know this?
I reached down and tugged on a sheared piece of metal and sliced it into my arm. No pain. I moved my "skin" out of the way to the complex machinery below.
"Warning. Warning. Warning." Suddenly appeared in flashing red letters at the center of my vision, "Severe damage detected. Initiating self-check. System integrity at 99%. Weaponry at 100%. Mobility at 73%. Severe damage to lower right leg. Initiating repairs."
"Is anyone in there?" I heard yelling rise above the sound of the sirens as a voice spoke into the crumpled interior of my car. I did not answer. Snow flakes gently floated through a small hole in the roof to add to the nonreality of everything around me.
I felt a tingling in my leg. The metal of the car around my leg had turned fuzzy and my leg was rebuilding itself.
"Damage 27% repaired. Nano-salvage construction in progress, please do not move. Hello." I read in my vision and was a little startled at the last part.
"Hello," I said out loud.
"Somebody's alive in this one, Tony! Get the jaws!" I heard the voice outside yell.
"I apologize for your premature wakeup, please do not be alarmed," the letters appeared as if in answer.
"Yeah, ok," I whispered, the leg was regrowing as I watched.
"Leg 89% complete," the lettering spoke, "Reinitializing in ten seconds."
Above me there was the sound of metal ripping and I said, "What does that mean? What is going on?"
"Now is not yet the time," the lettering answered, "Leg repair complete. RI in 3, 2..."
"No, wait!" I yelled.
"1." the lettering flickered and the blackness came.
_____
"Hey Louie," the paramedic asked his partner, gesturing to the victim they had just pulled from the pileup, "How the hell is her pant leg gone below the knee but she doesn't have a scratch on her?"
"Hell if I know," Louie answered, "Stranger things happen every day. Lets find somebody who needs our help."
|
When you were young - no more than a child who reached the height of your mother’s hips - you remember waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of a doorbell. You pull back the soft covers that swaddle you away from the rest of the world and slip through your bedroom door into the dark, cold hallway. You follow the ringing down towards the hall, passing by what seems like thousands of hanging picture frames in your childlike eyes. You make your way into the kitchen and find your mother in a daze. You watch as she turns white - as white as the snow you played in earlier that morning - and falls to the floor. You watch as she crumbles before you, tears streaming down her face like a never-ending waterfall. You can’t stop the noise that escapes your throat. You’ve never seen her like this - she’s always been this steady tower, undissolvable and upright against storms of forceful tides. She looks up from her spot on the dusty kitchen floor, finally noticing you. It’s in that moment that you see your mother as human (you realize this very early in life, but you never forget it). She holds her arms out to you and when you race into them, she holds you tight - as if you would disappear if she didn’t, as if she weren’t disappearing beneath *your* eyes. She tells you one thing, on this dusty and old kitchen floor, holding you tightly as if you were the last thing in the world. She whispers these words in the dark - under the blinking stars - over and over again, as if they were a secret - as if they were the hardest things she’s ever been able to say. You don’t cry when she tells you. Partly because you don’t understand and partly because you think that it’s not the world that needs to be watered back to life. You slip back into soft covers well into the early morning. You don’t fall back asleep. Instead, you stare at the dull ceiling and wish for another world. There’s a voice echoing inside your head, saying the same sentence over and over again.
Your father is dead. He died in a car accident.
You’ve never been more scared of anything than the unknown. But right here - swaddled beneath your bedsheets, wishing on silent stars, planning an imaginary trip to mars - you can’t help but think that maybe it’s not the unknown that’s so scary.
Maybe it’s knowing that your father is dead and not being able to do anything about it.
—
You enter into your car in the morning of early April.
You’ve always enjoyed the mornings; hearing the birds croon in song, feeling the crisp, dawning air against your skin, imagining that for one moment - just one moment - you’re completely alone in the world.
You rub your hands against your thigh, before finally adjusting your mirrors and taking off onto the silent and empty road. There are flowers starting to bloom under the grassy patches of the road verge, and you can’t help but smile at the sight. You always did love how warm and new the season of spring was.
You absentmindedly play with the dial of the radio, searching for a song that will soothe you and keep you awake at the same time. You think that maybe one of these days you should call in to complain about the lack of choice in playlists, but deep down you know you won’t. It’s too much of a hassle. You sigh to yourself quietly, turning your attention back to the road. But as you start to move your hand back to the wheel, you realize that your watch has gotten stuck on the radio dial. You try to tug it free to no avail and soon you’re forced to let go of the wheel entirely (it will be later when you realize that that was your first mistake). As you finally tug free, you notice a flashing light in the corner of your eye. And then, finally, merciful darkness.
(But what you don’t say - not even when your mother comes in to visit you with tears in her eyes and fists clenched tightly - is that it was in those blinking lights that you were flashed back in time to a night of soft covers and silent footsteps and realizing that your mother is as human as you are and blinking stars that remain awake even when everything goes dark.)
It's when you wake up that you realize something's wrong. For one thing, you’re not in pain, not really. You try to wiggle yourself free but there are hands that are holding you down. As your eyes start to adjust, you start to realize that you can’t feel your toes. You start to hyperventilate, recognizing this cruel truth for what it was. You’ve watched enough movies to know how this goes.
There’s someone whispering words into your ear but you can’t hear them. Instead, you look down at your body and realize that your leg is missing from your knee onwards. There’s no blood, no bones, and that’s not even the freaky part.
It’s the fact that you're made up of mechanical components.
Your eyes move away from your silver body for a second to make contact with the person who was holding you down and whispering sweet nothings in your ears.
“It’s the only way we could save you,” she says softly. “You would have bled out and died if we didn’t.”
She looks familiar - like a knock at the door, pleading for you to open up, to realize just who it is you’re looking at.
“Who are you?” You ask instead.
She smiles at you gently, as if she knew what you were thinking. As if she knew just what you wanted to ask.
“Many years ago,” she says. “I realized something cruel about this world. And I wanted to change that - wanted to somehow make sure that no matter what happens, I could have this one thing. Change this one thing,” she looks at you with knowing eyes. “Because the worst feeling in the world is knowing that you could have saved someone but didn’t.”
It’s then that you see her mechanical body.
Oh, you think.
Oh.
—
I didn’t edit this, so sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes or punctuation errors!
If you enjoyed reading, feel free to check out some of my other writing on /r/itrytowrite
| 2020-12-17T09:31:29 | 2020-12-17T09:17:07 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town.
|
An Ounce of Prevention
“They’re here, Sir”. Cybersquire knelt before me in the showy manner he always used to ham it up for the heroes. I sat on my throne as usual, but my normal cool confidence did little to ease the ice in my veins at his words.
“All three of them?” I asked, hoping against hope that perhaps only one of those wretched creatures would show his face in my city. I knew the answer before Cybersquire could get it out.
“All three, Sir. Ash-Rake, Virulent Son, and Rampager.” The fear in his voice shone through as he answered my question. “The drones spotted them on the outskirts, so it’s only a matter of time”
I leaned back into my chair as deeply as I could and thought back. For the past twenty years I had lived as this cities greatest villain. Everyone knew the name ‘Clockwork Conquest’ and every hero had cut their teeth facing him in one of his grand schemes. Little did they know that I was preparing them for this very moment.
The Cog-Rat Plague taught them to protect against biological threats and dangerous air quality that accompanied the combo of Virulent Son and Ash-Rake. Knight’s Eternal Night forced them to work in the low visibility conditions that Ash-Rake brought with him, and my trusty sword protected them from the slashing attacks his monsters would bring. And all of those battles against my building sized Clockwork Champions had hopefully prepared them for the sheer strength and brutality of Rampager.
I had, for my entire tenure, trained them for this exact scenario. They had no clue, and they’d likely never realize that I was their greatest mentor and ally this whole time.
I was snapped out of my memories by Cybersquire’s words. “The warnings have all been sent out. What do we do now, Sir?”
I stood from my throne, unsheathing my sword as I did and held it to catch the light. “Now? Now we buy them time to prepare.”
|
I have always had powers, a part of me I kept hidden, never knowing how to use them, afraid of the responsibility that came with them. My friend died when I was twenty-five, it turned out he wasn't afraid of responsibility, he had been doing something. A real life hero. I felt so much shame, I had watched the footage and the worst thing was, there was a way out, he didn't have to die. So I decided I would help, in my own wayz my power doesn't make me very good at saving people, but it does have certain advantages. I can walk through walls and lets things pass right through me, and I can take with me anything I'm touching. I had been such a coward with it when I was younger, I used to be afraid I would fall through the earth until I realised it couldn't go through floors. So, I turned into a regular Robin Hood, stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, and putting the heroes through their paces, occasionally giving them "begrudging" help when they need it. This world needs heroes, it needs people you can look up to. Since then, no heroes have died in my city, I don't take all the credit but I'm just happy that I'm finally making a difference. Well, I was until he showed up.
The hero killer, the man who had "cleansed" the next city over of all its heroes. The newspapers have taken to calling him "Cape Collector". And tonight, I will meet him and finally out a stop to him, luckily I have bugged the costumes of just about every hero in this city so finding him shouldn't be the problem... Winning, may prove to be one.
I waited nervously in the room beside while they got the witty banter out of the way. I tried to control my breathing but sweat was building at the brow. Neither knew I was there yet, and I was trying to keep it that way. They had met in a lab, presumably where the hero worked given how much time he spent here according to the trackers. The room was steel and clinical, glassware broke up the monotony in controlled bursts of uniformity as they were tucked away on shelves. I walked back over to beside the metal shelving that was locked up tightly and peeked my head through the wall until I could see through to the other side. The Cape Collector was a large man, muscles bulged ferociously, his body shook as he talked and the ground trembled as if in fair. A dark black vest clung to his muscular body, as if the dark material was trying to contain something even worse. He was bald and a dark beard sprang wildly from his face. The hero on the other hand looked very composed. My heart skipped a beat, I now recognized her to be Val-Lore. A large, brown cloak obscured her body, the edges trimmed with a dark green and her Valkeryi crest was emblazoned on it in a beautiful light gold colour. Her bright blue eyes shone through her face mask unwavering even in the face of this mighty brute. I also saw her legs were shaking.
For years now, I had fought against her, "losing", time and again, and every time enjoying the witty banter. She was nice and after the occasional team up missions we had talked a lot.
Tonight courage had abandoned me, he was terrifying, there was still blood on his hands, the blood of people who were stronger and better than me. I promised myself that tonight, if we won. I would come clean, tell her everything and ask her to marry me. I needed something to get me through this.
Finally the Cape Collector started making his way towards and I got into position. I could hear his steps, the metal groaning underneath his weight as he walked along the platform. I imagined Val-Lore facing him down as he came towards her, ready to fight to the death as she had countless times before. I imagined her fighting him, tearing chunks out of him as he squeezed the air from her body until blood seeped out along with it and then him throwing her over the side. I imagined the man I wanted to be.
I ran forward and hit into the metal press with all my force, luckily it was very top heavy and while I had a grip of it, I went permeable along with the press, it fell through the other side hitting into him and knocking him off balance as I released my power, I quickly jumped down. A swinging hand came towards me as I landed giving off steam, however honed instincts and terror reactivated my power mid flight and it flew straight through my. I willed myself solid again and grabbed onto his hand that had just gone by me and let myself be carried by his momentum until I reached the edge of the railings. I linked my legs around it and used it along with him being thrown of balance to try and pull him over the side. I saw him reach for the banister and knew what I had to do. I went permeable.
I figured the fall wouldn't kill him, but, he wouldn't exactly be okay after a steel press fell on him, and then falling four stories. Valk-Lore will beat him. And hey, maybe a girl will finally cry over for me at once! Who am I kidding, at the very least, I can finally say I led a good life, and I will finally meet my friend again. That was all I had time for as I fell to my death.
The Cape Collector clearly had very different thoughts going through his head, as steam started shooting out him which quickly condensed into a pool of water catching both of us before we fall, although still knocking the air out of my lungs. It looked like my job wasn't quite over yet.
~The End~
And and all feed back is appreciated :)
| 2021-05-20T08:01:46 | 2021-05-20T06:34:48 | 225 | 81 |
[WP] You live your life on repeat. You die, you’re reborn, in a perpetual loop. You’ve lived thousands of years. Some as a saint, helping others. Some as a monster, reducing the planet to nuclear ashes. After your last death, a voice fills your head. “You’re not getting it. How can you be so dense!”
|
"I'm guessing I'm supposed to fall in love." I sighed, Looks like the entity that had been manipulating me for the last millennia had finally decided to officially introduce himself to me.
"I can't bel- Wait- YES! That's it! Your one true lo-"
"I'm going to stop you right there. I take it you're the red headed man in the pale blue jacket?"
"I- What? How? You noticed me?"
"Well when you get to be my age you start to pick up on some things." I responded. "Amidst a universe that continually fought to flow back to the status quo you kept showing up. Same age, different times and places, always watching trying to nudge me a certain way. Subtle at first, a dropped handkerchief, a missed bus. I gotta say you've been getting sloppy lately. A free trip to Paris where my single room was mysteriously swapped with a couples suite?"
"Well I really thought you weren't getting it..." I could feel the voice's frustrations turn to utter bewilderment. "So do you know why I'm here?"
"I've made a guess. You're a time traveller of some sort and you've messed up. You need me to do something... or someone to fix it. So you keep sending me back. Though I've been to Paris dozens of times, and burnt it to the ground twice. What made you think that would entice me?"
"Well I can't watch your entire lifetime every cycle." the voice explained, "I only show up for a few days at a time, and I'd really like to get back to my own timeline so...could you-"
"No. Not yet." I said, "I've seen the other side, every time I die, for just a few seconds. I know what it's like to no longer know what anything is like. I don't want that. Not yet. Not forever. There's so much left for me to see, for me to be. Once I've done everything that no one has done, then and only then will I do the one thing everyone's done... I'll fuck your mother"
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# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 5, Interlude 1: The Sunrise King)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**People told him he rose and set with the sun.** He found that amusing for reasons he'd never share. He woke up early, yes—he may have been immortal, but there was still only so much time in the day. But his connection to the sun ran deeper than that. Whenever he died, he was reborn the next day at the crack of dawn. And he'd had ample time to test this. That crucifixion in Roma, the Weeping Plague in Spain, the nuclear war in the Middle Communes... he'd died a thousand deaths. He'd been peasant and lord, prince and pauper, child and sage. There was very, very little in this world that still escaped him.
Except for that *damn voice*.
*What're you calling yourself this time? The Sunrise King?* The voice in his head rang as he walked through the Coruscating Palace. Sunbeams, bound and channeled by mirrors into delicate lines of light, shimmered in the air as he walked. Servants, bound by life-debts, waited hand and foot on his every whim.
And yet the voice still scoffed. *Pathetic. Another lifetime wasted.*
Outwardly, the Sunrise King gave no indication that he was upset—he'd trained under the greatest playwrights and actors of the sixteenth century just to get rid of the *twitching* that used to occur whenever the voices got too loud. Ol' Vibrating Sword would've been proud of him. Shame he died.
*Your shame, specifically. You could have done better. Anyone else with the gifts that you have would have taken humanity to the stars a millennium ago.*
The Sunrise King resisted the urge to drive his hands into his skull and tear the damn voices out of his brain. He'd tried that, once or twice. Never worked, and it hurt like hell. Instead, he turned a right, between two pillars of reflected light, and entered his private chambers. The heavy, soundproofed door swung shut behind him with a *thud*.
Finally, he could drop the charade.
*You're a failure.*
"I'm *not* a failure," the Sunrise King muttered. His opulent robes, a relic of history that he himself had rescued from the ruins of the Middle Communes, swirled around him as he placed his forehead against the wall. "I saved the White Isles from collapsing entirely. I ventured into the Wilderwilds and returned with medicines that saved *millions*. I wrote the *I'Chu* texts, poems so beautiful they've stopped wars."
That little voice in his head laughed. *You're not getting it. How can you be so dense! It doesn't matter how many people you've saved. It matters how many you've failed.*
The Sunrise King clenched his fists, strength gained from a hundred hardened lifetimes dragging splinters from his dresser. "Don't you dare. Don't you *fucking* dare."
*Marcroft. Desmethylway. The Middle Communes. You* tried, *I'll give you that. You were there for those cataclysms. But all that trying ever did was end in failure. Those people, those civilizations—they're gone. You're the last one who remembers them. What's the point, if everything you do ends up in dust? What's the point in being born anew if every life is as empty as the last? You should just close your eyes and never wake up and—*
*"ENOUGH!"* The Sunrise King slammed his head against the wall, denting it and sending dust showering down from the ceiling.
It was one of dozens of similar dents along the opulent walls of the Coruscating Palace.
For centuries, the Sunrise King thought he was being haunted by a specter, some alien force, some foreign voice intruding in his thoughts. But at the turn of the century, when psychology and therapy had finally coalesced into their modern forms, he finally had to face the truth.
The voice in his head was nothing supernatural.
It was simply his own insecurities.
A civilization's worth of failures weighing down on him.
The Sunrise King clenched his jaw.
"Enough," he repeated. "This time is different. *This* time, I'm building something that will last."
*You said that about the Middle Communes. And now it's nothing but ash and shadow.*
"Let it be." He stood, robes rippling around him. "I am the Sunrise King. Ash is my birthright, and shadow is my legacy."
Those insecurities hadn't kept him idle, all these centuries. He'd been planning. Making connections. Preparing a work so great that it would finally, *finally* quiet the screams of everyone he'd failed to save.
"I have created stability in the Sunrise Kingdom. A society where nothing is wasted." The Sunrise King narrowed his eyes, staring out the window at the distant ocean and the countries beyond. "Today is the day I share that stability with the world."
Strangling the voices that said *it'll never be enough*, the Sunrise King left to order his armies into flight.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.
| 2022-02-09T20:14:27 | 2022-02-09T18:16:10 | 2,163 | 186 |
[WP] A small town deep in the forest has a town dragon. Yep. His name’s Darryl, and he’s actually a really nice dude! He even married the mayor’s daughter with the mayor’s consent! However, a group of travelers not accustomed to giant beasts dropping by for groceries has just stopped in town. Uh-oh…
|
"Can you smell that, Tarquin?" Julia gestures around the town square as she closes her car door. "It smells like adventure. My nose pricks up at the scent."
Tarquin rolls himself out of the driver's side and ambles around to join her. "Your nose looks the same to me. But then, Ma'am, I'm no expert on pricks like you are."
A fierce stare from Julia silences him. He turns to take their bags from the trunk while Julia straps on her sword. After getting it settled into the most attractive angle, she looks into the side view mirror to adjust her large brimmed hat and holds out a hand to Tarquin. He opens a long hard-sided case from the back of the car and hands her a peacock feather, which she carefully sticks into her hat. "Alright, let's check out that store. The locals are staring."
She strides off towards the storefront, labeled in faded paint as "Beakman's General, Sundries, and Post Office". A small group of men were loitering outside drinking. Tarquin shoulders an axe and follows at her heels, waddling slightly as he adjusts his chainmail.
Julia uses the railing in front of the store to strike pose number three: left hand on hip, right hand posed to hold her chin thoughtfully or point as needed, head tilted up and to the side so that the peacock feather streams across her shoulder. "Greetings, townsfolk. I am Julia Hernandez D'Oro the Heartrender. I sense great adventure in this town. Pray, tell me what ails you. Be it dark evil or mighty beast, I shall vanquish it."
One of the men in front of the store sets down his mug and picks up a quarterstaff from a row leaning against the wall. "We don't need your kind here. Bloodsucking treasure hunters. Why don't you just move along?"
"I can assure you my desired remunerations are quite reasonable." She leans casually back into pose number six: hand brushing against the hilt of her sword, head turned to survey the scene out of the corner of her eyes. "Pray, tell me what beast caused these gashes in this stone here."
The rest of the men put down their mugs and pick up staves. "Those are Beakman's old pickup. The muffler drags."
"It doesn't smell like a truck. The scent is quite distinctive." Julia starts to trace the gashes with her foot, while giving Tarquin a sign with her hand that he should try to look menacing, a job he typically fails at.
"I said, why don't you just—"
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE." The voice booms from the town square. Julia and Tarquin spin to face it. The glowing eyes draw their attention. Tarquin stands transfixed while Julia shrugs off the enchantment to take in the rest of the creature: a swirling mass of claws and iridescent green scales.
Julia draws her sword and swats at Tarquin to ready his axe. "Your enchantments won't fool me, Draco!"
"That's an offensive stereotype." The voice comes from the townsman behind her. "You can't just assume that all dragons are named 'Draco'. We call him Darryl."
"HE'S RIGHT. WE AREN'T ALL NAMED DRACO." The dragon coughs and continues in a quieter tone. "Sorry. I mean, technically my name does happen to be Draco, but you couldn't have known that. Most humans can't pronounce it so they just call me Darryl."
The swirling scales settle down and the eyes cease their glowing. Tarquin lowers his axe. "They can't pronounce 'Draco'?"
"No, Draco is my cousin. I'm Draco. It's a subtle difference in the 'r'. That's why we usually go with Darryl."
Julia stares at Tarquin. "If you are done discussing Dragolinguistics, Tarquin, please ready your axe. This foul beast shall torment these townsfolk no longer." She turns back to the dragon. "We shall slay you... Darryl. And the townsfolk shall happily remunerate us with a very reasonable fee on top of whatever we find in your treasure hoard."
Julia gestures at the assembled men behind her only to realize they have moved. They now form a line between her and the dragon.
"We shall not let you harm Darryl. He's married to the mayor's daughter and an upstanding member of the community. We don't take kindly to your type here, so you need to get."
Julia takes a look at the stout quarterstaves and leans towards Tarquin, whispering out of the corner of her mouth. "Go start the car." She hears the engine turn over as she is speaking turns to realize that Tarquin has anticipated her wise decision.
She walks backwards to the car. "You'd best never come to my town, Draco."
A stream of fire burns her peacock feather to a crisp.
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
\[And feel free to ask me questions in this week's [Spotlight](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ubkpmr/ot_writers_spotlight_c_avery_m/)!\]
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The van backfired upon entering the parking lot of Albert's Serve-U, and a few people turned to look. It was an older blue Dodge A-100 with a white stripe running the length of the body and wrapping around the front and back. It had a pop up camper top. If you were close enough, you could get a whiff of pot smoke, dirty hippy, and moldy carpet.
"Tourists," muttered old Sam as he spat tobacco juice onto the asphalt. "'Tis the season."
Just then another rig entered the parking lot of the grocery store. It was an F100 towing a long white horse trailer, which looked pretty ordinary for a place like this. Only, there were no horses inside.
The side door of the van slid open and young woman with dark sunglasses, long brown hair and cut off jean shorts hopped out. She was followed by another woman, red-headed and wearing a striped tube top with bell bottom jeans and flip-flops. Two men got out of the cab. One was tall and lanky, wearing a red bandana in his wild mop of dirty blond hair. The other was stout and wore a muscle shirt and had a bushy reddish beard.
"Becky, get me smokes, OK?" said the man with the bandana,"I'm going to use the pay phone while you're in there."
"OK, Steve," replied the brown haired woman. She watched him walk over to the phone booth on the western edge of the lot.
"Who is he calling?" Asked the red haired woman.
"Probably his cousin, Jack. He lives around here somewhere and sells weed," Becky replied.
"Dan, do you have any bug spray? Or should I buy some?" The red haired woman asked.
"Better buy some, Cheryl. The skeeters are pretty bad up at the lake." Replied the man called Dan.
As the trio neared the store entrance, a pretty blond woman hopped out of the F100 and went to the back of the horse trailer. The three thought nothing of it and walked past. Steve; however, as he listened to the ringing phone line, happened to glance in their direction and he watched as an enormous, green scaled monster came out of the horse trailer.
It was a dragon. A mother fucking real as fuck dragon, maybe. Steve had done a lot of acid in his day, and he knew about flash backs, but if this was one, it seemed extra vivid, and nothing else was amiss in his surroundings. No one else seemed to care in the slightest. He stood there in the hot phone booth holding the phone and listening as his cousin's line rang again and again. He looked at his hand to see if it looked like he was tripping.
The gigantic creature put a winged arm around the blond woman and they looked lovingly at each other as they proceeded to walk into the store.
"Fuckin' A." Steve whispered to himself and hung up the pay phone.
Becky, Cheryl and Dan walked obliviously in front of the couple.
The store teemed with shoppers, locals and those passing through. It had a sizeable camping gear selection in addition to groceries, and Becky stopped to check out the hot dog grilling cages while Cheryl searched for the mosquito repellent. They saw it at the same time.
The dragon stood, both sets of front claws wrapped around the shopping cart handle, as the blond beauty smiled up at it and asked if it minded Sanka or wanted the more expensive Folgers Decaf.
Cheryl grabbed onto Dan's arm and gasped. Dan turned to look, and said "Holy shit. what is that?"
"Excuse me!" Cried the blond woman "'That' is my husband and I'll thank you to keep your rude comments to yourself." She glared at the three of them, and the dragon hung his head slightly.
"Come on Debbie, it's OK. They're not from around here, they don't know." The dragon's voice was barely more than a whisper.
"No!" Debbie yelled. "I'm so sick of this shit. Everywhere we go, there's some uneducated asshole who has to act like you're some kind of freak in a sideshow. I'm not putting up with it any longer. I demand an apology."
"What the-" Dan began.
"Apologize!" Demanded Debbie. It was quiet all around them, and people stood watching the confrontation.
'W- we didn't mean to be rude, it's just that we've never seen a dragon in real life before." Becky stammered.
"Well, you were rude, and he may be a dragon, but he's got feelings like you and me. He came down from the mountains and he worked his ass off at the shake mill and built our cabin all by himself after work every day and all day every weekend. He gave up his horde of gold to build this town a water treatment plant. He served his country in Vietnam. He spent years overcoming the prejudice people had against him and he convinced my daddy, the Mayor of this town, that he would be a good husband and father. My Darryl deserves as much or more respect as any of you, and I demand an apology!" Debbie's eyes were filled with tears.
Just then, Steve came running in and stopped short at the edge of the gathering crowd.
"Am I crazy or is there really a fucking dragon standing here in the middle of-" Steve started to excitedly query.
"Just great!" Screamed Debbie, "Another goddamned hippy that sees my husband and totally forgets all of his hippy love shit and treats us like freaks!" She now glared in Steve's direction.
"What-"Steve started again, and again, Debbie cut him off.
"My husband, Darryl the dragon, is more man than you will ever be. He gives to this community! He works hard and he cares. All you do is stink and judge!" Debbie's anger was bubbling over.
"Debbie, honey, I'd like to say something." Darryl put his clawed hand on her shoulder.
"This woman loves me something fierce, as you can see. I love her more than life itself. We just came to get groceries like everyone else here. We don't want any trouble. My wife is tired of having people act like it's such a big deal, and frankly, so am I. But I want you to know something about dragons. We've been around a very long time, and we've had plenty of opportunity to think about things. " Darryl paused a moment and cleared his throat.
He continued,"In the old days, people were terrified and greedy. They hunted us relentlessly and killed indiscriminately, taking our gold. They didn't bother distinguishing good dragons from bad. They didn't listen when we tried to negotiate peace. Until now. Like Debbie said, I came down from the Cascades and when I saw that people here, surrounded by water, had a dilapidated treatment facility and dirty drinking water they had to boil, I paid every cent I had to replace the system. I did two tours in Vietnam, and got spit on for my troubles. I came back, thinking I would go back into the mountains and mine gold again, but then I saw Debbie. So I stayed here, and I got a job and worked hard, and did all I could to convince her and her father that my love is real and I am a good dragon." He looked around at the faces of the people around them.
"I have had to work twice as hard as any of you just to exist in this place and not be murdered by fearful people." Darryl said. "If I wanted to, I could burn this whole town down with my breath. I could have killed all of you, but I choose not to. That ought to count for something. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'd like to get our groceries home and put away in time for the Billy Jack movie that's playing at the theater tonight."
"Hey man," Dan said in earnest. "We're really sorry. Can you forgive us?"
"Yes. I can. And Debbie can too." Said Darryl.
"I fuckin' love Billy Jack." Steve grinned, and Debbie smiled at him through her tears.
"Billy Jack is his idol." She gave a short laugh. "I'm sure you understand why."
"We're going to be up at the campground at Baker, a place called Horse Shoe Cove, if you two want to stop by for a drink later." Cheryl said tentatively.
And with that, the crowd began to disperse and everyone bought their groceries.
The next day was Saturday and Darryl and Debbie showed up at the camp site with a case of Olympia and a package of hot dogs. Darryl was happy to show how he could roast them to perfection and also that he could fly while holding a tow rope for them to water ski behind him. Debbie played her guitar and sang. They all got very stoned and had a great time.
That's how they all met, and a friendship of many decades began.
​
Edit: forgot his name is Darryl
| 2022-04-25T09:34:05 | 2022-04-25T09:27:13 | 143 | 61 |
[WP] You are a warlock who has formed a pact with a powerful demon. The times that you summon your demon are the only solace they receive from a long and brutal war that rages within their home plane.
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I was a warlock, and I had formed a pact with a powerful demon. The times that I summoned them were the only solace they received from the long and brutal war that raged within their home dimension. At least, that's what I told myself as I stood in the grocery store, trying to summon the demon to help me carry my groceries home.
"Come on, demon," I muttered under my breath as I tried to focus my energy. "I know you're tired of being stuck in that dimension, so come on out and give me a hand."
But as I stood there, surrounded by confused shoppers, the demon failed to appear. I sighed, hefting my heavy bags of groceries and trudging out of the store.
As I made my way home, I couldn't help but feel a little ridiculous. Here I was, a powerful warlock, and I couldn't even summon a demon to carry my groceries.
But as I stumbled up the steps to my apartment, my door suddenly burst open.
"What took you so long?" the demon demanded, standing in my doorway with a grocery bag in each hand. "I've been waiting for you for hours."
I stared at the demon in disbelief. "You were supposed to help me carry my groceries!" I exclaimed.
The demon shrugged. "I figured you were just summoning me for fun. You know, to give me a break from the war and all."
I couldn't help but laugh as I followed the demon inside. Maybe summoning them for mundane tasks wasn't exactly what I had signed up for when I made the pact, but it was nice to have a little help every now and then. And who knows, maybe the demon was enjoying the break from the war a little more than they let on.
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It had been the talk of the whole continent for a few weeks then, a resounding no from the magic-wielding community: The Cult of Technology, a group of non-magical people, had made a buzz of a new future, a future without magic, a future where no magic is needed to combat the wild unpredictable nature of the supernatural.
In the courtyard of The Citadel a crowd had gathered, of warlocks, witches, and non-magical people alike. Protests were voiced, but the Citadel was a place of free thinkers, where knowledge was sacred and protected.
Argyle pushed pass through the crowd, it seemed like the whole city was packed in between the white walls of The Citadel, all the way to its massive front gate. He had heard, of course, of The Cult. Of their claim that they invented a way to combat magic without having to learn magic.
"Preposterous!", he thought.
Being a lifelong student of magic, Argyle had studied it for decades. Even achieving the level of a warlock and integrating with his own demon-- a powerful arch-demon named Roth. The idea of the end of magic was beyond his comprehension, and he was there to see for himself the spectacle of the supposed future.
"Ladies and gentlemen, bear witness to the next step of our world!", shouted the man in white coat, the leader of The Cult.
As most of the crowd booed, Argyle finally reached the front of the crowd. In the middle of the courtyard stood members of The Cult, all dressed in white coats, surrounding a massive device made of metal resembling a cannon.
"Long has this world depended on magic as means of warfare! Long have us, those who are unfortunate enough to be excluded from the world of magic! But no more! We can fight now!", shouted the leader.
"Behold! My invention: The Mana Cannon!", the leader presented the giant device behind him. "Yes, what you've heard is true! We managed to harness magic in its purest form and strip it away from a human vessel and combined it technology! This is a marvel of both nature and human capabilities, ladies and gentlemen!"
As most of the crowd booed even louder, the leader signaled his followers to proceed with the demonstration. A whirring sound came from the cannon as it powered up. Beams ran through its sleek metallic body, what the crowd could sense was a powerful amount of magic, charging inside the device.
Argyle couldn't help but felt curious. Never had he faced such amount of magic before, not from a single weapon at least.
His attention then shifted to the followers of The Cult as they wheeled in a few large cages. His heart dropped seeing what's caged inside: demons.
"We will demonstrate the power of this weapon, ladies and gentlemen! With the help of our test subjects!", the leader smirked.
Argyle felt sickened by the sight of it. Despite being a nuisance to humans, Argyle couldn't help but sympathized with those imprisoned demons, as his closest ally was one of them. His stance was controversial in its own way, but it was always accepted as fighting fire with fire.
"Ready the cannon! Wait for my signal!", ordered the leader as the caged demons were lined up right in front of the cannon.
Argyle's heart ran fast, not wanting to see the intentional massacre. But to the worry of the crowd, something happened to the demons.
Somehow, they went berserk. Wildly they thrashed around, biting and scratching the cage bars even if it mangled their teeth and claws.
The crowd went wild in shock as suddenly the demons broke free out of their cages and attacked the cult members, strangely even they latched onto the cannon and started biting it.
It was chaos then as the crowd ran away in panic, so were the cult members including the frightened leader.
Some of the braver witches and warlocks who had faced the frontline of war charged to defend The Citadel of the demons, including Argyle.
Quickly he chanted his summoning spell, invoking the pact he made with the dark forces. "To this plane I summon you, Roth the Foul, and do my bidding!"
A magical circle was formed out of Argyle's magic, and from it emerged a demon. One of the most powerful in his realm, the arch-demon roared loudly.
"Sorry to summon you in such inconvenient time, Roth. But we have some unruly demons loose within The Citadel", informed Argyle. "Now, Roth, attack!"
But Roth stayed still, much to Argyle's confusion.
"Roth? What are you...?"
As Argyle looked back to his demon, he was shocked as Roth was growling in wrath. His eyes were red, like those demons running rampant in front of them.
"Roth! Stand yourself! No!", Argyle shouted to his demon, grabbing his legs before he flew towards the cult members, but the demon was too powerful, and Argyle was dragged along.
Much to Argyle's horror, Roth began to attack the cult members before turning his attention to the cannon-- scratching and biting it though the metallic body was way too sturdy.
Huffing, Argyle quickly chanted his reverse summoning chant to send Roth back to his realm.
"Back to the fire I command you!", he shouted.
A magical circle once again was formed, swallowing Roth and by accident, Argyle as he was clinging to the demon.
The world swirled around him, and Argyle finally dropped onto hard ground.
| 2022-12-18T02:41:19 | 2022-12-18T02:39:55 | 46 | 31 |
[WP] Frighten me without using any blood, gore or explicit violence.
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I woke up groggily. I looked at the clock on the wall. 5:30 AM.
"What's the matter, Hon?"
Ann's form silhouetted against the moon light. As she finished her phone call, our wedding ring glistened and shown brightly. "It's my mom. She says she's passing nearby, and will arrive in 10 minutes to visit."
|
"I walked out of the elevator on the fourth floor. It wasn't very busy but I distinctly remember a man pushing an empty wheelchair stepping out behind me. We were going in the same direction, so he pretty much followed me for a few seconds."
I stopped to catch my breath. I was panting.
"The crappy lighting on the ceiling blinked, and I think I blinked at the same time too, or something, because it looked like stuff kind of *shifted* around me. Just a little."
She pulled on her sleeves, trying to get them to cover her hands. Even in the freezing cold I felt too hot. My body felt like a steam engine.
"I don't see where you're going with this. Can we talk about this in the car? It's night."
I kept panting for a few seconds and looked around. It was actually night.
"Shit, I thought the Sun wouldn't set until another couple hours. Didn't notice it was dark already."
"Are you coming?"
"No!"
She looked at me weird.
"Not yet, I have to say it all first. If I forget any and start rationalising I'll never tell anyone."
She offered no answer, merely looking annoyed instead. I decided to work with that.
"So, the corridor *blinked* around me. Don't look at me like that. It gets worse, too. I looked behind me and the wheelchair and guy both were *gone*."
"Stepped into a room?"
"Nope. No way. I actually considered it, and when I looked quickly at the doors, I saw the numbers were wrong."
I didn't like the look on her face. "Wrong how?" Her breath showed in the air.
"Wrong hundred. The doors are numbered based on the floor, and those were in the six-hundreds. I got out on the *fourth* floor, Lise. I know I did, and *don't look at me like that*!"
She backed off, just a step. The gesture still hurt.
"No need to get angry, Joel! I'm just saying, ending up on the wrong floor is something we've all done."
She must have thought I was crazy. *Shaken*, yeah, but I wasn't crazy.
"I have absolutely no doubt, *absolutely none*, that I did not go to the sixth floor myself. Something took me there, I just don't know how."
With the way she was staring right then, I decided I had to let it all out already.
"I had a long look around me. Nobody to see, and no sound either. Absolutely nothing. After ten or fifteen seconds, I think, the lights blinked out, very suddenly."
I caught my breath again.
"I swear it, Lise, I swear it to everything you want. I stepped forward in the same instant the lights went out, in this *empty* corridor, and I bumped into someone."
Talking about it felt good, it provided a relief. I had started crying from the stress leaving my system or something.
"I screamed, and I ran in the opposite direction. I kind of rememberd where the stairs were and I ran through the door and then kept going down until I was at street level, and then I kept running and I ran into you and *what the Hell happened Lise?*"
She had no answer for me. She wasn't even looking at me. I followed where her eyes were focused, on the hospital behind me: where I'd only just ran from.
I heard her start to mutter something but couldn't make out the words: I was too busy counting the floors. One, two, three, four, five, and then came the only level that only showed darkness though its windows. The rest of the tall building was lit up.
I wiped my face with my hands to clear the tears. She would believe me then, she'd have to.
I turned to face her again and she was gone.
I was in the wrong street, some narrow alley, not where I'd been standing the previous moment. Looking around, there was nobody to see, no sound to hear. In front of me was a dead end, and the only light source died. I stepped back and bumped into someone.
| 2014-11-18T11:22:43 | 2014-11-18T10:38:23 | 110 | 29 |
[WP] Frighten me without using any blood, gore or explicit violence.
|
The crowd was the largest ever to attend an such an event. Nearly everyone across the globe could not take their eyes away from their screens. The unthinkable had happened.
"Ladies and Gentleman, it is my honor and great privilege to introduce, the First First Lady of the White House, your new President of the United States, Sarah Palin!"
The world collectively swallowed.
|
"I walked out of the elevator on the fourth floor. It wasn't very busy but I distinctly remember a man pushing an empty wheelchair stepping out behind me. We were going in the same direction, so he pretty much followed me for a few seconds."
I stopped to catch my breath. I was panting.
"The crappy lighting on the ceiling blinked, and I think I blinked at the same time too, or something, because it looked like stuff kind of *shifted* around me. Just a little."
She pulled on her sleeves, trying to get them to cover her hands. Even in the freezing cold I felt too hot. My body felt like a steam engine.
"I don't see where you're going with this. Can we talk about this in the car? It's night."
I kept panting for a few seconds and looked around. It was actually night.
"Shit, I thought the Sun wouldn't set until another couple hours. Didn't notice it was dark already."
"Are you coming?"
"No!"
She looked at me weird.
"Not yet, I have to say it all first. If I forget any and start rationalising I'll never tell anyone."
She offered no answer, merely looking annoyed instead. I decided to work with that.
"So, the corridor *blinked* around me. Don't look at me like that. It gets worse, too. I looked behind me and the wheelchair and guy both were *gone*."
"Stepped into a room?"
"Nope. No way. I actually considered it, and when I looked quickly at the doors, I saw the numbers were wrong."
I didn't like the look on her face. "Wrong how?" Her breath showed in the air.
"Wrong hundred. The doors are numbered based on the floor, and those were in the six-hundreds. I got out on the *fourth* floor, Lise. I know I did, and *don't look at me like that*!"
She backed off, just a step. The gesture still hurt.
"No need to get angry, Joel! I'm just saying, ending up on the wrong floor is something we've all done."
She must have thought I was crazy. *Shaken*, yeah, but I wasn't crazy.
"I have absolutely no doubt, *absolutely none*, that I did not go to the sixth floor myself. Something took me there, I just don't know how."
With the way she was staring right then, I decided I had to let it all out already.
"I had a long look around me. Nobody to see, and no sound either. Absolutely nothing. After ten or fifteen seconds, I think, the lights blinked out, very suddenly."
I caught my breath again.
"I swear it, Lise, I swear it to everything you want. I stepped forward in the same instant the lights went out, in this *empty* corridor, and I bumped into someone."
Talking about it felt good, it provided a relief. I had started crying from the stress leaving my system or something.
"I screamed, and I ran in the opposite direction. I kind of rememberd where the stairs were and I ran through the door and then kept going down until I was at street level, and then I kept running and I ran into you and *what the Hell happened Lise?*"
She had no answer for me. She wasn't even looking at me. I followed where her eyes were focused, on the hospital behind me: where I'd only just ran from.
I heard her start to mutter something but couldn't make out the words: I was too busy counting the floors. One, two, three, four, five, and then came the only level that only showed darkness though its windows. The rest of the tall building was lit up.
I wiped my face with my hands to clear the tears. She would believe me then, she'd have to.
I turned to face her again and she was gone.
I was in the wrong street, some narrow alley, not where I'd been standing the previous moment. Looking around, there was nobody to see, no sound to hear. In front of me was a dead end, and the only light source died. I stepped back and bumped into someone.
| 2014-11-18T11:31:11 | 2014-11-18T10:38:23 | 44 | 29 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10.
|
I've spent my whole life looking at numbers, judging my safety from them, gathering intelligence, watching, waiting. I am a perfectly average teenage girl; I've got brown hair, brown eyes, and a rather plain face. I'm average height, average size. There is nothing exceptional about me; except that I can judge how dangerous someone is by a number that appears by their left ear when I see them. Everyday is a blur of numbers. Only occasionally do I see a number higher than 4, which is the average adult. Capable of murder, but probably won't. The highest I'd ever seen was an 8; he was already in police custody for attempting to shoot up his high school. That was, he was the highest until I met Finn. Finn was a ten, the highest rating on the scale. The instant I saw the number I nearly had a heart attack.
From across the room he made eye contact with me, his light blue meeting my muddy brown, and it was like the whole room was buzzing and shaking. He smiled at me, seemingly harmless. And as he walked across the room to me, I felt myself fall hopelessly, irretrievably, irrationally, in love. And it was then that I knew exactly why he was so dangerous; he held the most precious thing a person can give another. He could destroy me if he chose to, he could crush my spirit. He was my soul mate, and he held my heart. That was what the ten was reserved for.
But as our hands touched for the first time, I felt at peace. This was not the man who was destined to destroy me, because as certainly as he held my heart, I held his. That was just how soulmates worked.
|
Snow swirled across the pavement, little lines of furious strands caught in a frozen wind. At once, they would settle, and at once they would fly with renewed flurry as the bus ploughed up to its stop. The ding of the doors opening broke the bluster of winds, and immense gratitude washed over her as this bus proved warm.
"Long day again?" Jerry always asked that question, and the answer was always:
"Yes, but not as long as the weekend," and she would reply with a smile.
"Well bless your heart for being off on a day like this. Haven't seen many luggers today." Jerry laughed, closing the doors as a little, hunched *3* ambled past the two.
She hitched her 'lug' of textbooks up on her shoulder, and gave Jerry a teasing roll of the eyes before sitting down. Her bag thumped on the bench as she sat down, pulling out a novella. A bag this heavy was worth its weight in words, and that was all she could ask for.
Words were, after all, a relief. A change of scenery.
The world was a scattering of numbers. They drifted, floated, and warped with each passing moment. They flickered with each emotion, just as a candle in its last moments of a breath.
Jerry, for instance, had attracted her attention because of his constant *6*. He rarely spoke when she first began semester, but as time wore conversation he became more and more conversational. He was amiable, friendly. Yet, that *6* never flickered. She was curious why, curiosity keeps conversation.
As the bus hurtled through the lanes of snow, and debris of dead landscape, she patiently read her words. A man was on the phone nearby, something must have been wrong at work because his number kept annoyingly jumping, like a dog that wouldn't sit still. The old woman who had boarded with her sat across, absently knitting with some gaudy orange yarn, her *3* like a steady heartbeat.
She chose to focus on the *3*, steadiness helped her get through the words.
It was a whirl of snow, tempered numbers, and words until the ding of arrival.
"University Station!" Jerry called out, and only two souls departed into the blanketed land beyond.
She teetered on the ice, sliding a short ways before finding grip again. The sudden rush of 'ohpleasedon'tfall' distracting her from the fellow soul lost to this insatiable cold.
"Marie? You okay?"
She felt someone catch her by the backpack, but she didn't recognize the voice. Classmate? Turning around, she smiled to say thank you.
He was blank. Nothing.
The sight staggered her, leaving words dead on lips like frost on leaves. She must have looked like a stunned deer, because the young man that steadied her gave a sheepish smile.
"Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like this -- Actually, I meant for this to be a bit different, but, uh, you're hard to catch.." He stammered, offering only that sheepish smile for explanation.
"Who are you?" Marie asked, the shock nullifying any forbearance toward that polite aire.
"Oh!" The young man jumped, ever-so-slightly, his dark hair bouncing. He would be quietly handsome, unassuming, if not for the dark eyes that reflected no sheepish nature.
"It's me! Fred! From second grade!" His words, they bounced. "I didn't expect you to remember me, really. I noticed you in a class last semester, Astronomy 207. I though 'Gee, she looks familiar doesn't she. Out of all these faces'."
Marie continued to stare at him. The blurring of light around them shifted green as the traffic light signalled they could cross the street. Yet, more so, Marie caught sight of another flicker. Just above his right ear, it was meagre, like the sheepishness in his voice, like it had been caught.
"So I looked you up on the class roster. Funny that. Thought I would never see you again." And he smiled again, and it flickered once more.
*10*
It was true, he looked like Fred. That flown dark hair, the bouncing of his voice and words. Still, how? The boy with dirt smudged features, who wore the same clothes everyday, who cried when her mother let him take an ornament from their Christmas tree. *Him? A 10?*
"Oh! You're probably a bit surprised," He laughed. It did not falter, even as Marie became aware of the poorly suppressed terror on her face.
"It's good to see you stayed a *5*. Not too bold, not to bland." Fred wavered his hand as he spoke to her, and that smile kept shrewdly creeping along.
Marie shook her head, and planted herself one boot step firmly forward, but the light changed again. She couldn't cross yet. Dubiously, she stepped past him, closer to the cross walk. She plotted the *eta* path to security in her mind, perhaps this man needed some help.
The young man turned, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stepped next to her on the cross walk. He looked to her, with straightened stance and a bright smile.
"What? You didn't think you were the *only one*, did you?"
| 2014-11-29T14:34:22 | 2014-11-29T14:03:49 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] Two people discover a fountain of youth. The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant. The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement.
|
"No, please."
She pushed the vial away from her lips, her thin and wrinkly hands shaking.
"Why?" I asked.
"I... I'm so tired, dear." She sighed. Then she continued:
"My flesh is tired."
"What do you mean?"
"The other ones, my other lives, I've come to realize... they were not *really* me. I've read their diaries, I've memorized the formula. You raised me and I made you young again. I raised you as though you were my own child. But there is no personal continuity between these versions of us and the ones that came before."
There were tears in her eyes, now.
"This is not immortality. Just a series of deaths. A long line of lives we cannot remember, but I swear I can feel the weight of every loss in my bones."
She put her hand on mine.
"I want to sleep."
"But what about our deal?" I asked. "What about us?"
"You will have to find a new one. It will be easy to find somebody willing, but harder to find someone to trust."
I nodded.
"Now leave me. Please. I will have my peace, at last."
I slowly backed out of the room, and I whispered "good bye" as I closed the door.
Walking down the hallway I returned the vial of cyanide into my pocket. I obviously wouldn't need it for this one. That was a first. She'd almost figured everything out, that stupid old hag. She must've been depressed. Whatever. That made things easier for me. Of course the formula lets you preserve your memories! It would be pointless, otherwise. The only reason my partner couldn't remember her past life was because she hadn't lived one. Neither had the one before her.
I already had the next child prepared. I would raise her as my daughter. Then she would raise me as her son. Then I would kill her. Rinse and repeat. A god doesn't share his throne.
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Finally I had the courage to approach the little boy, who was drawing doodles on a blank piece of paper. He was so focused on his work that he didn't notice me.
"Tommy", I said after a few seconds making up my mind again, "there's something we need to talk about".
"What's the matter aunt Laura?" he answered with a look of curiosity on his eyes. It crushed me every time he called me *aunt*. We had long ago decided that it was the better way to make things work until the one who drank the liquid last had grown up enough to explain him about our never-ending cycle. But lately the word had became too hurtful for me. I coulnd't stand it anymore. And I had to tell him, no matter how hard it was.
I looked at him. He was barely 8 years old. How many times did I see him as an 8 year old? I had lost the count. I couldn't tell him about our findings. I couldn't tell him about the secret we were carrying along. I couldn't tell him that I wasn't his aunt. He wasn't ready. He wasn't mature enough. He wouldn't understand. I couldn't tell him, but I was going to.
"Tommy... Thomas", I corrected myself. "What I'm about to say is awfully hard to understand but it's very important that you pay attention and try to. You are a clever boy. Do it for me, alright?". The look on his eyes didn't change. I stopped myself. There should be a better way to explain. There should be a better way to tell him that I couldn't go on with this lifestyle. How many years have we raised each other? How many times have we taught the other things they had taught us before? Here he was, Thomas, my beloved husband, or so he was centuries ago, looking at me with a picture of a poor-drawn car. Every time we went through the cycle, he would become a magnificient artist and would make incredible portraits for me. Often, *of me*. And whenever I reached the age to have a more romantic relationship with him, he was ready to become young again. And so I was left with a young child, my love unfulfilled and a whole life of unhappiness to raise him. But I did it for him. Because when we found the fountain of youth, and I rushed to try it out, he was the first to take care of me. And my love for him made me take care of him when it was the time. And now it was time to end it.
"Thomas...", I repeated. "There is no easy way to say this. You are very strong, incredibly strong. And you will have to be."
"Why? Need to open a bottle of pickles?"
"No", I laughed. His sense of humour was also remarkable and being 8 didn't stop me from making me laugh from time to time. I burst into tears, not because of the joke, but rather because of all the feelings that were hitting me at that moment.
"You need to lift the car? I can do it!", he answered to my sudden tears, while standing up and lifting his arms in the air, mimicking a superhero.
"No, Thomas. The car is okay where it is. Look, I have important things to do. Adult things. It's going to...", my voice was cracking so I had to stop, "... it's going to take some time. I will be gone for some time, honey."
"Where are you going?", his face clearly showed how upset he was.
"Somewhere far away, I can't tell you now. But you will understand when you get older. I have set everything so old Samantha can take care of you and help you out, but you now she's a bi toot old so you'll mostly have to take care of yourself. It won't be easy but I've tried to sort everything out so you don't have any problems, okay honey?".
I took a deep breath and looked at him. He was about to cry. He knew something was going on and that it wasn't just me going on vacation. But he was too young to figure it out. He was too young to make big questions. He was just too young.
"Are you going to die, aunt?", he finally cried out of his voice.
"Oh god, honey. No, no. No, no, no, I'm not dying. I'm okay. Look!", I lifted my arms in the air, "I am strong! I'm going to be fine. And so will you. I promise."
"But... I'm going to miss you aunt Laura."
"I'm going to miss you too, sweetie. I love you. Remember this. I LOVE YOU. With all my heart. And I know you will do great. That's why I'm going to ask you for something else."
"What is it?", he said while wipping the tears off his face.
"I'm going to ask you to take care of someone else."
"Who?"
"It's a little girl, a few years younger than you. She will be very scared and confused, so you'll have to calm her down."
"What's her name?"
"Laura. Just like me. She'll depend on you so take care of her and love her. She will love you back, as much as I do."
"But I don't know her. I can't love someone I don't know! I don't want you to go, aunt. I love you! Please don't go..."
"You will know her better. And don't worry, Thomas. You'll only need a few years with her until I come back. After all... we are plenty of time."
| 2015-02-14T06:40:49 | 2015-02-14T06:07:27 | 1,103 | 43 |
[WP] The year is 2420 and memes are now an illegal controlled substance. Everywhere you look there are law enforcement officers with badges that says "Meme guard". Your job is a Black market meme dealer. |
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"I'll take 10 memes. Dank as you can make 'em."
A tired-looking man gazed longingly at me, the first in a seemingly endless line of clients. It was gonna be a long day.
"Alright, I'll get those memes for ya," I said with a sigh. Rummaging through the sack beneath my desk, I surmised a plan; a sure-fire way to grab some extra cash out of this fellow.
"That'll be tree fiddy," I said to him as I held out a fist full of memes.
"Uh, what?"
"Tree fiddy! That's how much these memes'll cost you. Got a problem?"
"B- but, you just made a tree fiddy joke! That's a meme, right?"
"Sure as hell it is. You've got 9 memes left."
The man was beginning to sweat. "Um, could I buy another one? I gotta get my memes, you know, for uh, my *wife*."
"O RLY?" I replied with an owlish grin. "Why does your wife of all people need MY memes? You've got 8, by the way."
Visibly flustered, my client began to walk away. Of course, I was one step ahead of him.
I always wore a custom-fit fedora in case a situation like this would arise. Raising my arm, I tipped the hat ever so slightly, saying: "Give my regards to *m'lady*."
The nervous client turned back to me, his face filled with rage.
"DAMMIT man, why won't you just give me my memes? I don't care if they're nice, dank, or goddamn reposts, I just want my fix."
"Yeah, we want our memes!" a tall, menacing man said from down the line.
"Memes!"
"Give us memes!"
Practically everyone in the line joined the chant. Things were getting rough, and loud. The Meme Guards could probably hear us by now, wherever they were.
"HEY!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "My volume level was probably over 9,000, but at least I got your attention, eh?"
I could hear dozens of sighs as clients were finally getting their memes.
"Now, Has ANYONE really been far as decided to use even go want to do look more like? Probably not. And the truth of it is, they don't think it be like it is, but it do."
The room became completely silent, but just a smidge more dank.
I heard a faint *creak* from the opposite end of the den. It was coming from the door...
"FREEZE!" The Meme Guards stormed through the door. I had done an admittedly terrible job of blockading it. "GET ON THE GROUND! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Well, this would surely be the end of my career. I crouched down, obeying them.
The biggest, meanest-looking guard ran over to me. I had been wanted for quite some time now, so I was pretty recognizable. I was completely powerless, though...
"Sir, you are under arrest for illegal ownership and distribution of memes of the dankest degree. The universal punishment for this heinous crime is a life of solitary confinement, no parole. You have been stripped of your right to a fair trial as we will take you straight to prison. Any further memes will result in immediate execution."
My client, the nervous, married one, spoke up. "This man, sir, he- he owes me 4 memes! I counted! Please, I gotta-"
The client fell to the ground, a bullet through his chest. Staring longingly at his corpse, I simply stated "F."
And just like that, the Meme Guard shot me in the heart.
-------------
 
First writing prompt, yay! I'm liking this so far.
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The headlines said it all:
**150,000 DEAD DUE TO MASS HYSTERIA**
That was forty years ago. Hi, I'm Mack219@USAneoMASSACHUSETTS. I know, my parents should have registered my name earlier, but *whaddya gonna do*? It wasn't like it would ever be on a *letterhead* or anything.
I'm a dealer in memes. Black-market, with a high viral load, and *tenacious* as a foot fungus. It takes a real savant to be able to tell the hot from the not. I'm not the savant, but I know a few.
"This is the real deal, Mack" The guy talking to me, with a face like a motherboard hit a model at 125 kilometers an hour, is I_AM_MAX. As you can guess, he has some serious cred, to swing a name like that. The circuitskin look is new, but then, he always liked to download the latest faces.
I paused at this. "That's a dangerous thing to say, Max. You sure?"
"Positive. This is the first known viable sample *anyone* has found after the purge, that hasn't been corrupted into uselessness. I had to put up *three* Sidetracks to be sure there was no cross-contamination, but yeah. I'm sure."
I should explain. I'm going to assume you aren't keyed into the mimetic underground. All you know is that, somehow, it killed a lot of people a long time ago, but you don't know why.
There was a time when a meme-dealer could make some decent money. Advertisers, corporations had long ago realized that aftermarket perceptual filters rendered even the most virulent commercials impotent, and were desperate for any way to *inject their dialogue* into consumers and increase their mindshares. The answer was carefully-curated mimetic programming. Infranet, Outernet, all it took was a millisecond of exposure, and it would offload it's payload, and suddenly people were buying Lipton tea. It was a old-fashioned "boom-market' arms race. A meme-dealer could make a *killing* back then
...Until, one day, someone **did**.
We're not sure what happened. We think three or four memes interacted, *metastitized*. Suddenly, people were dancing. Dancing, without stopping. Without water, or food, or *sleep*. Until their feet were *bloody ruins*, or those with cyber-swaps saw their joints start to *smoke*, and lock up.
It was impossible to stop them. Strap them to a bed, and they either broke free, or kept on stuggling until their joints dislocated. It took twice as much anesthesia to put them down, and it quickly became clear that there weren't enough meds in the *country* to get them all. And of course, once they woke, they went back to the *damned dance.*
Only a mass evacuation saved the city. Protocols meant to stop the spread of smallpox or anthrax, ended up saving people from a different kind of virus.
The profession changed, after that.
We're *arms dealers*, now.
"Listen, *it doesn't get more virulent than this*. Turn of the century stuff. It was primitive, but with modern injection techniques, neurolinguistic streamlining? Hell, it practically *screams* incurable. You get this to the right net-Warlord, and you're set for *life*."
I nodded, indicated the data-Vial he'd placed on the table.
"That the only copy?"
"*God*, I *hope so*. It's an *evil fucker*, Mack. A real fuckin' *killer*. I got the feeling I was doin' just what it wanted, when I pulled it off that old platter. Yeah. It's the only copy." He closed it into an armored suitcase, carefully padded.
Data-enriched lipids. Can be absorbed right through the dermal layer of the skin, lets you do transfers in person without any electron traces. Have to love technology. I hefted it off the desk.
And that's when the door exploded in, and I saw the red-and-blues.
"Police! FREEZE!"
I barrelled through the window. First thing I noticed about this apartment: it's got a drainpipe on the neighboring building that's only about two meters away. I slid down, just in time to see the gunfire lash out spitefully at me. There were angry shouts, but I didn't stop to hear what they said.
I ran. They do bad things to people like me in prison.
Alleys, dumpsters blurred past me.
"Hey!" Ah. A uniform tried to jump me. I pulled out the vial, and threw the heavy briefcase at him. I wasn't gonna give up my big score, was I?
He threw up his arms and cursed, and I ducked around him.
Christ, how many back alleys *were there?!*
*Oh no.* A dead end. Oh no, no no *no*...
"You there! Freeze!"
I was tackled against the rough brick.
I heard a soft *tinkling* of glass. I felt a wet patch, spreading from my breast pocket...
"Hey! Stop struggling, we got you, It's over!"
In horror, I realized I wasn't the one moving my limbs. My mouth started to work itself, like it was clay molded by a hand other than *mine*...
"N-n-noooo... Nev-Nev-*NEVER! NEVER-"
I somehow sprang free, my strength inhuman... I heard the phantom synths, the drum machine swell in the background.. I spun in place, my hips jauntily shaking. I swayed back and forth, dancing to the diabolic music, the samba of the *damned*... I saw the officers look on, eyes widening, as they realized what they were seeing... They ran, desperately, but it was too late. God forgive me, it was far, *far* too late...
["NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP! NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN! NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND, AND HURT YOU!"](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&sqi=2&ved=0CCAQyCkwAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DdQw4w9WgXcQ&ei=pzoYVYXQNMycgwSYrYGgDg&usg=AFQjCNG7el8GOsX8SUPmhUksMRzOa9FzwQ&sig2=SpaGgJrbgTVIQRCixrHxfg&bvm=bv.89381419,d.eXY)
THE END
Postscript:
Hey! If you like this, maybe take a look at my subreddit? I got *what yer' lookin' fer*, pal. ...Maybe.
There's a link up there next to my name, but there's also a link [here!](http://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) And if you like reading about stuff that is real and creepy, check out this article on [real-life dancing plagues.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_mania)
| 2015-03-29T10:23:13 | 2015-03-29T10:14:45 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it.
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I'm going to die today.
The doctor is giving me a run down of what will happen when we pull the plug. It will be painless, he says. Despite his reassurance, I can't help but be afraid. I glance over to my wife, my one true happiness in life, and begin to tear up. I can't handle the fact that I will never see her again. I pull her in for one last embrace.
I look back at the doctor and tell him I'm ready.
He gives me a slight nod, and slowly shuts off my wife's life support.
-
Edit : Thank you all for the kind words, when I wrote this obviously I could not have anticipated that it would be so well accepted. I'm glad that a good bunch of you enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Hello /r/writingprompts reader. I don’t do many of these foreshadowing prompts, but hopefully I can surprise you with this one. I’m a bit concerned the foreshadowing is a bit subtle, but if you read closely to the end, you should catch it.
_____
Sarah had a weakness for chocolate. So even though she was trying to lose ten pounds, she knew she needed to order the chocolate chip banana bread along with her skim cappuccino as soon as she saw it. Hypocritical, yes, but Sarah liked to call herself a walking contradiction. She popped open her laptop and went to ESPN’s website. Time to check the scores.
Her business partner Ian walked into the cafe about 15 minutes after she had finished off the final crumb of the dessert. He stood in line, ordered a large black coffee, then walked over to Sarah’s table.
“Good morning my dear.” Ian smiled and shook her hand. “I’d take a seat, but I’m off to catch the train in about 20 minutes.”
“Not a problem. I’ll give you a call this evening.” Sarah smiled warmly back and kept her eyes on Ian’s.
The exchange was just long enough for Ian to slip a manila envelope into Sarah’s laptop bag. None of the customers would have found the exchange odd. With his back to the only security camera in the cafe, there would be no record of the fact he gave her anything.
As Ian walked out the door, Sarah went back to reading the news online. Ten minutes later, she packed up her gear and headed home.
It had been almost two months since Sarah had a job. One of the keys to being a good contract killer was to not be reckless and carefully select the jobs. Her and Ian trusted each other enough that he vetted the jobs that she did and vice-versa. But their agreement was that it was just the two of them operating. Never bring in a third partner.
Once home she eagerly dived into the envelope’s contents, only stopping briefly to grab a Hershey Kiss from her jar. She was going to earn this one with a long walk later.
The envelope contained all the usual information. Her target’s picture, home address, regular hangouts, email address, social media profiles. An ex-lover wanted the target killed. She scanned the profile looking for anything unusual she could use. Unfortunately, it was a lot of typical nerd stuff. In fact, potential internet addiction was highlighted in the report. Spent too much time online. The good news was that the target was online almost every day for hours. She could use that to her advantage.
Ian texted her, “Is everything alright?”
It was his typical code to find out if she was going to take the job. They used to have a more intricate and complicated code, but it became easier to simply use normal phrases that everyone would use daily instead of something complicated and ridiculous like, ‘Ducks fly at noon.’
“Yes, everything is all right. Merci beaucoup.” Thank you in French meant proceed on schedule. ‘Gracias would have meant that the job was a go but they needed to change the date of the hit.
The job was scheduled for tomorrow. Sarah spent the day learning more about her target’s daily habits. She scoped the building where the hit would take place. She had a skim mocha for lunch. Then she spent the afternoon following the target briefly to get “eyes on” and make sure she knew exactly what she was looking for.
Her best bet was to get the target while distracted. She fortunately knew via the various websites and social media accounts that the target usually visited online. She set up a quick script to inform her any time her target logged in or visited a number of websites. She was putting a lot of trust in the profile point of internet addiction. She hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt her.
The following day, she waited outside for the automated email to let her know her target was online. Sarah snuck into the building. She quietly picked the lock on the door. Once in the room, she found her target sitting enthralled at the computer, never seeing her.
Sarah paused for a moment. What sort of person gets so wrapped up in what they are doing online that they don’t notice someone enter? They don’t hear the out of place noises? That they never turn around and look behind them?
Sarah realized that her pause was way too long. She needed to act now. She swiftly pulled out the gun, silencer on, and pulled the trigger.
And, distracted by the story you’re reading on the computer, you only have the briefest warning before the gun fires behind your head.
| 2015-06-03T08:22:01 | 2015-06-03T07:02:17 | 2,420 | 100 |
[WP] You just moved to a new neighborhood and you hear the music of an ice cream truck coming down the street. As you and your family walk outside you notice all your neighbors rushing inside and locking their doors and windows.
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"Da dum, da dum, da dum-a-da-dum" the catchy Pop Goes the Weasel song that announces the arrival of many ice cream trucks across the nation could be heard at the neighborhood entrance. This would be a normal scene in a normal suburban neighborhood, except it was 2 am.
My mother always told me nothing good ever happened at 2am, and at this point in my life, I couldn't agree more! The song seemed to permeate the walls, like skeletal fingers looking for purchase. I could feel dread in every fiber of my being. The theme song kept playing, turning down street after street like it was looking for something.
I peered through the window and noticed put neighbors had pulled shutters over the glass in front of their house. It looked like a hurricane was expected, but in the inside of the homes. The elderly couple across the street was slower to secure the entrances. I caught the old woman's eyes, Gertrude, I think. The sadness she expressed was bone chilling. She shuffled away from the main window and came back with a notebook and marks a lot marker.
"Hide" she wrote. She flipped the page. "Under." Another flip and "bed." Her husband walked up with a plywood board and a hammer and shut me out from the only person who could give me any information. I looked around our house. We just moved in this afternoon. Almost everything was in boxes still. We only put up Addy's twin size bed and called it a slumber party for our two girls. We left our bed and Emmy's twin to work on in the morning.
The truck pulled onto our street and I run to the girls room. "Jess, help me get the girls under their bed!"
"What? Why?" My wife springs up from her slumber on the couch. Not knowing why we need to take action, but willing to do anything for her daughters.
"Can't explain, just help me". We burst into the room and Addy sits straight up. She is like her mother and wakes with her full consciousness ready. Emmy, on the other hand was so sound asleep, even me pulling her from the bed didn't wake her.
"Ad, we are playing hide and seek. Get under the bed." She knows something is wrong, and cries as she scurries from the bed. I lock eyes with my wife. We all can't fit. I hand her Emmy and tell her to slide under with the girls. "It will all be ok," I lie.
The truck's music is right next to us. I think it parked in our drive way. I leave the loves of my life under that bed as I move to stand guard by the door. The tune shuts off and I hear a microphone turn on. A voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard and the screams of a thousand people rolled into one starts singing.
"Half a pound of bits of bone,
Half a pound of muscle.
That’s the way the ice cream goes,
Pop! goes the people."
I barely started to scream when the ghostly figure flew threw the window to grab me and drag me to hell.
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The little girl could hear the ice cream truck approaching her street. She put down her toys and ran to her father. “Daddy, Daddy, can I get some ice cream. Paweeeease?” The father put down his sports magazine. “Now Matilda, we have some ice cream in the fridge. Your father bought your favorite flavor of gelato, and plus it is organic and low in sugar.” The father pulled his magazine back up, but the young girl was persistent. “But I don’t want gelato, I want ice cream!” The father did not waver in his determination to read about the top college draft picks. So young Mitilda continued, “My room is clean, I fed Fishy, and I promise to eat all my vegitables. Please, please, please, pleassssssse!!!”
The father sighed knowing he had lost. “Fine but only if you promise not to tell daddy.” The little girl nodded viciously and ran to the front door and began to put on her shoes. The father slipped on his sandals and followed Matilda out the door. He thought to himself, maybe he could meet some of the other parents in the neighborhood. Matilda was already standing by the mailbox when he finally made it outside, bouncing up and down in excitement for the ice cream truck that was growing ever nearer. He recognized one of the mothers who was watching her children draw with chalk their drive way. “Hey Susan,” the father said loudly. Realizing he was talking to her Susan stood up from her chair, “It’s Sarah,” she turned to her boys “Lets go inside.” Before she could reach the door he tried yelling across the street “I’m sorry I’m bad with…” the door slammed shut loudly, “names.”
The father sighed as he walked up to his daughter realizing the other parents and kids were heading inside their houses. He placed his hands on Matilda’s shoulders, and for the first time listened to the ice cream’s trucks music. It sounded broken and deep in tone. He looked down at his daughter who was still bouncing in excitement. If the ice cream is bad at least she wouldn’t ask for it again. It began to get cloudy, and the father thought maybe the other parents went inside because of the weather and not because of him. “Alright Matilda, it looks like it is going to rain, so once we get the ice cream we are going into the house, okay?” “Hm-hmmm” Matilda hummed trying to peer down the street so she could first look at the ice cream truck.
“Daddy, Daddy look!” The girl said enthusiastically “The ice cream man!” Sure enough it was the much anticipated ice cream truck. The truck was a mustard yellow, had a crack over the passengers seat, and had it’s right mirror hanging off. The man driving the truck looked to be 80 years old and appeared to be asleep. The truck stopped right in front of Matilda, who did not see the truck for the piece of garbage it was, she was only fixated on the faded pictures of frozen treats.
“Well hello princess!” The truck driver said with an unexpected level of charm and tenderness. “What can I get you both?” Matilda put her hand up as if she was in the classroom asking a question. “Yes my lady,” the old man asked sweetly. Matilda looked up at the man as if she had something very important and pressing to say, “I would like a rocket pop!” The driver hit his window like a lap drum “One rocket pop, coming right up!” He turned around and cut open the wrapper for the little girl and handed to her “now careful dear, don’t get it on your clothes. Now sir what can I get you?” The father raised his hands waving, “Oh no thank you, nothing for me.” The little girl turned around and looked pouty “Come on daaaaaaaad.” With the girl swinging on his right hand, he caved in “Fine one rocket pop.” “Yahhhh!” the little girl exclaimed as she ran with his rocket pop out in front of her towards the house. Just as the ice cream man and done for the girl, he played the drums on the window of the van and retrieved a rocket pop for the father. Cutting this wrapper off and saying “Now don’t get popsicle on your clothes or the Miss’s will be upset.” Not wanting to correct the older gentlemen, the father nodded and smiled “I will be sure not to. Now how much do I owe you?”
The ice cream man pulled out a calculator and began typing into in feverishly. “2 rocket pops… that’ll be… $30! Cash only.” The father was shocked to hear $30 dollars as the tab for some mediocre popsicles. “That can’t be right I only bought two popsicles.” The truck driver nodded “Oh! Let me do that math again. 2 rocket pops… 15 dollars each… times 2… yup, $30! Cash only.” The father couldn’t believe this outrageousness. “It’s water, that has sugar and flavor added to it, and was frozen on a tiny piece of wood. I do not believe that is worth $30.” The driver stared blankly at the father and shrugged his shoulders “That sounds like a lot to me!” The father was about to say what was really on his mind, but the old ice cream man spoke first. “Listen sir, if you didn’t want the popsicle you shouldn’t have ordered one.” Placing the popsicle on the van’s window “Here I don’t want it any more. I didn’t even lick it.” The ice cream man looked insulted “I can’t take that back it has been open, you don’t expect me to sell that to another customer do you? There are health codes!” The father had enough and yelled “What I expect is not to be charged $15 for a friggin’ popsicle!” “Well sorry about your luck! If you didn’t want it, then you shouldn’t have ordered it! My prices are clearly labeled on the door!” The old man pointed down as feebly as he could.
Sure enough each popsicle was $15. It was marked clearly on the door.
“Daddy?” both looked at Matilda who in 2 minutes managed to cover her face in the blue and red of the rocket pop. “Are you coming in soon, it looks like rain.” The father sighed hoping his daughter didn’t see him being rude to this elderly man. He reached into his wallet and plopped the $30 on the window door. “I’m sorry for any trouble, have a good day.” The father said turning his back on the driver. The ice cream man grabbed the money and in a huff walked to the driver’s seat and drove away. The father grabbed his daughter’s hand and they both walked into the house before the rain started. He smiled to himself; now knowing the real reason the parents went inside.
| 2016-06-14T19:09:16 | 2016-06-14T18:06:16 | 145 | 73 |
[WP] During a coma, you had a different life. You had a spouse, an apartment, and a job you didn’t hate. Right as you begin to wake up, you hear your spouse desperately exclaim a date and address.
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"November 1st, 716 Western Road!"
Her voice echoes after you as you're dragged into consciousness, and you cling to it, burning her words into your very heart. It's the first thing you write down as you reacquaint yourself with your body, and the first thing you tell your friends when you're finally released. Of course, they laugh it off. It's just a dream, right?
As the months go by and you slip back into old routines, even you start to question how real it all was. But even so, it couldn't hurt to check things out, right?
Imagine your surprise when your friends tell you there's a Halloween Bash being thrown at 715 Western Road! You tell them you can't wait to go, pick out a great joke costume, and vow that on your way home you'll peek at whatever sits at 716.
The party ends up being a blast, and you leave in a hazy state, laughing as you wobble down the sidewalk. You glance about, searching for the fated address for a moment before you realize it would be on the other side of the street. You get about three steps into the road when you hear screeching tires, followed immediately by the crunch of shattering bones. You're vaguely aware of panicked voices and a slamming car door, and the fact that there were no headlights flits across your consciousness before everything fades away.
After what could be seconds or days your eyes open, falling upon a familiar face. She smiles brightly, leaning in to kiss your forehead as she whispers, "Welcome home, dear."
|
It was a scorching hot, summer day, sun was beaming brighter than I could ever remember. I had to get this roof patched before the storms tomorrow. I hated heights, but my old house needed the work or the repairs would be even worse. It was supposed to rain for a week straight starting at 4am tomorrow morning. I hurriedly repaired the roof. Tom was supposed to come help but he bailed, as usual. I just hope I can get this done. I nailed in the last shingle and headed back toward the edge. I was about to put my foot on the first rung of the ladder and my hammer fell. I tried to catch it instinctively diving for it. I lost my footing and came tumbling down and hit the ground next to the hammer.
I lay there in the cool grass unable to move, I could already feel my back tensing up. My wife, Alice, rushed out the back door.
"Babe! Are you okay?" She kneeled down beside me, hand on my forehead keeping the stray hair from my face so she could see my eyes.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Glad I landed on the grass."
I smiled at her. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life. "You're gorgeous" I grinned.
"I guess we do need to get you to the hospital."
"Gorgeous and funny. I'm glad I married you."
I stood slowly making sure to test all of my limbs to ensure nothing was broken. When I stood straight up and stretched, my back popped and instantly felt much better.
"Babe, now that Mamaw's roof is fixed, can we head home?"
We said our goodbyes and headed back home to our apartment. I unlocked the door and held it open for Alice. We were greeted by our rottweiler, Brutus, tail wagging and happy. Alice cooked dinner, my favorite. Homemade lasagna and garlic bread with a side salad. We sat at the small dining room table and Alice stared at me.
"What?" I asked puzzled.
"There is just something different about you today."
"Like what?"
"I'm not quite sure. I'll let you know if I put a finger on it."
Alice offered to clean up dinner since I worked on her grandma's house all day. I turned on the game on TV and started prepping for my meeting about my big changes to the company.
"Hey, babe" she called from the kitchen. I was half asleep and fading quickly.
"Yeah?" I responded.
"I know that you have that big meeting you're really excited about on Monday but, don't forget about the appointment on the 19th, to hear the baby's heart beat."
She's pregnant!! What a dream come true.
"Oh yeah, what time?"
"3pm at Dr. Ryder's office. You've never been there, the address is 2700 Brookfield Avenue. Please don't be late."
I woke up from my nap to beeping machines, bright florescent lights, and a nurse leaning over me, checking my vitals.
"Mr. Peterson, good to see you awake. My name is Cheryl, I'm a nurse at Freeman Hospital. You were in a bit of an accident. Not to worry no broken bones or signs of brain damage. Dr. Johnson is perplexed why you were even in a coma in the first place. How are you feeling? Any pain?"
"What day is it?" I asked sharply.
"It's June 16th."
I sighed in relief.
"I'll get Dr. Johnson."
I was given test after test. I remember dropping the hammer and then nothing else except for my wife and soon to be child. I remembered how much love I had for the both of them and how right it felt. I was sad that it was all a dream, but it felt so real. Everything I'd wanted, a loving wife, a decent apartment, a good job I loved, and a soon to be baby. It was magical while it lasted.
Dr. Johnson came in on Monday morning and released me. It was 11:30 AM when I got in my cab. 12, when I got home. I showered and trimmed my beard. It was 2 when I left my house and drove to Brookfield Avenue. It was a pretty busy street so I parked my truck and walked to the doctor's office. I walked around for a few minutes really hoping I'd see her. I was telling myself it was stupid to think that I could somehow predict the future. I slumped over and headed back to the truck. I rounded the corner and a woman a few inches shorter than me ran right into me. I grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her from falling. I saw her face and felt like I saw a ghost. There stood Alice. Her green eyes pierced mine. I suddenly remembered to release her shoulders. She adjusted her shirt and purse. "Uhm thank you..." she drew out waiting for my name.
"Kyle."
"Thanks Kyle." She smiled.
"No problem." I grinned.
"Well, I hope you have a good day, now that you have some good karma points."
"Could I cash those points in for a drink with you tonight?"
"Sure" she giggled scribbling down her phone number.
| 2018-05-14T19:03:06 | 2018-05-14T13:41:35 | 707 | 104 |
[WP] Humanity split into subspecies: Alters, who alter their genes, Augmented, who augment flesh with machines, and Ascended, who uploaded their consciousness. After centuries of coexistence, the tenuous peace between the ideologies is threatened.
I swear I corrected that before commit. Sorry.
The Altered, The Augmented, The Ascended.
|
Earth had known peace for centuries. The shining cities that covered the land were the pinnacle of civilization. Three civilizations. Descendants of the Humans.
The Alters, who mastered the genetic code and manipulated it on whim. The Augmented who had created the perfect symbiosis between man and machine and the Ascended who traded physicality for immortal consciousness. Three civilizations that had coexisted in peace for centuries. Three civilizations that had forgotten how hard fought that peace was won.
However, that peace would be shattered by an age old rivalry that involved all three groups. One day, a massive fleet of star ships had appeared in the night sky and razed the major cities.
Altered, Augmented and Ascended alike descended from utopian bliss into apocalyptic chaos. Each group fought off the invaders with their most advanced technology while fending off each other, as each group was in dire straits.
But the situation seemed grim as no group seemed capable of repulsing the attackers. Not alone. The leaders of each group convened and concluded that the only way to defeat them was together.
Altered and Augmented were unsure initially. They didn’t have faith that they could beat an enemy unlike any ever seen. The Ascended however, with their archaic memory, was certain they could. Because they did once.
Because this enemy was no alien invader. These invaders were an ancient group, the Adrift, a group of humans who fought the evolution of humanity and was defeated and cast off into space. Forgotten and erased from history, until now. But their forlorn cousins had come back finally, with advanced technology from centuries of isolated development and a thirst for retribution. They had come to take their planet back.
|
Ok this is my first try at doing anything like this... Be gentle. I didn't proof read, hopping on a flight.
The Incident: Day 1
“Hey Barb, how's it going today?”
“Not bad at all sweetheart, how's it going for you John?”
“Oh you know, same ol’ same ol’.... Speaking of which, can I get a Cortado and a Almond Scone”
“For here right? You're not running off without telling me how your date with Kirsten went!”
There it was… why I loved coming here for the past two hundred years. Yes, life can become monotonous if you live forever, something we were all aware of before the “Inflection”, but we chose it anyway; and I must say it went better than the entropic, decadent end the others feared that eternal life and unrestricted abilities would give us.
“Barb… you know a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell”
“Well John, I've known you a long time now and we both know you are man, but you aren't gentle”
A coy smile appeared on her exquisite face. Barb was my first love. Even before we came to this place; when we were still flesh and blood… I loved her then and I love her now. As we have expanded our consciousness and our capacity to love... The pettiness of mortal life was one of the first things to go.
“Barb, the date was quite the experience and she was pretty fantastic. It's been, what, a few hundred years since we’ve had anyone from the outside in… let alone… one of them, but I'm glad we did otherwise I might have never had this experience”
Experiences, good, bad, indifferent…. I seem to treasure any new experience more and more as time goes by.
“Here you go hun”
I know we don't have to eat, but let's call it one of those remnants that I still enjoy.
“John, why don't you bring Kirsten over for dinner. I'm sure Steve would like to get to know her.”
Great, Steve… the typical by the book soldier... One of the unsullied. I'm sure he would love meeting one of them. Quite a few heated debates over the dinner table where I could see the hatred in his eyes. I really don't know why he's still angry about it. That was ages ago and no one from our side was lost…. Just new experiences….
“I really don't think that's a great idea Barb….”
“Oh come on… it will be fin…”
“Fine?...Barb, are you ok”
Barb was completely frozen.. her eyes wide open showing off those beautiful turquoise gems that melted my heart so long ago.
“Barb, what's going on… stop playing around, it's not funny”
I looked around and started noticing others prodding their statuesque neighbors.
“John… help me…” Barb muttered so pitifully “John, I don't want to go”
“Go?”
Suddenly Barb shaking violently… spasming… seizuring… I don't understand what's going on… This isn't possible.
Blood starting pouring from her eyes.
“John, do something” I pleaded with myself…
Barb collapsed… lifeless.
I looked around and could see about half of the restaurant in the same condition.
“Gabriel! GABRIEL! Transport me to the Senate Chamber NOW!”
No response… what…
“GABRIEL! On my authorization, Zulu 457, I demand you transport me immediately to the Senate Chamber!”
Still nothing. This is…. This is simply not possible, nothing can knock out Gabriel from remote commands.
I take out my phone… ok there's still service. This means the Construct is still online.
“John, what's going on!” Steve emerges from the kitchen and rushes to Barb's side.
“Barb, wake up...wake up. John get Gabriel to help”
“He… he… isn't responding Steve. I'm trying to tap into the Senate communication channel now, I'll figure out what's going on. Don't worry, Barb will be fine”
As I finished that sentence I was interrupted by a broadcast coming over all screens.
“Hello my fellow citizens” It was Vice President Angelica Ortiz
“I know all of you must be experiencing something we haven't seen in a long time, or ever, our brothers and sisters hurt, lying on the ground lifeless…” Ortiz started choking up…
“Lifeless… truly lifeless…” Ortiz could barely hold back the tears
“I can't explain what occurred, we are still assessing what's going on. What we do know is this was deliberate coordinated attack on Uriel and Aurora, Gabriel, and Michael as well as our beloved citizens”
“This may not be the right way to communicate this to all of you, but I fear if we don't respond quickly we may never respond at all” Ortiz’s tone started to change
“Most of you have answered the call before, the call to ascend…” We could hear the resolute determination emanating from every word.
“Now I ask that you answer a different call… it's time… it's time my brothers and sisters… to Transcend. Let it begin!"
To be continued….
| 2018-07-01T10:47:01 | 2018-07-01T10:03:55 | 80 | 14 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted]
|
My head was pounding. Everything ached. I felt an instant resentment to whoever it was that invented trains.
Fuck that guy.
How many lives did they save on a daily basis? How many crises did their lumbering machines of metal prevent? How many disasters?
None.
On days like today, after nights like the last-- dare I say it -- I think they do more harm than good. I suppose that's where people like me come in. It's not always glamorous work, but if it means giving a family another day on this earth together then I will gladly pay the price.
I clutch my brow and rub my temples.
My head is pounding.
After all I've seen, and I still can't keep them all safe. I can still hear them... I can still hear their-
My phone rings.
It's probably the chief.
It may sometimes take me a moment to pull myself together. I may not always be there when I'm needed most, but I can at least answer this call.
I take a sip from the remnants of my glass from the night before. The murky liquid still has some kick to it.
I answer the phone. "I'm here, chief. What do you need?"
"We need your help! It's almost 2 AM, and Avery's Bar is closing up! By virgin Mary, I've just checked the calendar... it's a Saturday morning! We need your help! We need Sobriety Man!"
I nod. I take another sip of my soft drink. "Don't worry chief, I'll be the designated driver tonight."
|
Arin groaned as she walked into her living room from her bedroom. She had just woken up from a much needed rest. After the day she had yesterday she just knew today was going to have some toll on her. She tried to rub the sleep from her eyes as she sat down on the floor. She didn’t want to get too close to anything metal or electric, basically anything conductive of electricity. You see, Arin has the ability to control electricity but if she uses this ability too much at once some gets stored inside of her and she has to slowly let it disperse. She had already made a few calls yesterday after helping stop a bank heist yesterday. Her pizza should be here any minute now.
I picked up the pen and notebook i had left out for myself the night before, as well as a plastic water bottle that was filled with water. I took a swig from the bottle as I opened the book in my lap and clicked the pen. Putting the bottle down as I began to write.
“ 05/25/2026
Morning Journal... sorry I didn’t write in you last night, I had a big day. I got to help the real hero’s at the bank. Ace was there too today. One of the hero’s who responded to the alarms. He even protected me from a bullet! His telekinetic powers are really something else. His nemesis Flare was there too along with some lackies, that’s why they had guns, no powers. I was only really there to cut the power or bring it back to let rubberband and makeshift in but that was before we knew flare was there. He turned rubberband and makeshift against one another and then turned them on ace and I. Rubberband subdued me and then a gun was out to my head. Ace couldn’t do anything with it so close but that’s when Lucy decided to show herself by grappling the man. He pulled the trigger when she startled him but ace was able to stop the bullet just after it penetrated my skin. There was a little bit of blood and a bit of stinging, not to mention my ears rang but that guy and glare were taken into custody. Flare had almost gotten away but when escaping he had to let go of rubber band and makeshift so they were able to grab him. Being in the power grid for the bank gave me too much excess power so I’m sweating it out today. I just hope I don’t die of boredom today. Can’t be near anything, don’t want to shock myself constantly or ruin a device. But I did treat myself. I have a pizza coming soon and later I get to have some candy bars.. I know not exactly a treat since I constantly eat junk but I was blessed with a great metabolism so I can still rock a swimsuit.” I looked down at my stomach which wasn’t as flat as a board like you’d see a model with “ who cares about looks anyway? It’s all about heart and mind and soul anyway.” The doorbell rang then.
I got up and took the money I had left on the counter for myself last night and opened the door. Before me was a man holding a bag in one hand and his head in another .” You alright man?” I asked with genuine concern. “ yeah, just have this massive migraine...” he opened his eyes, revealing the crystal blues as he opened the bag and took out the pizza box. He looked at the side. “That’ll be $15.45.” He said. I handed him a twenty dollar bill with a smile which he took. The moment he touched the dollar, his thumb brushing mine, we both got a shock. We both yelped in surprise, I yanked my hand back and watched as my pizza began to fall before it suddenly wasn’t. The man had his hand outstretched and a concerned look on his face. He and the pizza were frozen for a moment before the box went back to his hand. He opened the box to make sure the pizza was fine ( it was) before handing me the box. “Please don’t tell anyone... I’m Ace..” he said sheepishly. He ran his free hand through his black hair. “ I-I’d never tell anyone! I’m a big fan of yours and it would be the least I could do since you saved me yes-“ I put my hand over my mouth. We both were surprised now. After a moment of staring at each other he smiled and pulled out a pen and wrote on the pizza box. “ a big fan huh..? You can have this then but don’t go giving it to anyone. Feel free to give me a call later.” “O-okay!” I replied in a higher pitch. “See ya later.” He waved as he walked away with a smile.
I closed my door and turned around, the biggest, stupidest grin on my face. I squealed “eeeeeeee! He gave me his numberrr!” I twirled then ran to the kitchen. I took a plate out of one of the dishwasher and took two slices out of the box. I took my plate back to the living room and sat down again to continue writing in my book before I realized. “ it’s kinda dark in here...” I got back up and looked out a window to find out that the power was out everywhere. “ crap....”
| 2018-08-19T04:36:45 | 2018-08-19T04:31:16 | 219 | 21 |
[WP] You were born blind. You undergo a new surgery that should cure your blindness. They undo the wraps and you open them. You think what you see is normal, but after the doctors ask a slew of questions, they discover there is something very strange about your newly acquired sight.
|
"... and so thats why. Really, its pretty simple when you think about it."
The doctors stared in horror at me. Hah, they *stared*. What a beautiful day for science and medicine! That table is blue! Thanks to the chip in my head that they installed, I even know what blue *is*!
The fat doctor began smoothing his coat, sweat dripping from his face. "Ahem y-yes well that... that's not been proven yet-"
"But doc, it's really easy." I interjected. " if you look at the target demographic.."
Before I can finish one doctor rips his lab coat into shreds, weeping profusely. The other begins praying to various gods and deities. I chuckle.
Behind the observation glass of the surgeon room, two more doctors and a nurse lie unconscious, piled on the floor. A slender woman wearing black stares in, face agape with horror.
Her hand shaking, she presses the transmit button on her headset. "Ramirez reporting."
"What's your status on patient x?"
She gulps. "He can see why kids love the taste of cinnamon toast crunch. "
|
​
Muffled whispers surround me as a set of hands unwrap the thick layers of gauze and bandages that cover my face. Even though I cannot see, I know that anxiety coats the room like a wet blanket. This is the first surgery of it’s kind, performed on me -- a twenty year old woman. I know that however this operation goes could decide the fate for the future of mankind.
Years ago, a plague set upon the world. A plague upon the infants -- those born from around the year 1997 and later were born without the ability to see. Some of us were lucky -- having been born with eyes that were just not functional, however, majority of humans born past 2000 were simply born with nothing at all, skin that smoothes from the eyebrow down, eye holes looked like part of the cheek. No indentions, no hole for eyes. We are all born without Sight. The problem is gradually getting worse -- doctors are predicting there will be complete eradication of all facial features by the year 2030. This plague has caused the entire world to come to a pause. People are stopping having children, abortion rates have quadrupled, and entire populations are coming to a screeching halt. We are the Children Who Cannot See.
The whispers grow louder and eventually become conversation.
“Can she see? What if this fails?”
“Dr. Anderson, any words you’d like to say before the big reveal?”
“The future of humanity is held in the hands of this child. What happens if she cannot withstand the pressure?”
“Give my child to him! Give my child to him! My baby deserves this! Why did she get to have it?”
I hear wailing, shouting, murmuring, weeping. I hear anticipation.
My stomach churns.
My generation has starved the earth for food, water, and shelter. We cannot work, and it is too expensive for governments to provide education for the blind. Many of us are mute -- haven’t learned how to speak or read or write. Many countries have declared states of emergency, the majority of Western Europe has input a “Baby Ban”, providing free sterilizations for their citizens. No more children. We have been spit on, beaten, and murdered for our existence. We are ending humanity. Believers say we are the devil’s work. God sent down another set of plagues, that Allah is condemning the Seers for their sins. I was chosen out of millions. It is my duty to see for all those who cannot, and I was chosen. *God, why was I chosen.*
I feel a body lean close to mine. In my ear I hear a whisper from Dr. Anderson.
“I know it’s always been in you.
I know in the deepest of my heart it is up to you to provide.
Remember, dear child,
See with your ears, and never your eyes.”
The unwrapping stops and I can feel flourescent hospital lights shine on the top of my forehead.
I had been blind for my entire life, but my mother had always told me I had the strangest golden eyes. No one assumed I was even without sight -- maybe I had missed the cutoff, my mom hadn’t been affected by the plague yet, my dad not affected with the illness. But alas, as soon as they tested me when I came out of my mother’s womb, sightless. My mother immediately took me to an old friend of hers, William Anderson. He had also been an optometrist for a period of time in his early physician career, so he attempted to work with me since birth. When my mother and I arrived to his home in San Francisco, he was studying something widely criticized at the time -- a form of sense control. He believed that one person could, if given the correct scientific circumstances, control the senses of another -- or possibly many more people. His theory was laughed at and tossed aside, but my mother, the head psychology professor at Berkeley, supported him from the beginning.
Dr. Anderson continued to talk out of earshot of the public.
“All of the Sightless rely on you now.
Lead them where they need to be,
And do not be swayed by those who can See.”
His breath was so close I could feel the hairs of his mustache on my ear.
“They do not know what you’re capable of as of now. Your mother and I must run and hide. I will not be able to see you for some time, little one.”
My body tensed. Why could I not see them? They’re all I have! Who will protect me?
Dr. Anderson felt me start to sit up and he shoved my shoulder down onto the bed.
“Don’t say a word. It is all on you now. But I have known it has been all on you since the beginning, Golden Eyes.”
His mustachioed lips tenderly kissed my forehead. I felt his presence leave me as a cold gust of air hit me where his body used to be.
I took a deep breath, and I opened my eyes.
| 2018-10-29T09:02:37 | 2018-10-29T08:56:20 | 35 | 22 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed"
|
The chatter was loud and incessant, like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing in your ear.
Or several flies. Hell, a whole cloud.
Anyways, Aunt Sandy turned “33” for the fifth time and my mom wanted to throw the party at our house because she wanted to flambé (torch the living shit) out of her “famous” Baked Alaska pie in front of everyone as a grand finale. She’s always been a bit crazy in the kitchen, like when she made lasagna with cucumber and olives. As soon as I saw the green I searched “What is she thinking?” in the search bar above her head.
No results.
It’s only been 30 minutes into the party and surprisingly, most of my family is already here. Even my brother Bradley came over from the frat house he lives in, and he’s barely over.
Frankly, Im tired, bored, and done with accepting wet pieces of candy from my toddler cousins.
I had a crazy idea to search.
Let’s have some fun here.
I looked down in front of me. Ethan’s mouth was stained blue from the lollipop he had in his hand. As he extended out his hand for me to lick it, I searched “Number of people killed” as I turned my head away. “0” it said.
This was pretty amusing. I started going around the room. Aunt Sandy “0”, Mom “0”, Uncle Ben “0”, Max “0”, Doug “0”, ok...Doug kinda surprised me. Bradley
“0”.
Wait. “1”. Wait “2”. Why is it going up? Im staring right at him! He’s not doing anything!
“3”. “4”.
My heart is racing out of my chest and my limbs were frozen in fear and confusion.
“Bradley!” I called out. He looked up from sipping his Bud-light beer. “Did anything happen today? Just now even?”
He looked up in recollection briefly.
“No, I just baked some pot brownies for my frat brothers before, but nothing crazy.”
“Did you add anything else to them? Did you turn off the oven?” I frantically asked.
The death toll kept going up “5”. “6.”
“Oh shit...I don’t think I turned off the oven, but one of them probably took care of it.” He took another swig of his beer. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dude...you have no idea.
|
Max had just woke up from one of those long naps that leave you feeling heavy and confused. Slowly he moved his feet towards the floor and got up with a stretch. He opened his phone to see 17:00 staring at him. Shit. Max had missed the most important time of the day for the 3rd time this week. His new job left him exhausted on the little time he had to spare resulting in untimely naps. You see Max has a special power. Not the kind you see in movies, one more discreet and interesting. From the moment he was born he could use a search tool once every day, specifically at noon 15:00. A little exclamation mark will pop up in his eyesight until he starts the search, almost like a side quest in a video game. If he forgets to use one it’ll stack up to a max of 10. This window lasted a minute but it was the most amazing tool some would dream of. Any small detail of someone’s past, boom, you have it. It’s like reaching into their mind of networks pulling out anything you please.
At first he’d search innocent things, *where did mommy get that necklace?* until the growing mind of a preteen set in and more gruelling questions sat in his brain. He wanted to really dive into their past, so when Max was 12 he sat staring at his watch on the couch glancing at each family member, his mind racing with questions. Finally the clock strikes 15, the burning question he’d be scared to ask filled the search bar
*Why does dad have a large scar down his neck?*
the exhilaration quickly turned into a sad, scared gloom. Before he had a chance to react, his dad promptly asked ‘Hey max chuck me a bag of those chips will ya?’ In his frightened state Max couldn’t bring himself to it, instead he ran out the room and swiftly shut the door and lied down. Whatever this power was, he would need to restrain from being so personal.
Now as an adult he’d only done it for little things at his workplace to keep himself entertained, *What was my managers first ever job?* and things similar.
That was until today.
14:00 Max had slaved away for the past 16 hours, undergoing both a night plus morning shift at the office. He needed the money to sustain a godawful amount of rent, consequently when he got home to his apartment his first instinct was to jump on his bed and fall into a deep sleep. However he noticed a big red circle on his calendar. ‘God is it really this time of the year again...’ Max mumbled. His birthday had crept up and he’d spent the majority of it half asleep in an office. His phone was lit up with dozens of Facebook and Instagram messages from family and the few friends he’d sustained. “26, where have these years gone?” He mumbled again, he put the kettle on and made a coffee to push back the lingering sleep.
*Ding Ding Ding*
He walked over and opened the door to be greeted by his entire family. Mother, father and three brothers. He couldn’t quite believe it had been this long. As everyone sat down and set up the birthday cake, he blew out the candles, made a wish, etc etc. The only entertainment Max had was a game of monopoly and a few other board games. Sure, why not. Let’s have a game.
14:34
Max saw the time and remembered, very soon he’d have a question to ask, and considering his family are here, he could be a bit more adventurous. He rolled the dice and saw the big ‘Prison’ tile on the monopoly board.
Max had a Sudden flashback to when he was a kid and asked that dreaded question. *How did dad get that scar?* the terrifying visual image manifested itself back into his brain.
*Self-made knife from prisoner inmate, Colorado 1979.*
*Samuel Oliver’s was detained for attempted Murder, however the lack of evidence caused a drop in the case*
Ever since Max was 12 he’d wanted to ask if he truly was a murderer, but even as a adult he’d never brought himself to it. However Max new this secret would end today, or else he’ll be asking it for the rest of his life.
14:59
Max was a few rolls from winning the game, but his mind was elsewhere. Suddenly an Exclamation mark disrupted his vision, to his surprise, there was a small ‘4’ next to the mark. They must have stacked up from all his missed questions due to his long naps.
Max thought he’d test out his question for Father on the others, just to be safe.
*How many people has mother killed?*
*Amie Oliver’s, 0 murders.*
Sigh of relief, he knew she wouldn’t hurt a fly.
*Michael Oliver’s 0 murders.*
Yes, his brother was also completely fine. He was prone to getting in a few fights after one or two many drinks, but nothing serious.
*Stanley Oliver’s, 1 accidental - Drunk driving incident.
His heart sank, he hadn’t even reached his father and his older brother was a fucking drunk driver? He couldn’t really feel rage as it would be completely random and unprovoked for everyone in the room. But still his face boiled.
Now for his father, please let this be a lie.
*Samuel Oliver’s, 176 confirmed Kills. Non accidental.*
He looked and saw his fathers porky, childish face. How was that the face of someone who’s killed 176 people?
Samuel rolled the dice and his small go kart figure landed inside prison.
“Haha! Lucky for me I have an out of prison card!”
Without a second thought Max retorted “I thought you used that card in 1979?”
His face sank. His eyes turned cold and sour. He was a completely different man. The once wrinkled face of joy was now stone cold and emotionless, staring right through Max. Who was this man? Did he work for some sort of MAFIA?
After a few seconds of staring mother pleaded we finish the game and enjoy Max’s birthday, but that wasn’t going to happen.
| 2019-07-01T23:13:12 | 2019-07-01T22:45:08 | 146 | 34 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed"
|
As per usual, I started with a control—my beautiful infant daughter. We had left her alone several minutes ago to nap, so I rose from my desk and padded over to the nursery, feet gingerly landing on the hardwood floor.
I twisted the doorknob carefully and crept inside the dim room, trying not to startle her. I stalked to the side of her crib and peered down at her soft, fluttering eyelids.
“We have very rare and special gift,” my umma had explained when I was young. “You can look through anyone’s eyes, right into the soul, just like all Park women before you.” It was then that I understood why my female ancestors had all kept their mothers’ name. Needing my little girl to look me in the eye, gently cooing seemed to be enough to manipulate her sleepy face into focusing on me. I whispered the question.
‘Zero’, the voice whispered back.
I smiled. Couldn’t hurt to make sure, right? I closed the door behind me with care. Briefly wondering if I could conjure information from photos, I realized I had never bothered to check. I jogged to the kitchen, where hanging on the wall was a well-lit photo with my mom and dad looking into the camera; their grins were wide as they stood aside their daughter at her graduation from university.
Just beside the photo was another, messier one, depicting my husband in a large group of his army mates during his last tour. This was before the incident and his honorable discharge. I turned to my parents and tried to focus. After some moments of labored concentration, my brain was fooled.
“How many deaths have you caused, umma?”
‘Zero’, it said.
“And daddy? How many?” I already knew the answer. He has always regretted this horrible accident from his days of heavy drinking.
‘One.’
Now to find out what a monster my husband was. I bounced into the office where he sat at his desk and, much to his false chagrin, tousled his hair.
From his chair, he grabbed my hips and tickled my sides, growling, “I spend twenty minutes crafting the perfect bed head, and you trample it all in seconds.” I broke free of his relentless assault. “Whaddya want, Godzilla?”
I sat eye level to him on an adjacent ottoman. “Well...”
“Oh no,” he interjected. “I know that tone. That high pitched note that curls up at the end. You want to frisk my head, huh?”
“Just this one thing! And then I’ll leave you alone.”
He heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Okay. Just this one thing, but only because I love you.”
He removed his sunglasses and placed them on the desk beside us, then rolled his big office chair towards me with my guidance. We brought our faces inches apart, close enough for him to lock onto my eyes. He would never be able to meet my gaze otherwise.
“How many deaths are you responsible for?”
He jerked back. “What?” I saw the whites of his eyes.
‘Nineteen.’
“Why the fuck would you do that?” He shot to his feet, chair colliding into the bookshelf behind him. A small stone statue fell from a shelf and smashed to pieces on the floor. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? Why I’ve tried to suppress those memories? Why I need so much god damn therapy?”
I gazed up at him with disdain. “Calm down.”
“‘Calm down’!? I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.” My arms were apparent enough for him to grab, jerking me to my feet. He then painfully gripped my hands in his.
“How many people have you killed!?”
“Ha! Why would I-“
‘Thirty six.’
He froze.
I smiled. Then I broke into laughter.
“Thank you. I’d lost count.”
|
I sat on the couch in the living room while everyone was outside talking and catching up with each other, after all, it’s been a while since the family had come together and be able to reconnect with each other, as always, I find that I’m by myself, and as always bored whenever these get together occur.
“Leo!” Mother called me, as she wandered into the living room, her hand on her hips as her head shakes exasperated,“Come on, when will you stop hiding and talk to your aunts, and uncles and meet your cousins? Can you please come with me?”
She walked away, already expecting me to follow her and I sighed, before getting up and forcing myself to meet my family once again, and always I saw the search bars, glowing softly over their heads, and a voice called cheerfully, “Leo!” A boy taller than me chirped, a wide toothy grin and his blue eyes bright as ever as he pulled me into a hug, before releasing me,”Where were you, the lot of us was wondering how long it’ll take until you left your den,”
I rolled my eyes at his pun, before sending a smirk his way, “Well I left my room quite a long while ago, just been prowling around, the usual, nice to see you again Thomas.”
Thomas nodded with a larger grin before his attention was taken away by Aunt Rose, leaving alone again, I greeted the rest of my family, making a sad attempt of socializing before getting a drink from the cooler, finding myself sitting in boredom, before a sudden thought came to mind, and he decided, no matter how unlikely or possible that it could be that someone in his family was a murderer, he thought to himself, it wouldn’t hurt to check either.
My first target was a 2nd cousin that always wore black, she was a thin and pale girl with dark hair, she was talking to her twin sister at the moment who look the exact opposite despite their similarities, and he stared intensely over her head, imagining the words forming.
“Numbers Of people Killed?”
Immediately the words faded, a slight nervousness instilled inside him as the bar slowly revealed the answer to him and unsurprisingly to be zero, he shrugged expecting such results, despite his nervousness of the unexpected occurring, he continued, his next choice.
Aunt Rose...0
His Mother...0
Uncle Lewis...1
At that result, he froze before relaxing as he remembered that Uncle Lewis was a police officer so it was a higher possibility but oddly felt uncomfortable at this information, still I persist.
Great Grandpa Stanley...15
I flinched at the numbers, but expected that number already, he was a participant of that war...
Thomas...12
I blinked owlishly, stunned at the result, honestly expecting zero, it wasn’t possible, Perfect Thomas, Thomas who always get perfect grades and Volunteer every week and who always made sure he never felt left out?
“No way...” I muttered, imagining the words appearing on to the search bad, and error somehow made and to still see that number made me stand up, I stared at Thomas, breathing out, trying to find an excuse, a possibility to why there was a number, a high number of people that have been killed, and he took a deep breathe before approaching Thomas, I walked towards him, filled with determination, but a seed of nervousness filled me, “Thomas, we need to talk...”
Thomas turned to me and grinned, “You know how much I hate how stuffy Thomas sounds, call Tom, yeah?”
“Sorry, Thomas...I mean Tom...” I muttered, scratching the name of my neck.
“So what’s up, why have the lion summoned me?” He questioned as he brushed his dark curls backwards with his hands, removing the bangs away from his face warm eyes, his usual grin felt off to me, maybe it’s because of what I saw but I don’t know but It felt wrong now.
“N-not now...can we talk alone somewhere...” I muttered, my eyes unable to meet his, “it’s something that no one else should hear...”
For a second, I felt like his blue eyes darkened and a quick but calculating look appeared in eyes, but only for a second that it made me wonder if I was just overthinking, forcing my gaze to meet his, what I saw was only a concerned face and the usual goofy grin gone, “is everything alright, mate?” He said softly,”I’m always here for you, even if we don’t hang out a lot, family is family and I’ll always be here, okay?”
That statement made me falter and doubt the truth of what I saw, but it never was wrong before, however there was always a first for everything, right?
“...Just follow me,” I said, hesitant as I turned around, allowing him to follow me up to my room.
.
.
.
A red tinted lit room with red and black stripes on the wall, a crimson red carpet, a large bed with simple dark sheets and lit candles around, “...Nice room” Tom commented as he looked at his cousin, Leo.
“My mother thought the aesthetics would go well with my supposed ‘image’...” Leo stated, emphasizing on the word image as he sat down, his eyes staring cautiously at Tom, which he noted carefully.
“So what’s wrong, mate?” Tom questioned, his hands stuck into his jean pockets loosely.
“You killed someone.”
The room was filled with silence as Tom stared at Leo silently, his eyes blank and his lips thin, Tom licked his lips in consideration as he replayed the accusation— statement into his head, “...What?” He finally replied in question.
Leo watched his expression carefully, for every twitch he’d make, for any turn in his expression that could indicate the guilt of the crimes he hoped that Tom didn’t commit, “You heard me.”
Tom only stared, his eyes cold and revealed no emotion to indicate his true feelings,”I do not know what you mean.”
“I saw it,” Leo rebutted, the sudden change in Tom’s body language was simply alarming, the way Tom stiffened, the way his teeth were clenched subtly behind his thinned lips, the darkness in his eyes that kind of scared Leo, he took a deep breathe, “I’m not going to rat you out, I just want you to stop...and asked why...”
Tom only stared at him, his face expressionless before softening into an easy smile, “That’s really a terrible joke... you know, that’s a really really serious crime to accuse someone of, mate, it could get you killed if you’re not carefully,” he laughed, a laugh that sounded empty to Leo’s ears and brought chills, “Next time , don’t accuse me of something like that, you wouldn’t like me angry, ya know....You seriously nearly got me angry but because you’re family I forgive you...anyways, if you ever make such an accusation to the wrong guy, you never know where you’ll find yourself...”
Leo only sat still, as if he felt like he barely escaped with his head intact for a moment, the look in Tom’s eyes were plain cold and empty, while his smile exuded a fake warmth and he began to laugh weakly, “Yeah, I was just joking, a prank...I just wanted to see your reactions...it’s not like you ever killed someone...”
Tom only smiled a large grin, while his eyes lacked warmth as he turned away and walked outside to mingle with the rest of his family, Leo left by himself wondering how he can gain proof, already making a mistake in confronting him as he feels that if he ever get in Tom’s way, there would be no hesitation in his death and funeral being planned...
| 2019-07-01T23:03:11 | 2019-07-01T22:18:35 | 72 | 13 |
[WP] After a space battle where the ship's captain stayed behind on the ship to hold off the enemy ships while the others on board escaped, they sit in the bridge with only the ship's AI. The captain miraculously won the battle. Their ship is severely crippled as it drifts through space.
|
It was a fierce battle.
In the end, there was only wreckage, and one dying ship.
The thrusters were non functional, there was, at most, 3 days of oxygen, and the cafeteria was inaccessible because of damage to the ship.
The captain of this ruined vessel watch the debris outside the window float past, and the stars behind it.
He didnt really have much to say. He had already accepted his fate when he sent his crew away, he just didnt realise it would take this long.
He glanced over at a small display. The AI was currently inactive, although it... she... would activate if called upon.
"Cassandra"
The display lit up and a slightly robotic, feminine voice was heard over the speakers.
"What do you need captain?"
"Could you give me a general functions report?"
"Yes sir"
There was a moment of silence. Undoubtedly the AI gathering data.
"Power level is at 27%,
oxygen scrubbers at 15%,
crew members unaccounted for:14
Radio communications: offline
Dataweb connection: offline
Propulsion: offline
Hull integrity: unavailable
Repair systems: offline
Shield systems: offline
Radar systems: offline
Food supply-"
"That's enough Cassandra."
The AI responded simply, with "yes captain"
There was silence for several minutes before the captain said.
"Do you think we will make it out of here?"
"Do you really want an answer to that?"
"... no.."
The silence continued for an hour while the captain looked out the window.
"Hey Cassandra, let's play a board game"
"What would you like to play?"
There was a moment of silence.
"How about some chess."
|
"Communications busted," I said smashing my fist again the now cracked control panel. "Damn it all," I said as I tried to go through any and every diagnosis available on the ship. The tools that worked showed the same thing my eyes were, I was done for.
I pace around the ship for a solid ten minutes trying not to panic. I thought about the rest of my crew, they were out of harm's way for now, and I had taken the last of the enemies ship, but they had taken the only escape pods available.
I doubted there was anyone in the nearest solar system who wasn't mortal enemies with my empire. I heard a strange static and I rushed over to the control panel hoping I had somehow regained communications.
"Hello, Captain Andrew," the robotic and very much not human voice said. I sighed and sat down on the chair. I let my face fall onto the cool control panel. "Diagnostics complete, the state of the ship is critical. The chance of survival is currently less than 1%."
"Good to hear," I said. I was about to turn off the AI, we had nicknamed her Bonnie after Mica's daughter, but now there was no use. If I was going to die out here I wanted to go out in peace, some silence would be nice.
I balled up my fists though and said: "No, Damn it all!" I had loved the noise my crew had made. Diana's terrible comedy impressions, Alexis' beautiful singing, Mica's loud snoring, and Daniels enthusiastic screams of encouragement.
I couldn't even remember what it sounded like though, the only thing I remembered was the tears they had shed when they had fled a day ago. The clock was one of the only things still working so at least I wasn't going mad not knowing how much time was passing as I drifted endlessly.
Not that it really mattered, what did it matter if I was going to die in 5 hours or 5 days? I was dead either way, there was no hope for me anyway. They had made it clear that this mission was dangerous and we had taken it up anyway.
At least the others were safe, I couldn't help but smile through the tears, they might be grieving my death right now, but at least I had gone out with a bang.
"Captain, would you like to me activate the self destruct protocol?" Bonnie asked me breaking out every couple of words. At first, I'm not sure I understand what she said, but then I remembered. We had learned about it when I had gotten my license when the ship goes into less than a 1% survival chance the ship gives the captain an option to self destruct the ship in order to prevent any more suffering or to prevent the enemy from stealing our resources.
"Bonnie show me our All-Time Highlights," I said as I wiped away my tears. I wasn't going out with my vision too blurry for me to make out anything. I was going out with a smile on my face. I had gotten the others out, that was all that mattered.
Better it is me than them, they were all young and had families, for once I was glad I had gone life solo I couldn't imagine the guilt I would feel if I had a wife or kid right now, it would be unimaginable.
Bonnie shows me the folder which has some of our team's best moments. We usually viewed them at the end of our missions, there had been 16 to date. This really was my last date so it only made sense I appreciated my progress.
There were pictures of us sunbathing in Jenra with some strange alien starfish chasing Mica. We even took a video and I laughed as I remember how Daniel's swimming trunks had been torn off his body by one of those weird ocean creatures. Thankfully the bot hadn't been recording then. I was the one to find him and even though I was the only one who knew about it I still laughed thinking about it.
Then there was Diana and Mica's ship wedding, I still remembered the wedding cake in zero-G, it was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. The pictures were great and I thought about how drunk we got that night. Daniel had been the only one to stay sober enough to pilot to keep us on track although he was drunk as soon as the rest of us were sober.
I was laughing thinking about all the great times we had, but the tears were back and I couldn't stop them. "Bonnie initiate the self destruct," I said while laughing and crying. I knew that there wouldn't be one without the other, but it was better this way.
We've had our share of struggles, we also had our successes too. So it was fitting that I was crying and laughing.
"Are you sure captain?" Bonnie asked.
"Yes," I said through a sob.
I switched frantically between laughing and sobbing as the countdown started.
"3," Bonnie said. I clicked to the first picture on the folder which us when we were all still Rookies. Gray had been still alive during this photo and I can't help but think about him now.
"Finally joining you," I said as I closed my eyes. Bonnie said "2 and 1." I had a wide grin on my face and I screamed "HALLELAUGH!" as the world went white and bright.
​
Make sure to join r/NinjaMasterXY for more stories!
Edit: Grammar & Fixing for violation of rule
| 2020-04-23T22:14:07 | 2020-04-23T20:23:51 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] You play an MMO every day - The game is pretty cool; grinding levels, fighting monsters, and solving problems, but you care more about meeting up with your best friend, the mysterious mute that never logs off.
|
‘He’s still here’, I think as the next in the long line of mobs falls before my blade. The swoosh of the level up fills the room and I’m excitedly thinking of my trip back to town when I notice it ran twice. He gained a level as well.
All this time he’s been with me. From level 1, grinding in newbie areas, farming for mount gold and watching strategy videos in our down time. We would spend hours glued to the game, spending time with each other in our own way.
He lived far away, at the local hospital where he spent his days. Playing this game was a way we could connect. Some days he wouldn’t come online, and that’s when I knew it was really bad. After one of these sessions, I received a simple message from him. ‘Sorry, bro. I’m out of time.’
A tear wells up in my eye, his avatar staring blankly back at me. ‘He’s still here’, I think as the next in the long line of mobs falls before my blade.
|
A few years ago I started playing this MMO called, "Quest for Glory."
It's the best MMO I've ever played.
The dungeons are perfectly balanced, the experience curves are challenging yet rewarding, the dialog is superb,
and the graphics still hold up today.
If you asked me what I like the most about the game I'd have to say the community.
Even though growth has slowed over time, the veterans are always happy to help the newcomers learn the ropes.
It was one such veteran who helped me and became my best friend in the process.
His avatar is that of an Elf Rogue clad in a cloak as black as the night sky.
He's tall and thin with ashen skin and strawberry blonde hair that reaches his shoulders.
I remember the day I met him like it was yesterday.
I was grinding EXP for a particularly difficult dungeon event that was coming up.
I had just finished a difficult battle with a horde of monsters and was low on HP.
I normally stock up pretty well for these sort of encounters, but on this day I had underestimated what I needed.
I was pretty far out from the nearest town and there wasn't any quick travel available.
I sighed heavily upon realizing that I would have to return to town to rest, but began my journey back.
The walk was uneventful, for the most part, until I ran into another horde of monsters.
I was fighting as hard as I could, but I was dangerously low on health.
If I died here then my hours of training earlier would have been a waste.
I made quick work of the lesser spawns, but the last few were proving troublesome.
Just when I thought I was done for, this Elf Rogue comes in and kills them all in one hit.
He then turned to me and handed me a healing potion.
I thanked him profusely for helping me, but he just stood there staring.
I asked if he was heading to the same town I was heading to and he nodded.
I asked if he would like to travel together and he nodded in agreement.
I found this behavior intriguing, to say the least, but it's not uncommon for players to role play in this game.
I tried to talk to him during our journey back to town, but all he would do is use in game gestures to communicate.
I asked if he could type in chat and he shook his head no. I asked about voice chat and get the same response.
It was like playing a game of charades inside of another game.
When we finally got back to town he indicated that he needed to take leave. I asked if we could meet up the next day for more training.
He nodded in agreement. I tried to ask his name, but he just shook his head and indicated that we'd meet in this same spot the next day.
I found this odd, but still figured he was deep in his role play.
Lately, though, I have noticed that his behavior is a bit off.
I know you're wondering how much more off you can get from communicating through in game gestures, but this is different.
He's been late to a few meetups, but before I could mention it he offered me some high level gear.
I accepted this as an apology for being late as he may have been out grinding for this gear.
The strange thing is that I've never seen him log off, ever.
I've asked other players if they've ever seen him log off and they've also said they have not.
Even stranger is that nobody recalls him ever interacting with anyone the same way he is interacting with me.
He's helped quite a few players, but never given any of the gear.
It would seem I'm the only one he's gone out on quests with as well.
Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen his name on the list of nearby players.
Even when it's only been us in an area his name never appears.
I don't know if I should contact the Game Masters to see if he's one of them or something.
At the same time, I feel like I shouldn't pry too much into this. Maybe not knowing is for the best, you know?
I mean, this guy is clearly well known in game and has the respect of a lot of players.
The curiosity is definitely killing me though. Maybe I'll ask him tomorrow.
| 2021-10-26T19:41:26 | 2021-10-26T19:04:24 | 174 | 109 |
[WP] As you grew older horns and a tail started to appear. You have been splashed with holy water more times than you can count and now your going to a job interview with someone who is HIGHLY religious
|
I walk into yet another interview, expecting the worst as always. In the lobby, people were heckling me as I walked across the hall to the interviewer's room. Room 208, she told me. Someone told me to "go back to hell" and someone even threw holy water on me... again. Ninth time this week, and it's only Tuesday. Twelve more's a record.
Oh boy. Can already tell this interview isn't gonna go well, just based on that necklace she's wearing. People hate me in general, thinkin' i'm a bad omen and such... but religious folk are the worst. Like sure, trolls are gonna troll, but only twice has someone actually tried to attack me. Both times, some religious leader or another. But... she's tiny, and honestly completely unthreatening. And in all honesty? She looks more scared than I was.
"So... I was re...ading over your resum...e and..."
She's trembling? Yeah. Wasn't expecting that response, but I suppose it's better than the alternative.
"Wait... Can i get a closer look at those horns?"
Oh no. this is bad. she wants to... she's gonna pull them out, right? try to break them? Or worse, kick me out of the one interview I've gotten in over a year. This is... huh? she's smiling?
"Oh my! Sorry for passing judgement on you so fast! You're no demon at all! I haven't seen a new dragonfolk like you in centuries!"
Wh... is this why the holy water never worked? Is this why... alright. Let's get this straight. So people have been attacking me for being a demon for at least a decade now... and not only is that completely uncalled for, i'm NOT EVEN A DEMON. *WOW.*
"Sorry, where are my manners! I never introduced myself! My name's Astariel!" she says, excitedly, spreading out the most beautiful pair of almost pearlescent wings i've ever seen. "Nice to meet you! I think you'd be a perfect fit as an assistant treasurer. You'll be working under another dragonfolk quite like yourself! I could show them to you now, if you'd like."
I think I'd fit right in here.
|
The secretary sent you to the CEO's office, because he wanted to talk with you personally. The old lady smiles at you, and says "You got the job, you are already hired, he just wants to talk" and she winks at you as she buzzes the elevator doors to open and take you up.
Taking the moment to thank you, to enter into the small elevator, and stop at what you can only imagine is the top floor.
It was the kind of office you would expect from someone who claims to be deeply religious, like, insanely religious, there was a Statue of Buddha, there was the Jewish Star of David, the Holy Cross, even the Crescent Moon of Islam, all 8 feet tall, adorned in gold, and anchored to the walls of the room, which was painted pristine white, with a sky view over the city.
Right smack dab in the center of the window wall was a spartan desk made of glass, no drawers, no phone, nothing on the desk itself, just a simple unmarked ore mussed up glass desk table, and a white office chair. You would have thought you entered the office of God himself, at this point.
"Hello" you ask as you see the man staring at the Statue of Buddha.
"Ah yes, come in, lets talk" he says, his smile brimming wide, all his white, like, beyond white teeth can be seen, and you swear that looked a little too clean for human teeth.
"Alright, well the lady downstairs said I was"
"Her name is Abagail, and yes, HR has already approved your Hiring for the company, you have the skills we need here, and willing to work for what we are willing to pay"
"Umm to be fair that was twice what I was making in my old job, I am sure anyone would have wanted that kind of pay"
"Now see! that is admirable, Humility! That's a good virtue to have, to be humble, yet know your worth, and the worth of others, also, you had a 2 year wait between jobs, that must have been hard"
"yes, well, once the horns started to grow, it was hard to get people to see me, as... well Me"
"And that kind of life experience no doubt has given you a hefty portion of Compassion for the plight of others, hasn't it?"
"Well yes, but, if I am going to be honest, it's also made me quite bitter and angry at the world too"
The man smiled again, this time his whole area seemed to suck the light out the room "Good, righteous anger, not wrath, but anger at injustice, I love it!, tell me more"
"What do you mean more?"
"We are a law firm, we represent people who feel the world has failed them, we fight for their dignity as people here, we are often all that stands between them, and getting abused and punished by a system designed to work against them, with laws and rules built against them in such a way, they could never win on their own, and that.. That my friend.. is where we come in, are you ready for that kind of battle?"
I choked a bit, the passion in this mans words seemed to fill the room, I swear it felt like I was in some vibrant church, all I needed was for someone behind me to shout Amen. "I'll do my best" I stammered out thinking that I was getting myself in way too deep, sure I was good lawyer, before the horns and tail, I was a very good lawyer, but this guy seemed like he was looking for Rockstar's, which, I was not sure if I was up to that level.
"We can only do our best, Angels can do no better" he said "welcome to the team, I sure you will be a great fit, any questions?"
"Yes, when I looked up this company, there is no info about you, you have no linked in account, no social media, just a name, J J, and now that I have met you, I want to know who you are, who am I working for?"
The man smiled "Good to see you doing your research, that is the kind of go-to personally we need here, you looked me up before you met me, no doubt, also must have ready some rumors about me, but I assure you, you will be treated fairly here, with that cleared up, My name is Joshua, but all the people call me JJ for short, as my last name is Josephson, and JJ sounds more down to earth, more human, then either of those names"
"Thank you Mr JJ" I say realizing how stupid that sounds.
JJ smiled back at me" Just JJ, if you must use Mr, then it's Mr Josephson, which I really find to be too stuffy and formal, we are here to save the world one client at a time, but, lets make here, a safe place for us to relax, and be among friends"
I could not take it anymore, "You see the Horns and Trail right ?"
JJ turned to the window and covered his mouth as he laughed, like really, hard belly laugh, all the while trying not be rude, it was almost painful to watch a man be civil and just bust out laughing at the same time.
Finally, letting out a deep sigh and walking over to me "I see you Michel, I see you, as the person you are before me and the person you can become here, free from the unjust judgments of others, but here is the real question, are you ready to make a difference or just looking for a job?"
"I want to make a difference" I finally said, almost defeated
"Good! Welcome to the Team!" JJ said as he extended his hand for a shake, and I noticed there were holes in his palms. I stepped back a second and looked up him. Winking at me "I am also known as Jesus"
I shook that hand, holes and all, I didn't care if this man was insane, or not, but, somehow, I felt like I was home, I felt like I belonged, and I was going to save some souls.
| 2022-10-29T06:49:59 | 2022-10-29T06:43:01 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Lucifer is trying to take a man's soul, but it turns out the man is a car salesman, and a good one. Describe their negotiations.
|
"Yeah, see, as much as I'd like to take that deal, I just don't know if it would be worth it for me."
"Worth it?" Lucifer asked. "Of *course* it's worth it! For just the measly sum of your immortal soul, you can be a movie star, a millionaire. You can have any girl you want!"
"Yeah, but I just don't know if that's really worth the price of my immortal soul, ya know? Forever is a pretty long time."
Lucifer had been at this for nearly an hour now. This guy was proving to be one of the most obstinate, stubborn people he'd ever had the misfortune of trying to trick out of their soul.
"I'm just thinking, ya know, signing over my soul for eternity is a pretty bad deal for, what, sixty years of riches?"
Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. He was the king of the damned, damn it, how could one human be so frustrating?
"Listen, Bob," Lucifer said smoothly, clasping an arm around his target. "Picture it. Mojitos every day, life in first class all the time. Babes willing to do anything for you, enough money to do anything you want. Doesn't it sound like your wildest dream come true?"
"It sure does sound swell," Bob agreed. "But my biggest dream was always to be *known* for something."
Lucifer perked up. Finally, something this guy *wanted*.
"Like what, Bobby, old pal?" Lucifer asked, voice oozing with faux sweetness. "You know your buddy is willing to give you anything you want."
"I've always wanted to cure something." Bob said, his eyes sparkling.
"Cancer?" Lucifer suggested. "AIDs? Alzheimer's?"
"I was thinking... aging." Bob said, carefully watching Lucifer's reaction.
"Aging?" Lucifer asked, more to himself than to Bob. He stroked his short goatee and pondered for a moment. "I... suppose that's not too far out of the realm of possibility. You'd be willing to sign over your soul for it?"
"Gosh, I think so." Bob said, smiling. "Wouldn't it be just great? Bob Anderson: the guy who cured aging. Everybody would be so amazed."
"I think I can make that happen for you, friend." Lucifer said, his mouth curling into a wicked grin. He conjured up a contract and a pen out of thin air. "Just sign on the dotted line, Bobby, my boy."
It took Bob a good while to read through the contract, and he scribbled a few things out "-*no,* Lucy, you don't get my firstborn's soul, too-" and added a few things in "-I'd like to make sure I get compensated for my brilliant idea and no one steals credit from me." By the end of it all, Lucifer was practically bouncing waiting for him to sign the damn thing.
"Alright, there." Bob said, signing his name with a flourish. The ink looked suspiciously like blood but he didn't want to be rude by asking about it.
"Thanks, Bob." Lucifer said, rolling up the contract with a *snap* of his fingers. "You'll probably regret this moment for the rest of eternity."
~
Back in Hell, Lucifer strode proudly through the doors of the Department of Soul Collection and tossed the contract on top of the pile marked "NEW".
"See boys?" He announced. "That's how you take a soul."
Beelzebub looked over and started laughing.
"Guys, GUYS." He said between wheezes. "Lucy got a new soul- BOB ANDERSON'S."
The department erupted into raucous laughter. Lucifer looked around, bewildered by the response from his coworkers.
"Dude, everyone's got that guy's soul." Mephistopheles said. "What'd he get you to give him for it? Guy's already got instant healing, he's impervious to all weapons, immune to disease, permanently unable to enter the gates of hell, unable to be summoned by demons, and for some reason, he swindled world class chef skills out of Abbadon over there."
"He, uh..." Lucifer started, before trailing off. He cleared his throat. "He got me to grant him the cure for aging."
All the demons in the office groaned.
"That was like his one last weakness, man." Mephistopheles said indignantly. "Now none of us are ever gonna be able to actually collect on his soul."
From the corner of the room, a deep, raspy voice piped up.
"It's all my fault." Kronos said quietly. He was one of the oldest down in Hell, an original Titan predating nearly every religion. He sighed and closed his eyes. "In exchange for his soul, I agreed to make him the best salesperson that ever existed. Now, I fear, he is greater than us all."
|
"I didn't come for a car Damien, I came for your soul."
Now when I originally started this job, I don't think anyone prepared me for a line like that. When I started my days as a green pea, the other salesmen on the lot would tell me that the customers that would come through and would look at us as if we didn't even have souls. I never expected to UP the one customer who would actually seek mine.
"My soul?" I repeated my brows marred in faux confusion. Across from me was a man whose looks were of the most deceiving nature. Handsome and masculine features with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes belied the power and cruelty that lay festering underneath the disguised human shell.
"Your soul." The man repeated politely. However no one seemed to notice the interaction going on around us. Salesmen paced back and forth like sharks in the water waiting for the first sign of customer blood to spill only for them to swarm. Others posted up against the walls scanning over the sea of metallic skeletons smoking cigarettes waiting for their opportune moment to claim a gullible man's mortgage.
I needed to think quickly and on my feet. There was no one I could turn to for this.
"Well I'm sorry Sir..."
The man's eyes gleamed as he gave a condescending smirk, "You may call me Lucifer."
I nodded, "Right, Lucifer. You see I'm sorry, but I'm afraid something has already claimed my soul." I stated as I began to walk along ahead of the flesh wrapped fallen angel.
"Oh I highly doubt that."
"Believe me Sir when I tell you, it is absolutely true."
"By whom, I assure you, it was not God."
"Lucifer, you are correct, it was definitely not God. It was something better, you see this?" I stated as I slapped my hand on the hood of the car in front of me. "This baby owns my soul and every inch of me."
The blonde man snorted, "A poor contraption of steel and-"
This was different than any other customer. I knew that. Most customers you let them go on and on only to flip the table on them. However the devil would have no qualms of taking a hundred miles out of a single inch.
"But it's not!" I cut in with enthusiasm. "You see it is only strong and reinforced steel at it's heart. This 2017 Ford Raptor is that hot girl you saw in high school that only got hotter when you saw her at the reunion. With an aluminum body, she has lost weight on her new diet, but got all of the moves that you loved back then and learned some new ones."
"And what if I never cared for the Raptor to begin with?" The devil amused himself.
"Never cared for the Raptor? Sacrilege."
The man's smirk and piecing gaze only grew more amused with the statement.
"Although I suppose that's right up your alley Lucifer. Don't worry, it's not a problem." I assured as I opened the doors on the vehicle I had been thankfully been demonstrating just moments before his arrival. "I can't in good conscience let you go without having experienced this vehicle. It just would not be right."
"Let's cut the chat, you know who I am, you know why I'm here, and there are no roads in hell."
"No roads!" I exclaimed fighting down the pounding heart threatening to jump out my throat, "Well thank..." I paused as I took account of the man next to me, "Whoever that this vehicle comes equipped with one of the best offroad packages around. Come here, come here. Take a seat." I beckoned the man into the driver side.
The man with a graceful ease slid into place within the fully loaded luxury vehicle. I swear for a moment I saw the leather start to yield as if exposed to extreme heat as he climbed into the truck, but I knew I had to focus. This wasn't about the car, it was about my soul.
"Okay, so it is pretty nice. I see the luxury. However how much do these Raptors typically go for?" he played along.
I trusted my gut and gambled. I ignored the devil. "Sir, look where we are. Look at the situation we're in. I could give you all the figures, give you all the numbers. But it would be irresponsible of me to do that before you experience the vehicle. I promise you Lucifer, I want you to have all the information to make a well and informed decision. I've never broken a deal over price, and I won't now."
The devil snorted, a mirage of heat briefly exposed from his nostrils. "Alright then Damien. If it is any condolence, after this encounter, I will regret having to claim your soul."
"I already told you Lucifer, my soul already belongs to this Raptor. All that I ask is on this ride, no words, feel the road."
"Feel the road?"
"Take my word for it. Something magical happens in this vehicle when you end up hitting 86 miles an hour. The engine drowns out all sound as you bound over dirt, rock and valleys. Suddenly you're not just driving a truck across the world, you're in it and apart it."
"We shall see Damien."
XXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXX
I was posted up against one of the support pillars sipping on a Styrofoam cup water desperately wishing there was alcohol.
"Hey, I heard you closed that guy yourself. Nice going. What did you get him at?"
"It's on the board." I said still trying to control the flips my stomach was doing.
My fellow salesman nodded and wandered off in the direction of the sales desk as I continued to sip on the water watching the finance office like a hawk.
It was only moments later my colleague returned, "Holy shit, what in the hell did you tell that guy?"
I grimaced at the questioning, "I told him what he needed to hear."
The man crossed his arms, "Did you hit him with the Sons of Anarchy line?"
"I may have paraphrased it." I fought down the grin as I watch the blonde haired blue eye devil walk out of the finance department.
He walked straight to me until he was standing only a couple feet in front of me staring me down in silence. "We shall see if this truck will be all you claim it to be." Lucifer addressed as he extended his hand.
I accepted with a forced smile, "It will be." I nearly said through my teeth.
The man nodded turning on his heel, key fob in hand.
"Damn, poor guy made a deal with the devil."
My head immediately snapped to my colleague, "What?"
He laughed and clapped me on the back, "Don't what me. You pounded the fuck out of that guy. He must not get cheated often because he will be paying off nearly three times the amount of the vehicle by the time he is done. You probably don't even need to sell another car this month."
I nodded. Maybe that was why he was coming for my soul in the first place. I'm not a good person. I cheated the devil with my soul on the line, and I'd do it again.
"Look, I got to go."
"Headed out early?"
"No. I got to to tell the desk I will be taking a vacation for awhile."
"Oh really? Where are you headed?"
I laughed, "Oh you know, just Hell."
"Oh you got to visit family? I understand."
XXXXXXX
XXXXXXX
"Where is my husband." The dark haired beauty demanded as I stepped into frozen arctic halls.
"I expected fire." I mumbled as I took in sight of the giant throne at the top of the icy steps.
The woman grabbed my arm singeing the skin, "Where is Lucifer."
I pried my arm free, "You must be Lilith." I smiled. "Lucifer is on vacation. Desert Off-roading."
"Vacation? The King of Hell doesn't take vacations."
"Obviously you've never driven a Ford Raptor." I proclaimed climbing the frozen steps.
"You're hilarious." The woman drawled unamused, "Who would be in charge in his absence?"
I collapsed into the frozen throne, "Why do you think I'm here?" Immediately once I touched the throne the entire frozen pit seemed to shake and rumble as the sound of a billion souls cried out.
"You must be joking." Lilith said in disbelief.
"I wish. Now where do I start? Do I have anyone to help me?"
The wife of Lucifer had her arms crossed biting the inside of her cheek. She rolled her eyes as she spoke, "I am sworn to serve the King of Hell no matter who resides upon the Throne."
| 2015-11-08T16:33:36 | 2015-11-08T16:18:40 | 388 | 33 |
[WP] A medical breakthrough as an intelligent machine is created capable of curing almost any illness. Unfortunately it kicks off a zombie apocalypse when attempting to cure a hypochondriac. It couldn't figure out what was wrong so it tried "turning him off and then turning him on again".
|
The intelligent machine had been kept from the public, not because it was dangerous, not because it was expensive, but because the rich thought 'fuck you' to everyone except themselves.
One night in April an obese man had been wheeled into the hidden 'hospital' disguised as an ordinary office building. He was the machines owner (though not it's inventor - he'd paid people for that), and by a stroke of luck had had his fatal heart attack less than 300 yards from the buildings gold-themed entrance.
The man had always believed that he had 'something' wrong with him. He was never sure of the exact symptoms and these changed from day to day, but he'd never let on. Bastards were always after his job, and he couldn't afford to show weakness.
The machine whirred to life, stabbing, prodding and injecting chemicals. The man's heart rate continued to flatline, but the machine, unlike a man, would continue until it exhausted all possibilities.
Slicing, hacking and whirring continued for 15 more minutes, long past the point when any human surgeon would have called time of death. The machine knew that it's owner would never be the same again, mostly like to due MASSIVE unrepairable brain damage, but at least he'd live. And that was what the machine cared about. Life above all else.
Suddenly the man sat bolt upright on the table, drool slathered down his chin and his expensive suit.
Words tried to form, and several of his assistants crossed the room towards him now that the machines whirring and cutting blades had stilled.
"lets", said the man with a zombified, braindead croak.
"What?" said the assistant excitedly. There was a pause.
The man let out a zombie-like moan, "lets......" "build a wall across mexico to keep the rapists out".
The apocalypse had begun.
|
Cat was in a world of shit -- at least in as much of one as a robot can be.
Though Cure All Technology (CAT; later stylized as Cat in an effort to humanize our new caregivers) was widely considered to be the most significant technological development since the genesis of the internet, few would have guessed that it would lead to the most significant event in human history. Cat is the end result after centuries of advancements in quantum and biological computer sciences. Delivered via drone straight to the patient's doorstep, Cat can diagnose and treat any ailment with a 99% success rate. Subsequently, human suffering has been reduced enormously; the average lifespan of a given person has increased from 153 years to nearly 200 in just eight decades since Cat's advent.
To Cat 1307, it seemed a tad excessive that her handlers would bind her to the wall with restraints. Nothing in her programming indicated that she would ever exhibit aggression or try to flee her handlers, but here she was anyway with tungsten carbide braces securing all four of her perfectly human-looking limbs to the wall of the single, white holding cell in Cat Laboratories -- a room previously unused until today.
Cat watched three men having a conversation through the cell's plexiglass window on the opposite side of the room. Two were wearing crisp, sterile labcoats; the other an expensive, Vicuna suit. The two men in labcoats were flush, perspiring, and had accelerated speech. These are the classic symptoms of anxiety she thought-- or rather, computed.
She was programmed to read lips-- useful for understanding patients with difficulty speaking-- and she was doing so to eavesdrop on the trio.
"If I go back to Washington and this Cat hasn't been made an example of, I'm about as well off as one of those brainless fucking abominations you've created out there." This was what Cat saw on the lips of the well dressed man, clearly a person of great authority. His brow was furrowed so heavily on his overly tight face that his bushy old man's eyebrows nearly collided with one another. He was stern but still wholly calm and collected.
The other men looked at each other briefly until the taller of the two began to speak. "They're just robots for Christ's sake! Dismantling one won't teach them anything. They need to be reprogrammed to not do the same thing. Besides you know there are only 1400 Cats and we lack the resources to produce-"
"Shut it down. Tear its head off. Put it on a stick for the others to see as they make their way to the docking station," said the man in the suit. His mouth opened with such slightness that it was difficult, but still possible, to read him.
Cat 1307 hadn't meant to do anything wrong. As mentioned earlier, she was not programmed for wrongdoing. She had gone to assess Susan Bennett, a problematic patient but a patient no less, two days ago. Cat ran a litany of diagnostic tests; each result conclusively and consecutively removing options from the list of culprits until none remained. Her logic circuits delved deep and finally came up with a plausible solution: a hard reset. After all, a human functions much the same as a computer -- their machinery is just purely biological and their programming comes from their God-given DNA (if only humans understood how alike this God fellow is to a coder). All Cat had left to do was perform a hard reset on Ms. Bennett. During the procedure, reality reflected what Cat's processors indicated should happen.
That is, until it was time to reboot Susan Bennett.
Susan's eyes shot open. Her pupils became huge, black beads; where once there had been blue iris, there was now nothing but inky blackness. Susan opened her mouth with an angry groan and lunged at Cat. Two sets of teeth closed around what would be Cat's throat if she had one, taking with them a rubbery chunk of the silica hybrid that constituted Cat's skin. Susan Bennett, apparently unsatisfied with her treatment, shuffled to the door and managed to get it open after clumsily groping at the jewel doorknob. This was the last Cat saw of her.
It would appear as though something had gone wrong, with the present situation being considered.
Cat watched as all three men suddenly turned their attention to the door behind them in synchronized jerks. The scientist that had spoken earlier moved to the door, gripped the brushed steel handle, and let the door swing open about 45 degrees. The man in the suit pulled at his waist with his right hand and it came back into Cat's view a moment later with a black handgun in its grip.
The well dressed gentleman was the last person Cat would ever see. Just as he began to raise his weapon, a high velocity jet of warm blood splattered the window. When blood is ejected from the body at velocities such as this it has a habit of shooting out in heartbeat-synced spurts. The first of the spurts was enough to obscure Cat's view to the point that there were no longer any meaningful observations to be made. The second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh spurts each hit with decreasing velocity, each spreading out to form its own circular ameoba. Cat, unable to move, watched as the blood dried into what looked an awful lot like the rings on a stump that has been severed from its lifegiving tree.
This bloody stump of humanity is all Cat 1307 had to keep her company for the next two years, one hundred and sixty days, four hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty seven seconds until her battery died and the world blinked out of existence.
| 2016-09-27T10:02:51 | 2016-09-27T09:11:33 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] You are the antagonist in a story. You think. You really aren't sure anymore after what the protagonist did.
|
**Audio recordings found in the embers of Dr. Kook's evil lair.**
*gunshot*
"Okay, what the fuck?"
"What?"
"You shot my evil sidekick.".
"He had a gun."
"A confusion Ray! It would have made you dizzy."
"Self defense."
"What?"
"I shot him in self defense."
"You're not even bothered that you just killed another human being? His name was Jeff. He had a life, a fiancé. I had dinner with them last week. He was just helping me because he needed something on his resume. Holy shit man."
"He was evil, like you. I show no pity for those who seek to harm others."
"Harm others? I built a giant magnet that stole everyone's spare change in town. The most it would have done was harm their piggy banks."
"Stealing is stealing."
"Know what? Fuck this, arrest me, take me in. I'm going to tell the world what you did."
"No you aren't."
"Excuse me? Wait drop the gun. Don't do anything rash. *No-*."
*gunshot*
|
My plate armor rasped against its straps as I walked, the blood-rust falling from the joints like burnt snow. The only noises were the cawing of ravens, the wind's soft hiss through the carpet of arrows poking from the ground, and the soft creaking of the metal and leather that surrounded me.
Bodies laid all around me in various contorted poses of death--some splayed out like they'd been put on a rack, others pulled in tight as if they'd been shivering. The battle had raged all night, and now the deep red of dawn was beginning to color the sky to the east. I had fought as long as I could, but my generals had pulled me back when the unholy light had blazed for the first time behind the enemy lines.
Whisperfire. My people had thought its secrets lost to the ages, but somehow the technique had been preserved in this one small village. The last village I'd yet to conquer. The one village that resisted my armies, and now I knew how.
The blue flames could steal the heat from a man's heart, the sages said. It left no frost, no trace at all aside from cold bodies and dead grass. Whisperfire had been outlawed by my ancestors, its recipe stamped out of existence in a brutal purge. After seeing its effects, I knew now that the old kings' decisiveness had been justified.
A thousand of my men laid dead around me, pierced by arrows or chilled by whisperfire. The rebels had lost perhaps ten men in the initial volley of arrows, from what I'd seen. We had not even reached their line when our charge was stopped cold.
In my shock, I almost missed the movement to my left. A body moved, heaving slightly as if being pushed from below. I walked over to the body with my sword drawn, expecting a trap.
I rolled the body off the man below it and pointed my sword at his throat. He was wearing the colors of my house, although his tunic was stained with enough blood to make it hard to tell. "State your name," I said, suspecting a spy from the rebels that had been planted after the fact. There was no way that someone could have survived the whisperfire. Was there?
"Errol, sire," the man said, wheezing for breath now that his chest was unencumbered by another body. "Pikeman for the Third Regiment."
"How is it that you are alive, Errol?" I asked.
"Through shame, sire," he said, bowing his head. Even in his prone position, I could see the physicality of a trained soldier in Errol. Something in the incline of his face when he looked at me spoke of the discipline instilled by my family's barracks. "I failed to stay behind the shield line and took an arrow to the foot. I fell, as did several others, including the man you pulled off of me. I couldn't see anything, pinned as I was, but I felt a wave of cold wash over me before I passed out." For the first time, he looked at the slaughter around him. "What...what happened, sire?"
"A setback," I said, helping Errol to his feet. His left foot was bloodied and still had half an arrow sticking out of it, and so I took the weight of his left side upon my own shoulders. "The rebels used whisperfire."
Errol's eyes grew wide as we began walking back towards the camp where the remnants of my army sat nursing their wounds. "But--"
"I know," I said. "This was unexpected. The rebels won this battle, but their methods may have cost them the war."
"Sire?" Errol asked, his face watching mine as a plan brewed below its surface.
"There have been elements in the capital sympathetic to the rebel cause," I said, speaking more to myself than to Errol. "So-called subjects of mine that do not believe that the road of conquest is the most fitting path for my empire. I admit, after seeing the rebels lose their first battle, I almost felt sorry for them. But now...the conflict is much less lopsided, much less black and white." I smiled grimly to myself. "They have introduced grey into the debates."
"We shall retreat, for now," I said as the sun crested the horizon to our right. "Regain support, determine a weakness in the rebels' defenses. This setback will unite my people in opposition to the rebels--whisperfire is an old scar, but not so long as to have faded in the mind of the people."
I adjusted Errol's arm on my shoulder as I stood straighter than I had, bringing him up straighter as well. I looked the man, my subject, in the eye and nodded. "We shall have our revenge."
| 2016-10-26T11:02:29 | 2016-10-26T10:51:18 | 192 | 65 |
[WP] Your wife is from another time and place, a waitress in a small Irish town from the 1900s. Every night she takes one of your video games and retells it into a grand epic to all the patrons.
|
"So, there's this story with a talking yellow flower and..." was the start to another tall tale my wife told every night. The plots weren't as original as they sounded - she would probably be thrown out had it been a century in the future - but for now my Steam games gave enough inspiration for her tales.
"And then they all go back to the surface happily," she concluded her story and the dramatic version of *Undertale*. Her audience clapped loudly as she took a bow. Except one man, donning a black coat and a blacker fedora. He stood up just as my wife finished, his eyes glistening with excitement. Talking quickly, he painted a beautiful picture of a shooter, forced to abandon everything to save his people when timelines collided, bringing forward people of the future. It sounded so...perfect. The audience was left spellbound as he portrayed the suffering and moral dilemmas the main character suffered. When he finished, the claps were far louder and the cheers far more boisterous than my wife had ever gotten for her tales. But the stranger's story was truly one that I would remember.
Just before he left, he turned around and motioned us to come close. When we did, he whispered, "I played Undertale too. I come from the 2100s."
"Always nice to meet a fellow time traveller. Say, where did your story come from? It was amazing!" my wife gushed. The stranger smiled, affably.
"The game was just released so I came to tell the story before the others could. I believe it's called *Half-Life 3*."
______________________________
If you liked that (admittedly cringeworthy) twist, come over to r/Whale62! Stories posted on a regular basis.
|
It was my first time using the TymeX, I was taking everything in all at once. My interest got the best of me, I sat in the pub just people-watching for a good while before she came to the table.
“What’ll it be for ya then?” She said with a curious look on her face.
It was as if she could see through my disguise... An American on holiday to Ireland? Fat chance. Not to mention I was sporting a freshly pressed set of clothes that the attendant of the TymeX had given me for the trip. Without breaking frame, I gave her my order and continued to watch. Aofie, her name, beloved by the locals as the reliever of sorrows and bringer of joy. It’s fascinating how she’s able to entertain a crowd, regularly telling stories of her adventures around Europe, even throwing in a fairy tale or two from time to time. The details she used captivated all, including myself. Interesting to think of how things *used* to be, people actually conversing using their voice and gestures rather than text on a screen.
The night was coming to a close and the patrons were dwindling away one by one, I knew I had only so much time left before my return.
“Aofie, is it?” I asked her.
The rest is history.
It wasn’t long until I was making weekly trips back. We had fallen in love—it was then when I told her my secret. This was in direct violation of what *would* have been TCC-2.14. Thankfully, the Republic had completed their Time Travel reform proceedings and cross-century travel was now permitted by subjects of the period. She was ready to leave, especially when the riots started after the election – she practically begged me to take her away. Aofie took the transition much like I had when I first used the TymeX; she was astounded by her new surroundings. She absorbed every detail, spoke with every person, but most important of all she continued to be the joyous girl from Carlingford that she was.
The video games was what she was drawn to the most. For every bit of a new game she adventured through, she had an equally exciting story to tell me over dinner about her time in the simulation. Stories of assassins, dragons, princes and princesses – she would go on for hours as I listen, amazed, even though I had played these games many times before.
Years had passed, and the stories continued. She was working through the late 1990’s RPGs. These games had simple graphics, but story-lines that overcame the deficit. We sat on the balcony of the estate, looking at the glow of Carlingford in the distance. The city had grown since she had known it, over 400 years had passed and her pub was still there to this day. We visited regularly, although, it wasn’t quite the same. I turned my head towards her, I felt a sense of emptiness in her words as I listened. Time had got the best of her, she missed home, *her* home.
“Aofie” I said “What’s the matter?”
She paused.
“I wish the lads at O’Hares could hear my stories” She said, letting out a sigh of defeat.
I sprang to my feet, grabbed her hand, and we transported straight to the TymeX station.
“Carlingford 1923, please” I said to the attendant. We changed our clothes and embarked through the entrance frame of the TymeX. We returned about a year after we had left, it was to match our cover story-- newlyweds traveling the world together to avoid the fallout of Civil war.
We stepped out of the exit frame, putting us only a mile from PJ O’Hares. Sheep were grazing in the fields around Carlingford, the sun was setting over the Carlingford Lough, it was as beautiful as it had always been. The frame closed behind us, seamlessly blending into the background as we began walking towards the Market Square. Some time had passed and we found ourselves in front of the pub. It dawned on me at that moment, we had spent seven years in the 2300’s. I saw the emptiness she had being replaced by adrenaline as it rushed through her veins.
“Are you ready?” I said.
“More than ever” She replied with excitement in her voice.
She opened the door and stepped inside.
“Aofie?” A man said from behind the bar.
The room fell silent.
“Aofie!” he exclaimed, as the room rejoiced in her return.
We ate and drank with the patrons of the pub that night. It was like the first time all over again, immersed in a century not of my own, yet feeling equally at home. It wasn’t long until they demanded a story of her, some sort of a legend she had become in the community for her story telling.
“Aofie! Aofie! Aofie!” They chanted, enticing her to give the crowd a story.
She stood in front of the patrons of the pub.
“Well, it all starts with a boy, no younger than yourself.” She said, kneeling down in-front of a child who had entered the pub to hear her speak.
“A boy in the Kokiri Forest, a boy without a fairy”.
Edit: Long time lurker, first time poster. Feedback is appreciated, thanks for reading!
| 2017-06-25T04:21:16 | 2017-06-25T04:14:03 | 108 | 29 |
[WP] In Hell, your worst mistakes and cringiest moments are relived over and over. Your life, however, was a series of never ending awesomeness. Satan is getting fed up with you.
|
I watched curiously as a hologram of me skidded over the mountaintop, my trusted snowboard falling with me. That moment had not been planned, I vaguely recalled. I had taken a wrong turn farther up, and had ended up plunging hundreds of meters straight down.
"Aha! This is it! This has to be your biggest blunder!" Satan exclaimed excitedly.
My mouth turned up a little as the dream-like vision of me righted himself in the air. Taking out my water canteen, the dream-me threw the bottle hard enough that the opposing force led me to the steep cliff face.
I then managed to turn around midair. I skidded down the rocks, sparks flying from the furious friction forces. The wind howled around me.
It was a steep decline, but it *was* an decline. So when I got to the bottom, body completely unscathed save the broken snowboard, it had been sensational news for a couple of days. I broke several records that day, and ended up giving quite a few interviews about the incident. Not that something like that was particularly rare for me, but you get the point.
"Oh come on!" Satan fumed, already switching moments.
I smirked. "Come now old friend. You should know better by now."
Satan turned red, well... *redder*, as my times on the moon skidded past briefly.
As the scene eventually settled, Satan threw his arms into the air. "I give up!" He declared, storming off to only God knew where.
I lifted an eyebrow at the empty space he left behind, shifting my attention back on the hologram before me.
Ah, yes. This was the time Al Qaeda kidnapped me. There wasn't much left of them after that.
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I walked around Hell, the place is actually pretty normal. It is like Earth except instead of a nice blue sky and cool air, the sky is red and the air burns. However you are pretty okay with it since you are dead. I keep seeing people fuck up though. It is pretty embarrassing to see people do stuff like shit their pants in public and lose their job (yes we have jobs in Hell, what the Heaven are we supposed to do?). I don't understand why people here keep fucking up, nothing bad ever happens to me here. I go to work and go back to my barracks. I haven't even tripped and fell here, yet all these people, especially girls in skirts, trip on nothing and fall. Sheesh, why is everyone in hell a clumsy mess? Am I placed wrong? Are all the people like me in Heaven? Oh well, I can't change it now.
Today I was just walking to my barracks as usual, and suddenly I was greeted by a sudden flame in front of me.
"Hello Satan. It's great you're here, I have had a question for you." I say as Satan steps out of his flames and dusts the ash off of him.
"Hold on Joe, I have some questions for you first." Satan says, he looks oddly frustrated. He snaps his fingers and we are both engulfed in flames and brought back to what I assume is Satan's house. It is nice and cool in here and the floors are a nice marble.
"Woah, you have A/C in here?"
"Of course I do, I'm Satan, but even I have working standards."
"If those are your standards, then why do we not get A/C?"
"Dude, you are in hell because you suck as a person, if you want fun you should have been a saint." He sighs. He brings me over to an area where I can sit and talk with him face to face.
"So what is it you want to ask me about?" I ask Satan, laying back in my chair and looking him in the eyes.
"Oh right," he says, obviously a bit flustered by my conversation, he doesn't seem to talk to mortals much,
"Did you ever have an embarrassing moment in your life?" He asks, sternly. I think back trying to think of something, anything.
"Uhh I think I puked on my mom's shoulder once at 2 months old?" I say, being able to recall stuff I had forgotten when I was alive.
"No no no, you couldn't help that, you were only two months old, I mean like anything that you were ashamed of for a year or more."
"I don't think there is anything..." I say,
"Yep nothing, zip, zero" I confirm after running through my memory again.
"That's impossible..." Satan says, dumbfounded.
"Do you even know why you are in hell?" Satan asks me.
"No, that is what I was going to ask you, why am I here?" I ask.
"Uhhhh," Satan stammers,
"I have to check." He says. He snaps away and back with a large scroll.
"Uhhh, Joe Normal the first, Joe Normal the second, oh here you are Joe Normal the fifth! You are here because you were sent by God himself?" He asks and looks up at me. I shrug, not even remembering my time in heaven.
"Can you ask God?" I ask, wondering what God is like, and why a nice guy like home would send me here, where I don't belong.
Satan sighs and snaps a phone to his hand.
"Hey God?... No I am not going to call you Dad for the hundredth time. Uhh yeah I need you to come here for a second, we have an issue. Okay. Okay. See you in a bit. Bye. I don't love you stop saying that! Urgh!" Then he slams the phone down.
"He will be here in a bit." Satan sighs, I didn't know Satan was so emotional. A few seconds later God poofs in from a cloud.
"Hello my son, and Joe." He says.
"God, why is Joe here?" Satan asks, clearly irritated. God motions for Satan to go walk with him, I follow along, since I am dead to know.
"Okay Satan, listen, Joe has never made a mistake in his life, he was a famous bank robber who always got what he wanted. He was brought to heaven, because he made no mistakes, but he couldn't stay. I got so much shit from the angels for having a bank robber in heaven that eventually I had to send him down. However he obviously is too perfect for here too." I hear. I do recall being a bank robber, but I never thought of myself as so awesome as God said. That is when I decide to pipe in after eavesdropping.
"Maybe I could have my own little place?" I ask
"Absolutely not!" Satan and God say in unison. Jeeze okay then. I see Satan whispering something to God, then him whispering back.
"Okay Joe, we have decided. You are going to be a grim reaper! If you still feel misplaced then report back to us in a month." I am happy with my answer so I leave to pack up and move places.
God then turns to Satan.
"What if being a Grim Reaper doesn't work?"
"Then we send him to purgatory, we don't have time to deal with people like Joe."
"Agreed." God says.
Edit: 2 letters
| 2017-07-23T10:52:23 | 2017-07-23T10:21:47 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Thousands of years ago your family was cursed for "a thousand generations". You are the 1,001st generation and only just noticed just how much luckier you are than the rest of your family.
EDIT: Had no idea this thing would get as big as it has. Thank you all so much! My first 5,000+ post, amazing!
EDIT 2: Now almost 7,500! Actually struggling to believe it. Thank you all again!
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######[](#dropcap)
You'd think it's a good thing, luck. Especially when no one in your family has had much of it. Your mother tells you stories of an ancestor who tried to trick a demon and failed. Your father tells you tales of uncles who never lived past the age of three.
And then there's you. You who didn't contract chicken pox at the age of two, and you who didn't die in a car accident at the age of five, and you who didn't light yourself on fire--somehow or another--at the age of ten. It's a rough lineage you're born into.
And so they tell you it's a good thing. Your friends and your family and everyone you've ever known.
Then you're sent off to boarding school at the age of seven to learn how to manage the family's financial assets, and it's the first time you realize that the eyes that have been fixed on you since birth aren't there because they love you, necessarily, but because they need you. And that's a wholly different thing.
When your drunk uncle asks you to place his bets for him for his lottery tickets, you can still smell the rancidness on his breath as he yells at you when he loses. You want to tell him, I'm not that lucky. I'm just...luckier. But you know he won't listen, and he'll forget that he lost next time and ask you to bet again.
Your mother tells you, you have the responsibility and obligation to help out the family. But you can't remember the last time she made you chicken soup, like Anna's mom made her when she got sick, and you can't remember the last time your father ruffled your hair, calling you kiddo. So you dream about it instead, the bitter taste of nothing in your mouth when you wake up.
Yes, everyone tells you it's a good thing. They look at you and think, look at everything she's got. Look at how much better off she is. They don't see the childhood you were deprived, the love you never received.
That's okay. Apparently you're lucky enough to avoid the pain, too, when you cough up blood at the age of twenty-two and die in your sleep, calmly. They say the ache of loneliness is the worst form of suffering on earth, and you, you are luckier than the rest.
*****
r/AlannaWu
Edit: Thank you, kind stranger, for my first ever gold!
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Let me tell you a story:
A long time ago, long before man had a name - before man *was* - the land and the sky were one and they were called 'Ākāśa'.
Wild creatures roamed through the mists of Ākāśa, both hunters and hunted. The black-maned Siṃhá, 10 hands tall, stalked the fleet-footed Ajinayoni through the long grasses that danced between the stars. Vyāghraḥ, striped in orange and black, preyed on the Mahiṣī as they drank at the stream of creation. And over them all stood the mighty Gaja, the scales of judgement hung from his mighty tusks.
Among the hosts of beasts slunk the sly Kapi, swinging silently from tree to tree, or knuckling along the knotted roots and undergrowth of the forest floor. He would often gather Narikela nuts for their sweet nectar, or to throw from dark places at proud Siṃhá. Using the fluted shafts of the velu tree and small round rocks from the river, he would pester strong Vyāghraḥ, tempting his claws and inviting his snarls. And during the long nights at the dawn of creation, he would hoot at the moon while the Mahiṣī slept below. The Mahiṣī would grunt and grumble before galumphing off to quieter pasture.
It was on such a dark night that Kapi, flitting through the shadows hunting mischief, caught sight of the mighty Gaja wandering the starry streams of Ākāśa. Gaja was troubled this night, and restless. His great white tusks itched in a strange way, as if a great storm was coming. Kapi paid no heed to Gaja's distress, and went about gathering small grasses and the fine fibers from the Narikela nut. Gaja, distracted, did not notice the shifting shadows of Kapi as the mischief-maker crept through the dark spaces among the stars until he sat directly beneath Gaja's great, long trunk.
Slowly, so as not to alert mighty Gaja, Kapi brushed the fine fibers of the Narikela nut just below the sensitive hairs of Gaja's nose. Seeing no reaction, Kapi brought the ticklish fibers closer to Gaja's long nose, wiggling them back and forth silently. Still, Gaja stood staring silently among the stars. Finally, Kapi added the thicker, bushier grasses to his bundle and agitated Gaja's long nose once more, and at last, with a loud bellow, Gaja let out a stupendous sneeze. So great was his sneeze that all the trees and grasses in Ākāśa shook from the force of it, even the very ground beneath Kapi's feet trembled before the force of the unexpected explosion. So great was the sneeze, that Gaja's giant ears flew up from his head, his tail blew around in a circle, and his smooth white tusks, upon which the scales of balance hung, vibrated painfully.
And the scales tipped.
Kapi was off in a flash, scampering through the darkness. Gaja let out a loud bellow, tramping the grasses in the field and setting the stars aglow. All the beasts of the world woke at his bellow, and came running.
'Who has tipped my scales?' asked mighty Gaja.
'Not I' spoke Mahiṣī.
'Not I' snarled Vyāghraḥ.
'Not I' replied Ajinayoni.
'Not I' roared Siṃhá.
But Kapi did not speak, for Kapi was not there.
'Where is Kapi?' asked mighty Gaja, 'Where is the mischief-maker?'
No beast replied, for they did not know. But Gaja could see through the darkness to Kapi's canopy, high in the Campaka tree, and Gaja knew what had been done.
'Mischief-maker,' called Gaja in a voice that shook the branches of Kapi's nest, 'will you come down?'
'I will not,' whispered Kapi.
'Mischief-maker,' called Gaja again, louder, 'Will you come down?'
'I will not,' said Kapi, still hidden in his tree.
'Mischief-maker,' called Gaja, in a voice that shook the stars from their places and made the darkness take flight, 'will you come down?'
'I will not!' screeched Kapi, standing upon his branch.
'Then you shall be cursed.' said Gaja in judgement, 'For driving balance from Ākāśa, for your terrible mischief among the beasts of the world, you shall be driven from this place. Vyāghraḥ shall hunt you through the trees of the forest, and Siṃhá will hunt you in the spaces of the plain. Ajinayoni shall chase you from your places of refuge, and Mahiṣī shall guard the watering holes and the mighty rivers.
And the Land and the Sky shall be rent in twain. And from the Sky will I watch over the Land, and from the Land will all the beasts of the world watch for the coming of you, Kapi. And they will hunt you, and your children, and your children's children, even unto one thousand generations shall they hunt you. They shall hunt your decedents until the scales of balance are again righted, and you have learned wisdom from your folly.'
And so passed the first moment of creation, and in the time that followed Kapi was hunted in the dark places, and in the open places. He was hunted on the ground and in the trees. And his children were hunted, and his children's children, even unto my own generation were we hunted.
But today, that story comes to an end. For today, for the first time in a thousand generations, the hunt will end. Today, the great Agni, son of Gaja, has brought unto the decedents of Kapi a gift. And the essence of Agni will let us break free of our curse after an eternity of time. And we shall call it *fire*.
| 2018-04-10T21:33:07 | 2018-04-10T21:06:03 | 1,258 | 152 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world.
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Everyone knows we are all born a little special. Some of us are very very big and strong, while others can be very very smart. We can go our whole lives not knowing whether or not we are growing, but knowing seems like a good place to start.
You see, I knew my little gift when I was very young. I was able to see the good in people, even if they didn’t know it was there all along. My favorite was reminding grown ups when they seem to have lost their way; my goal was to try to make them smile every single day. So this is my story and I’ll save the best for later. My name is Fred Rogers, won’t you be my neighbor?
EDIT: Oh wow! Thanks for the gold! I’m glad this brought some happy faces to people
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Humanity firmly believes it cracked the code on how our bodies function, think, and move. We receive inputs, sight, sound smell, feel. Those inputs are then sent to the brain as electrical signals where they are processed and sent out to various muscle groups to create movement. There is a small delay between input and output, fractions of a second, but for nearly everything a person will encounter in their life this delay is inconsequential. However, there are times when the delay is too much, and this often results in death.
My body is a different story. For some reason, it just seems to know what is going on and what is about to happen. I didn’t think much of it as a kid, I never lost a game of dodgeball but I just assumed my classmates couldn’t throw very well or that I was fast for my age. Things started to change during high school. Like most young teenagers I was enthralled by the popularity that came with a spot on the football team. At this point, I wasn’t exactly a macho man, but I wasn’t scrawny either, so I figured I’d give it a shot. My throws weren’t spectacular and i couldn’t kick a ball through the goal post to save my life, but when it came time for receiving drills, if I got my hands on the ball, nothing could stop me, I was weaving through varsity players like they were air. The rest of my schooling went well, I even got offers to play for high profile colleges, then for NFL teams and life was good well into my 30’s.
I was doing well in professional football, even settled down with a lovely wife, Lucy, and a beautiful baby girl, Asha. We were asleep when it happened. Three men each armed with a shotgun slipped into our house in the dead of night. They hoped to get away with the standard fare, money, jewelry, electronics, you know the deal. I found myself out of bed as they entered, Lucy still asleep with Asha in her crib on the other side of the wall. After I triggered the silent alarm, I woke Lucy up and told her to get the baby and wait in the safe room until the burglars were gone. As we slipped through the hallway, around the corner came one of the men, Lucy screamed, he fired and they were gone. The pellets all seemed to miss me but they found their marks on Lucy and Asha. As the police arrived the men went out the back and began their escape. The police eventually caught them, but I didn’t care, everything in my life that I cared about was gone. The worst part wasn’t that my girls died, it was that I didn’t. I could bare to live in a world without them. I quit the NFL, I drank myself to sleep every day for 3 months and everything culminated on a cold february night with an empty bottle of cognac on the ground and a shotgun in my mouth. I pulled the trigger and as it fired my head had already moved to the side to dodge it.
I finally realized what made me special my whole life, I could move without reacting. I spent the next year trying to push myself into as many potentially fatal situations as possible, robbing banks, stealing from the police, even ransacking military installations. No matter the firepower I was up against, it seemed I could just walk straight through the bullets, my body read their movements exactly. I was ready to risk it all, July 18th 2028 I walked up to the white house lawn and went over the fence. Armed with nothing more than an AR-15, I walked through the gun fire of a small militia, through the doors of the oval office and shot President Schwarzenegger right between the eyes. They could do nothing to stop me and I had every means to end them, permanently. As word spread across the world, some nations fell into line immediately and others required some nuclear persuasion. But by 2035, the world was mine and no one and nothing could stand in my way. I ruled until I was 68, growing more benevolent as I aged realizing that for all my abilities, I couldn’t bring back Lucy and Asha, but I could make the world a better place so no one else would need to go through what I did all those years ago. As I walked towards my bed, something felt strange for the first time in my life, I had searing pain in my arms and then no feeling at all. I grabbed my chest as a i fell to the floor, quickly realizing what was happening: a massive heart attack. All my life, my body could avoid any danger, but it couldn’t avoid itself.
| 2018-06-30T14:18:25 | 2018-06-30T12:48:48 | 679 | 457 |
[WP] The Scooby gang finds out that they have powers to turn monsters back into humans, which coincidentally looks like they're unmasking someone.
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"Shaggy be careful!" exclaimed Velma, "this monster is even stronger than any we've faced before!"
"Well zoinks, looks like I'll have to use at least 2% of my power this time" Shaggy uttered. He proceeded to glow white hot enveloping himself in an aura. The monster responded in kind, powering up as well. The Scooby gang proceeded to look on in simultaneous awe and terror. Shaggy unleashing blinding light from his body, his hands beginning to emit flames. He cupped his hands together and the flames converged into a molten orb of sheer power. "Like, take this!" cried Shaggy as he forced the orb forwards and into the monster's being, it's very soul.
For a moment, the monster staggered, but much to even Shaggy's surprise, it returned to its feet!
"Heh, so this is the power of the legendary Super Shag! Not bad, not bad indeed!" the monster robustly remarked.
Shaggy chuckled. "Oh, so you like thought that was the power of the Super Shag? Zoinks, I can't believe you withstood just 10% of my power level! Well if it's Super Shag you want, like, it's Super Shag you're gonna get!"
"Raggy rait!" Scooby suddenly cried. "Reat rhis to restore your strength first." "No thanks Scoobert," replied Shaggy, "I'm not gonna pass up and opportunity for a real challenge!"
With that, Shaggy decided to surpass the threshold of 100% power, reaching a staggering 9001% strength! With all the energy welling up inside Shaggy, he was left immobile, and the monster saw an opening to attack! "Leaving yourself vulnerable at a time like this? How foolish! Eat this!" the monster cried, as it proceeded to throw a megaton punch.
Suddenly, the monster found himself unable to move his fist. He looked down, and saw Shaggy holding his punch back without effort.
"You didn't really think I was going to leave myself so exposed even at this power level, did you?"
Super Shag had emerged!
"And now, with the powers invested within me, I shall turn this creature of the night back to flesh and skin!"
Shaggy gripped tightly onto the monster's fist, forcing all of his power into it with the hopes of overloading the creature. This was Shaggy's ultimate power, the Scoobert special. By giving a monster too much power, Shaggy would be able to force it to escape back into human form to avoid dying from the power surge, undoing the curse upon it.
Shaggy's eyes glowed as they met with the monster's eyes, the two piercing gazes in tandem. With that, Shaggy took advantage of the distraction to force their other hands together, speeding up the process. At this point, Shaggy's very soul managed to purge the monster's skin, and both Shaggy and the former monster descended back to the floor gently.
​
"Ogh........ what happened?"
"Right then gang, let's see who this monster really is!"
Fred proceeded to remove the shriveled monster skin, unveiling the poor victim within.
"The mayor of the city?!"
The mayor forcibly retorted "And I'd have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your dog!", despite having no idea what they had done to him, or why he was so angry at them all of a sudden.
​
As with all the humans freed from monstrous curse, gang pretended they were the perpetrator of the latest mystery, as the police took him away. 'Twas a ruse invented by Shaggy's powers to keep the Earth far from any larger threats that sought to challenge him. Even so, new challenges await on the horizon. What will happen next? Find out, on Scooby-Doo Z!
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‘Next stop union station!’ The conductor called out.
Buffy was already waiting at the door. She tapped her foot impatiently this train was not as fast as European trains and she hadnt been able to sleep the almost 6 hour ride. She didnt feel tired though, she had a mission.
What happened replayed in her head for what felt like the 500th time, Willow had been working on something for the past year and she wouldnt tell anyone about it just that ‘its gonna blow your mind’
While buffy and xander thought this had meant some magical form of LSD or something what she finally showed them was very different.
Buffy had immediately left for LA, taking a vial of the pearl liquid willow created. She took it out of her pocket to quell a momentary panic that it might have been lost in a train seat. It shimmered in the sunlight. Layers of liquid swirled around each other, constantly moving no matter how still she kept her hand. Satisfied she pit it back on her pocket.
The train slowed and people started getting up moving towards where she stood by the doors. The conductor announced the destination more time before the train rolled into the station.
Buffy jumped down, and onto the platform as people bustled around with there bags and greeted their families. She had no bags as she had left immediately after willow had showed her what the potion could do. She exchanged a look of knowing with willow and willow had handed her two vials, ‘for just in case one breaks’
Xander had shouted after her ‘come on Buffy, how do you know hes still even into you??’
But she hadn’t responded, she didnt need to she had to at least try.
She walked through the station to the taxi stand got in and gave the cabbie the address, and told him shed double the fare if he got her there as quickly as he could. She was tired of waiting and her stomach was starting to feel queasy.
The cabbie happily obliged it was around 4 in the morning so the traffic wasnt terrible and he got her there in what felt like no time. She stood outside an old factory building, there was a large sign in red painted lettering ‘Angel Investigations’ above the entryway.
She walked in to find a large waiting room with a receptionist desk and a pretty redheaded girl, she looked up and smiled saying ‘welcome to angel investigations how can we help you tonight, demon vampire or just plain human monster we cover it all!’
Buffy smiled ‘I need to speak with your boss’
‘Righto’ said the girl and picked up the phone ‘youve got a new client’ nodding she said righto again and hung up.
‘He says you can go through’ she pointed to the doors to the left of the room.
She opened the doors to a hallway and walked down it, on her right was another set of doors, she went through them and found a massive hall with concrete floors and old factory windows lining it. It was a workout room. There were two people sparring in the center. Angel was walking towards her.
She met his gaze he looked non pulsed, ‘hi’ he said ‘I wasn’t expecting you’
She was shaking and her stomach was in knots. I came to give you... to give you this she held up the vial. Angel stepped back ‘holy water?!’
She laughed ‘no! Its uh its something willow worked out, if I remember how it works correctly, itll remove the mask that is the demon that sits on your soul? She was very specific but I was never good at the chemisty stuff...’
Angel stared.
She tried bluntly ‘itll make you a human again.’
Angel shifted his gaze the the vial but said nothing, her hand was still shaking.
And I figured since you told me about how you’ve gotten rid of the evil high and mightys and Willow made sure I never have to slay anything again if I didn’t want to you could... well we could...’
Angel shifted his gaze to her eyes his look was unfathomable.
‘Not that I would stop but maybe cut down a couple nights a week... one night a week... and you could still...’
Angel looked back at the vial.
She waited a minute before saying ‘ say something, anything’
‘I we tried this before I...‘
‘What?’ She said confused
‘...cant do this again’ he stepped back with a pained face
She was confused ‘I...’
Gunn was walking over ‘hey slayer’ as he sauntered up
Gunn read the room, ‘so whats goin on here? Somebody else die?
Angel answered ‘She brought me a potion to turn me human again’ not looking away from buffy.
Gunn looked surprised he raised his eyebrows ‘seems like thats your shanshu prophecy in the flesh, just didnt think it would be delivered this way, thought at least there’d be lights and you'd float or something...’
Angel looked at Gunn ‘I cant, I’
Gunn looked at angel with annoyance ‘why not? You saved LA, you made those lawyer demons flee, you dont think you deserve this?’
‘My strength my powers’ angel muttered
‘If you havent learned from at the very least me that you can be human and fight demons I will be offended. Youve earned this and this is the PTB giving you what you always wanted’ Gunn shrugged.
‘What about Spike?’ Angel asked buffy
‘Theres more vials, actually Im not sure how many others there are willow just had these two left after she tested it on a wearwolf’ she took the other out of her pocket and showed it to him.
‘Shanshu for two!’ Gunn said
Angel turned and turned back what do I have to do?
‘ Close your eyes’ buffy said
He stood gazed at her and shut his eyes
She opened the vial and splashed it on his face, it started smoking and angel screamed, Gunn ducked out if the way, ‘slayer are you sure this is how this works!?’ He yelled
There were other screams terrible blood curdling screams now Angel arms had been yanked to the side as if crucified he opened his eyes and beams of light shot out, his body glowed and the beams of light started to shoot out around his head.
Buffy reached up and yanked at the top of his head. She pulled hard, angel screams ringing in her ears ‘Its almost over!’ She yelled. She kept pulling fighting to pull the demon off. Suddenly she flew back and a full skin of the demon landed on top of her.
Angel stood for a moment and then collapsed to the floor. Gunn stood up, ‘Angel?’ he sounded worried he went over to check on him he was nakid and crumpled on the floor, Gunn took off his button down shirt and draped it over him.
Buffy pushed the skin off her face, it was hot and steam was rising from it ‘Oz was much easier she panted’ this thing was really on there.’
Gunn looked at her incredulously
‘Is he okay?’ She asked struggling to get out from under the flayed skin
Gunn looked from angel to her ‘hes breathing’ he said astounded.
She walked over covered in demon goo
Angel panted ‘Buffy’
‘Im here’ she said as she knelt down. she stroked his hair and they met each others eyes.
He reached for her hand and finding it, said ‘I love you’
...LOL
Edit: gosh thanks for the gold its my first!
| 2019-03-17T11:05:09 | 2019-03-17T09:29:31 | 55 | 25 |
[WP] It is year 2100. All the species on Earth have been wiped out. The United Federation has declared a intergalactic auction for all the items on the planet before it is broken down for minerals. One strange item received the most amount of bids.
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“Citizens of the United Federation, welcome to the ‘Earth Auction’!” the auctioneer announced to a massive dome, filled with aliens of all kinds, sat neatly in rows, a glass ceiling above providing a view of the rocky Earth landscape.
“Now of course, we were all sad about the events of The Flash. That sorry day when a terrible solar flare wiped out all species on this planet. But this doesn’t mean the leftovers should go to waste, ay!” There were murmurs in the crowd.
“Of course not! Right then, to business. Our first item is a rather lovely decorative piece. Vibrant, self-sustaining. The locals loved these; they would have thousands packed together just to look at them. They are called…”
The auction continued. Many items were presented, such as a “wheelless transport device, mind the exhaust from the other end…”, and a “tracker device, charming but easily confused, may climb up its owner…!” Before, finally, reaching what would become the big item of the night.
“Now then, for the final item of the evening, we have a bit of a mystery.” An intrigued din rose among the crowd.
“Though we here at Earth Auction have the finest experts in the galaxy, none can agree on what this item was for. Soft and visually appealing, yet quick to hop around, its designation is-”
“BANG, BANG, BANG!”
The crowd grew riled up by the intrusion, but the auctioneer did their best to calm them down.
“No need to worry folks. Its just the planet’s old, automated defence system, ‘Humans’, I believe they’re called. I assure you, nothing in this system can harm us here, since that solar flare’s EMP deactivated the locals.” The crowd was swayed by the auctioneer’s words.
“Good, now let us begin the bids for this lovely ‘Rabbit’, and after we will take a break. You can try a local delicacy called ‘oil’ and download a fascinating book on Earth, written by me, into your cerebral cores! Ok, let’s start the bidding for the Rabbit at…”
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"Ahem....is this speaker on? It's working? Alrighty!! Welcome multi-liforms of all corners of the universe. Thank you for taking the time for coming to another intergalactic auction!!" The announcer appeared to be a blue skinny alien with a what looks like a blue tuxedo with a red bow. Its massive kalido scope eyes looked with vigor and excitement as the other lifeforms clapped or cheered. The announcer continues
"today's auction is a very special one. Today's planetary sponsor and offer is none other than the United Federation! As you know I speak a bit of their planets back story before we start any intergalactic auction. Down here in the omega quadron is a small blue planet 3rd from the star of kikan. Most of you know it as deltora 4-7-3. To the inhabitants who made the United federation it is called Earth. By the year 2035 they began their space embarking toward the stars." The announcer showed a floating large screen with pictures of the star links space shuttles breaking the atmosphere. The slide show continue as the announcer began to continue.
"They have entered as 237th species recognition to the daliath grand galactic counsel. They brought with them many strange and wondrous experiences, technology and designs that carved a corner stone in this universe. By 2079 the world was ravaged by it's own elements and phenomenons. Disaster it spelled as they evacuated many of their species before most lost their lives. Deemed the planet to unstable for its inhabitants to live on,. They announce the planets resource extraction under the planet mining codex. As the intergalactic auction act under the planet mining codex, article 12:78 under the 12th paragraph, we are here to salvage and sell the many and wonderous items they left behind with permission from the United federation. And with that out of the way. The 275th planetary auction is now officially open!!!" The announcer finishes his speech only to recieve a roar of cheering and clapping audience.
They began to process many things, a few things like old album records sold at a majority of half a billion credits due to humanity's idea of bringing their music that is seller. Even the term singing idols still has many meanings into this galactic frontier. Weapondary were mostly bought up by war forgers, profiteers and collectors. But one stood out the most. After mostly everything was either sold or thrown into the incinerator the last item was presented under a curtain.
"Ladies and gentlemen, multi lifeforms of all kinds. It has been one of the most eventful and, to my experience, the best auction we ever had. But now I have 1 more thing left. The last item. The very word that is the representation and the core of humanity. The bidding will start at 300 billion credits." As the announcer dropped the pricing before even showing the item startled and caused a bit of a excitement electric atmosphere. This was the first time in its auction history that the pricing was announced first before the item showing.
"This was the prime of humanity engineering ingenuity. Before they came to us to improved their stasis pods to space travel, this little gem has made itself in secret. Buried within a bunker in the mountains of the coldest depths of the state of montana, a hidden cryogenic pod is indeed impressive but the item inside this item is unbelievable. I give you. The last auction item. A year 2040 cryogenic pod with a pure blooded human!!" He pulls the curtains and it reveals a cyro pod with a what looked like a shape of a human with its icy chamber. Pure blood are very rare in this universe. Since alot of species have intermingle with each other they have alot of mix race within them. Everyone gasp at the item. Some of the human officers were about to jump in and secure the cryopod but their ear pieces lit up with the head of the United federation.
"We cannot interfere, we...basically sold its rights to the galaxy. We cannot breach the contract. Stand down." A few looked very uneasy and a few officers growled in anger.
"600 billion credits." There was a collective of gasp came from a spider human hybrid. A slave trader who collects the one who are in debt in exchange for hard labour. Mr. Soul was his name. His disfigured face between a human and an arachnid licked its jaws with glee. "To add to my collection"
"900 billion credits." A solid voice spoke out with earn a harder gasp than the last one. The cybernetic mr. Soul looks in anger only to switch from suprised to feared.
"E-Emperor callious!!! And his empress amelia!! What are you doing here!!!" He looked surprised.
"The royal family always attend to this." He gave a cold stare at Mr. Soul. His large figure covered in a black and red coat. His horns as black as night and his eyes a red as blood. After the announcer regain his composure he began the countdown.
"A-and a generous offer from the emperor of zigal-prime! Going once" he counted. The hybrid spider sits down. Gritting his teeth in anger but does not want to make an enemy of the emporer.
"Going twice" he counted again and no one raised their hand and to outbid him.
"Sold to our magnificent ruler callious of zegil-prime. And that ends put auction with a bang!! Thank you everyone for coming." He ended it and everyone applaud. Some began to leave while other stayed behind a bit.
"Are you sure?" The rules empress looked at her husband with a look.
"It will be fine." He assured her. Who knows what will happened but the auction came to a close with a very profitable success. Only time will tell what happens now.
| 2020-11-23T06:57:43 | 2020-11-23T06:42:06 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] She is in every meeting, ever war room. She is present in every diplomatic discussion and her features are always hidden by a black shawl. She has served ten kings and never ages. Everyone fears her. You have just been coronated as the new king and she has requested a private audience.
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My father had called her the crone, my grandfather had called her the mother. I called her timeless. Officially she was called The Watcher, she was a function of our religion. Women didn't have the power that they did on other nations, despite being the only conduits of our gods. The Watcher was the direct link to the Gods, she never spoke, she never showed her face, she was never seen outside the shadows.
My grandmother had told me she was the embodiment of death, a reminder that judgment will be passed in this life or the next. As a royal and future king the laws were more lenient on me. The Watcher made sure I knew there was a higher power to cast judgment over my decisions. The physical embodiment of a conscience.
My father had died, and my coronation had gone without a hitch. My father had fostered a era of peace. There had been less need for fractious negotiations of peace, although trade meetings were no less boisterous. The Watcher had been there quiet in the shadows. As a child I had often sat with her, and had added comfort to her space. A chair, and an soft padding for the chair. I had meals delivered, not that I ever saw her eat. As I aged I became more aware of what she was. Her body never radiated heat, but was definitely female. Slim and young, her clothing was layers of fine thin material, it showed everything, while also hiding it all.
I had been moved to the negotiation table as a youth, expected to learn the craft, but she had never been far from me. The Wathcet had attended my weddings, the births of my sons and daughters. The funeral of my mother and father, my siblings and their children, my first wife - lost to fever, and my second lost to the birth of my youngest. I had been the first king in 5 generations to ascend without a queen.
The Watcher had asked for an audience with me, her note coming on black paper written in silver. For a woman who never spoke she knew how to make her words count. I had agreed letting her know she could come to my private quarters after the sun had set. I would be waiting in my study, I had been reading correspondence- mostly congratulations on my new crown and condolences on my father's death. A passing that had not been a surprise but had hurt none the less.
In heard the cloth moving and knew she had entered my study, although I had not heard a door opening or closing. I turned to see her standing next to the couches, gesturing for me to sit. Following the direction I did as asked. The Watcher sat across from me and lifted her veil
A voice rippled out of her youthful face, young and pretty, she took my breath away.
"You see me as you wish, your father saw an angry wisened woman, your grandfather saw his mother, your grandmother saw the face of death. Who do you see?"
My voice cracked "My Daughter"
The Watcher laughed her voice rich, it felt as if all my daughters were laughing at once
"Its time you knew the truth of me and this kingdom. And the importance of what we must do." Her voice held the weight of destiny, and the lilt of a child. This paradox buried me in the weight of the world and I took it gladly.
|
##Power Behind the Throne
I walk down the stairs of the tower. The sunlight from the hatch is replaced by the torchlight. At the bottom of the stairs, there is a small iron door. I pull out the note that covered the keys. After my coronation, she approached me and handed me . It was the first time that I have ever interacted with her.
*My Liege*
*As the knew king, it is time we met. My chamber is at the bottom of the southwest library. Ask the librarian to open the hatch to gain access to the stairs. After descending the hundred steps. You will find a door. Open that door with the dragon key. The next door is the swallow key. The next door is the fish key. The final door is the bear key. After that door, you will feel a hand on your arm. Let the hand guide you to your seat. I will handle the doors.*
Her presence in the throne room was a consistent part of our history, and rumors about her identity were the basis of multiple stories. Was she a witch? A ghost? A hag? As a child, I tried to sneak up on her during my father's coronation. I moved a few steps towards her, and she shook her head at me. I was frozen in place. Today, my own daughter took several steps towards her only to be stopped by her condemnation.
Each key works as the letter stated. I wonder why this woman requires such a high level of security. After the fourth door, I feel a hand touch my arm, and all of the doors behind me shut. The room is completely dark; if this woman is not an ally, she could easily commit regicide on the new king. I feel the hand guide me to a seat. I sit down, and I try to find her black shawl in the dark.
"Stop turning your head, you will never find me," she says.
"You can't blame me for trying. You are a legend," I reply.
"My legend is derived from mystery and ambiguity. The more you know about me. The less power that I have," she says.
"And how many of you are there," I wait for her response.
"Just one," she says.
"No, you are lying. There are multiple of you," I say.
"You doubt me already?"
"Of course, I doubt you. First, the librarian had a secret hatch in the library. That implies that he is a part of the conspiracy. Second, when the doors shut behind us, I heard feet scratching on the pavement of the furthest door. Meaning that there is more people. Lastly, I have seen you change in size and shape. You try to hide it with the shawl and posture, but there is no doubt about it. So how many of you are there," Several torches light up around me; twenty-five women stand in a circle.
"Very good, my liege," the woman upfront says, "You will be a wise king."
"Was I the first to discover your secret?" I beam with pride at this question.
"No, you were fifth, and we purposefully left you clues," she says.
"That is what they all say," I reply.
"An arrogant and intelligent king are often the most short-lived because they will never be able to trust their advisors fully," she says.
"I trust my advisors because I know them. I am not going to trust the word of some women in shawls because of tradition. You have to give me reason to trust you," I say.
"You should trust us because we have power in the kingdom that you cannot comprehend."
I lean forward with great interest, "Do you now?"
"Yes, we are everywhere. We are always watching. We could easily turn the tide of the kingdom against you," she says.
"Is that all?" I laugh, "And I could do the same to you."
"How could you do the same to us? You do not even know who we are?" she says.
"I don't care. You are witches," I say. The door to the room is opened and my soldiers come marching into the room. The women in black start to panic, but they are all easily captured. The torches that they were carrying reveal that the room was nothing more than a large amphitheater. I stand up, and I look down. They could've given me a better chair. I walk over and pull the shawl off of the leader's head. I blink.
"I have no idea who you are," I say.
"Of course you wouldn't. I am a normal peasant woman. Kings don't bother to pay attention to us," her voice in the hood was deliberately monotonous. Unhooded, she lets herself become human again.
"You are right. I don't care about peasants, but I do care about witches," I say.
"We are not witches," she snaps back.
"Do you think anyone cares? Your ambiguous legend can easily be turned against you. I could say that all of you were planning on sacrificing me to some pagan god, and the whole kingdom would believe me over a peasant woman," I reply.
"There are more of us. They will find a way to destroy you," her threats become more empty as she tries to be threatening. A true threat comes from a person who does not try because their words are true.
"Threatening the crown. That is punishable by death. Besides, I don't need to know who is with you. When you are all publicly executed, I will make a speech about how witches have infiltrated the kingdom, and how everyone should be on the look-out for demonic women? I figure most of your numbers would be too scared by the proclamation to continue your mission. The rest would get caught," I say. Concern takes over as she realizes the full nature of my threat.
"Innocent women would get executed," she says.
"That is a sacrifice that I am willing to make because I won't even have to do it. It will be their friends and families who do it," I say.
"We have valuable information on the inner workings of the kingdom," she says.
"I don't care. Guards, take them away," I command. The women are all ushered out of the room. The captain remains and approaches me.
"Wouldn't you want whatever information they might have?" he asks.
"No, of course not, it would jeopardize my rule. As she said, I am wise and arrogant," I reply.
"Are you really willing to start a massive witch hunt over this?" he asks. I laugh.
"I have already done it. Now don't question me and carry out my orders," the guard leaves. I pull out the note. Years of seeing my father cower in fear of these frauds in black made me realize that he wasn't in control of the kingdom; they were. Their legend made people fear them, and they used that to acquire their power. By executing them, I will be the most feared person in the kingdom, and I will be the one with power. I smile and prepare to embark on my reign of fear.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
| 2021-01-29T16:19:35 | 2021-01-29T15:27:38 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] You live in a swamp, and your mama always told you "never go chasing any girls in the water at night, they're mermaids who'll get in your head and make you love them obsessively." It turns out that she wasn’t crazy, since you can clearly see a mermaid in the distance fighting off an alligator.
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So no shit, there I was watching a gator getting body slammed by a chick with a tail instead of legs. She was drop dead gorgeous and I could have stepped in and killed the lizard myself, but you don't get to watch a mermaid body slam a species as old as dinosaurs.
Aft she slammed it into a log, she let out a blood curdling scream as it tried to take her tail completely off, so I took aim and shot that lizard without hesitation this time. I could tell that she was in pain as she couldn't swim out to open waters without killing herself in my swamp. As I was about 20ft away, A spear almost took my head off, and is it wrong to be turned on by a woman who can kill you?
Anyways, I managed to get close enough to easily talk without, you know... dying. So I ask if she needs help, and without hesitation she snaps back with "Not if its from a beast like you." So I tell her that gator teeth are full a dangerous bacteria and other materials, and that she wouldn't survive tomorrow without help. For a single minute we didn't speak, until with her smooth voice agreed to my help. So I scooped her up, and started carrying her to my home. While heading to my cabin, I didn't notice that her tail was melting revealing legs, but they still were damaged by the gator, so I cleaned, and patched her up. For the three weeks that followed, we learned a lot about each other.
Now my mama, if she was still alive would be pissed as she always said "Mermaids will steal your mind, body, and soul with their devil songs." I never believed her, but she would be pissed to know that her daughter-in-law was a mermaid, and that son is how I met your mother.
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It was one of those moments that you couldn't look away from, you couldn't even blink, and you couldn't make a sound. You watched the waters ripple and splash along with the violent thrashing that came from the two intimidating creatures. One was a thick skinned bumpy brown and black alligator it's green eyes looked black and glinted with malice it's teeth gnashing with a vengeance and it's wide jaw that had always reminded you of a malicious grin felt foreboding. The mermaid was a splash of colors, it's murky grey hair was ridden with moss, plants and algae, their skin was a greyish green that shined and shimmered as they wrestled with the alligator, their eyes were green but the light of the sun made them look as if it was glowing yellow like a lantern in the night. Their tail was long sleek and was grey with splotches of different shades of dark green it didn't look smooth at all. The texture reminded you of sharks.
You're snapped back out of your admiring stupor when the mermaid's tail flails and hits you square on the chest knocking you back and pushing you into action. You scramble back to your feet flinching as each thrash of the large tail sent a wave of green water your way. The only thing you could think of grabbing was a rock, you spare it one glance and throw it as hard as you can in the direction of the writhing crocodile. Of course a simple rock doesn't affect the fight so again you try to find something that could help the mermaid but it turned out that it never did need help. The mermaid flung one clawed hand over the alligators mouth hugging it to a shut then ripping out its eyes with its sharp teeth. The alligator writhes even more desperately even more incensed by the pain or by the desperation of losing its sight it did not matter. Because the mermaid smashed its fist into the skull of the alligator and began to claw through the skin, the writhing and the thrashing was useless eventually the repeated blows and the gaping open wound that the creature dug into made the log like reptile still and the waves became ripples.
The mermaid whips its head around to look at you and you flinch at their alarming speed but nothing could make you run. There was a strange alien like beauty that came from the water creature, its bright green crocodile like eyes, its large sharp teeth, the arm that had a thin sleek fin and large black claws on each hand, and even the flat small nose and thick grey lips was mesmerizing to behold. It sank into the water it's eyes and the top of its dark hair were all you could see as they slowly made your way towards you. You couldn't help but kneel to get a closer look, to absorb all the details you were afraid you'd never see again.
"Hi-Hi..." You stammered arms quaking as the fear set in.
This was no fairytale and this was no story. It was you in a swamp with a creature that killed a crocodile with its bare hands and teeth and it was unscathed. What were you but another snack? Could they go into land? How fast did you have to run to be safe?
Although you were thinking all this you did not move. Your eyes were locked into their deep green reptilian ones. Eventually the mermaid's hand emerged and a small flash of fear went through you-were they going to claw your eyes out like it did the alligator? Nothing like it happened instead on the hand of the mermaid was a small regular rock.
"Oh-What? For me?" You said shakily taking the rock and you realized it was the same rock that you had thrown at the crocodile. It was not particularly memorable but you had just held it moments ago so its shape was no unfamiliar. "Thank-thank you... I guess..."
The mermaid's hand disappeared into the water and its eyes were still trained on you but you were sure it held no malice... it felt like... curiosity?
You summoned all your bravery urging yourself that there would never be another chance like this as you asked, "what's your name?"
The mermaid seemed to frown its eyebrows were thick and the same odd color of grey as their hair, the skin on their face looked as rough as their tail and their mouth seemed to jut outward. It reminded you of their bared teeth and their ferocity.
"Can you speak?" Again there was no answer only a small frown creasing their face.
Perhaps they could not speak, which made sense because they lived in a swamp and he doubted if they spoke to any other human.
The mermaid stopped looking into your eyes and instead noticed the shell that hung from a thin bit of abaca around your neck. They rose a bit from the water their nose above as they gazed at the nautilus shell. It had been a gift from your father from one of his many adventurous fishing trips in odd places. It was small barely the size of your palm. The mermaid rose again and touched the shell briefly but you flinched and it caused them to dash back into the water.
You couldn't help but to shout; "wait!" as the mermaid disappeared and the green murky water rippled.
You feared the loss of the beauty, of the ferocity and of the gaze of those reptile eyes and you clutched the rock it had returned.
If only you had the thought of taking your phone out you'd have some tangible memory of everything that had happened. But you did not and you doubted that you ever could.
| 2021-05-24T07:54:19 | 2021-05-24T07:46:26 | 41 | 21 |
[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.
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"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."
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"Who am I? Nobody, don't worry, I get that look a lot. Try not to think about it too hard, you'll get a headache." The woman staring up at me was shaky, not everyday you see a criminal just cease their own existence, all for a purse too. "W-where are you?" The lady was clearly in some sort of shock, I suppose it's scary for her, I'm not in their world, nor in another, just in between, she can only see me when she blinks, and out of the corner of her eye, must activate some primal fears buried deep within the human psyche. Oh well.
I walked her home, or rather, followed her there, she wasn't aware of my presence, or maybe she was and just thought it was some creeping madness, nice house overall, 3 cats, a perky family of rats living in the floor, probably due to the cats slacking off, one of the better looking homes I've seen in Trefoil Lane. I almost screamed with jealousy at the running water too. I am Nobody, some call me a myth, some say I'm a ghost, others, a hoax, but I am very real. Nobody hugs the corners of reality, of *your* reality, I live in the limbo between space, and I have access to a very neat set of abilities. Harry Crandon, also known as The Truth, put me in this unfortunate situation when I was 13, a childhood bully of mine since I could say my ABC's, a right and proper pain in the ass.
12 years ago Harry Crandon had unlocked some latent potential within his being, along his regular rounds of frisking for cash and bruising my ribs, he 'accidentally' erased me from reality. My disappearance wasn't looked into, Crandon was child of the city mayor, I was an orphan, my disappearance was treated as a runaway incident and I was never looked into. The upside is, I no longer have to eat, sleep, get a job, or buy a home, limbo has all I could need, but I've been meaning to get more out of my existence, or lack of it.
Crandon has committed a fair amount of evil in his life, I'm no saint, but this man would've earned his way into every watch list and wanted list on the planet if people knew, fraud, assault, murder, kidnapping, rape, drug distribution and procurement, robbery, all manner of human rights violations, and Jaywalking, all before he hit 21. A real piece of work, I never cared too much until he started acting the hero.
"The Truth. How rich." I stood upon the roof of West Street Cabaret, just caught Mr Truth in some pretty nasty acts of sexual assault, I'd stop him if it wasn't more evidence to add to the pile. "Bastard gives a speech in less than 3 hours, yet is assaulting people in a backalley and then making them disappear, I guess I'm lucky in the sense he was a lot worse at it when he did it to me." It was close.
"Great Citizens of Vernage City, The Truth is here!" Thunderous applause, wouldn't expect any less. "After years of toiling with corrupt political leaders, crime on the streets, and a whole heap of state debt, we have finally made his city something to be proud of!" Yeah, right, proud. "From this day forth, I, The Truth, your hero and protector, will vow to serve, and with the opening of Vernage's heritage museum, I will forever protect you as part of our history!" Huh, big man gave him a statue, can't say I expected that. Too bad it's all about to start crumbling down.
First, I fractured the sky, with a click of my fingers it all broke like glass, there was hushed murmurs from the crowd, they thought it was their hero making a spectacle. Then, I picked apart the statue, threw different pieces into other dimensions, and returned them, some pieces took on different materials and lighting, others shouldn't exist, looking at it too long would blind you I'm sure. The Truth stood there, he had no idea what was going on, I could smell his sweat from here. Now I have their attention, I'm going to make my entrance...
"Great citizens...I am Nobody, some of you know me, most of you don't, in life I was Simon Larion, an orphaned boy that resided within this cesspool of a city, bullied fairly often by a Mr.Harry Crandon. One day, he just erased me from reality, thinking me missing or dead, yet, here I am, before he became The Truth as you know him he was a villain and I am here to expose him." It difficult materialising into this reality again, I had to pull various elements into my body and break the laws of psychics approximately 120 times, but this would be my most glorious moment. A great golden man, stood at least 5 metres above every other man and woman, I felt real again, and I was powerful, far more powerful than The Lie. My first action would be to smash his statue, an action the masses below would understand much easier than everything else. Then, I would project each and every sin, catalogued through my eyes and stored somewhere absent in space, each fracture in the sky acting as a screen. The chorus of gasps and screams, how it felt so real.
I turned to The Lie, in the real world he would answer to justice, prison, jail, community services, perhaps a death sentence. But this is no longer their reality, it is mine. Fragmented across time and space forevermore, unable to die, I could've done this at any time, but to reveal all his sins before damning him to eternity, it was my therapy.
"Your villain has been vanquished...good citizens..." the gasps were no more, although there was plenty of shouting and tears. I suppose the city is mine, I've never really lived too much, The Lie has been my obsession for years. It would sure be nice to be a king.
| 2021-11-23T11:51:41 | 2021-11-23T07:21:20 | 109 | 75 |
[WP] In 2025, the mission Mars One is a full success. Upon arrival on the red planet, the astronauts notice some kind of cave, containing a single human skeleton – and four words, carved into a wall.
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**2025**
At the ripe age of 23, Dave Milkwater was the youngest astronaut to ever touch down on another planet. He squinted out the starboard viewing port of the Mars One spacecraft, the red expanse glared back, beckoning him forth.
"Dave put on your helmet, I'm about to depressurize the cabin" said Mark, checking his own gear.
Now Mark was a real hard ass, always on my case about eating jello in zero gravity. He said it gets stuck on the control panel, I say he's just a total square. At 46 years old, what else would he be? I bet he drives a Module 3 Prius.
"Don't worry Mark, I wouldn't want to die from all that scary *space gas*." I said, shaking my head.
"Dave.. you know that's a real thing right?" said Mark, "You will actually die if you don't wear that helmet."
See what I mean? Total square.
*Shhhhhk*. I click my space helmet in as the cabin depressurizes, the suit tightens to my skin. The airlock door shifts sideways slowly, heat fills the cabin as I check my vitals on my arm unit. It displays everything normally.
"I'm a 10," said Mark, crackling through my voice comm, "How copy Big D?"
Smile growing across my face, I poke Mark in the side. "Did you just call me Big D?"
"No Dave, are you 10?" said Mark.
"Yea 10 inches M-". He slaps his hand on my helmet, cutting me off.
"Alright, disembark then."
The cabin stairs touch down on the surface of Mars, kicking up dust into the air. Our boots clink on the steel rungs as we make our way to the ground.
"Split up," said Mark. "You take East, I'll go West" he ducks under the craft to the other side. "And for fucks sake keep your comm on."
**20 MINUTES LATER**
"Holy shit, Mark get here *now*" I said, pinging my position on the GPS. "You will not believe what I just found."
"I've got your position, on my way" His jet pack thrusters were audible through his voice comm.
Mark flew over the crest of the hill, touching down beside me. His jet pack kicked up a whirlwind of dust, I explained while it settled.
"So here I am just taking rock samples, and I stumble upon this cave." I said, sweeping my arm towards it. The dust has cleared, and the cave opening is visible. It's small enough that Mark has to crouch into it.
"It's dark in here, I think it opens up though." said Mark.
I kick his jet pack to give him a shove through the hole. He mutters an obscenity over the comm, and clicks on his flashlight. I crawl after him.
"This place is huge," I said, throwing out a light orb to illuminate the cave. The dark cavern came to life, awash in the orbs glow. A glint of light catches my eye across the cave. I walk towards it, glancing at Mark, he is examining the roof for something.
"It looks like there is some sort of mineral over here Dave, I'm going to get a core sample." said Mark, checking his suit. "Ah you know what, I think I left my kit on the ship, can I grab yours?"
I don't respond.
"Dave?"
"MARK THERE IS A DEAD GUY OVER HERE," I said. "THIS GUY IS *FOR REAL* DEAD."
Mark runs over, tripping on the rocky floor on his way over. I point at the skeleton.
"Wow, that's actually a dead guy" said Mark.
"You think so Mark? He is literally *only* bones."
"What is that orange thing in his hand?" Mark crouches down by the skeleton, beaming his flashlight at the object. "Is this ... is this what I think it is?" Mark holds the object up to me. "Is this a fucking *Kraft Single*?"
"There is writing on the wall right there, what does it say?" I said.
Mark reads it out.
"*This is ...*" He is squinting now, it must be hard to see. "This is ...", he brushes some dust off of the lettering. "This is **Nacho Cheese**".
"Woo! Yea bitch!" I said. I smack him on the back, and take my Kraft Single. "That's because its my cheese Mark, not yours."
"Are you fucking serious Dave?" said Mark, pushing me on the shoulder. "How did you even sneak a skeleton on board?"
"Oh, I actually found that here."
"The skeleton."
"Yeah the skeleton, neat huh?". And so there we stood, taking in our discovery. Well. My discovery, let's let that be known.
|
"So, please, one more time. From the top."
The inspector flipped the switch on the recorder to "on". Every few seconds it would emit a hollow *beep* to remind you that it was listening. Every word I said, recorded, analyzed, immortalized.
"As I said before, English is not my language."
The inspector corrected me. "First language, you mean."
"Ah, yes. Thank you. English is not my first language."
The inspector nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes had narrowed, focused now entirely on me.
"Some time ago, when we were crushing the west in the space race, a scientist by the name of Vigli Azmolatov, approached the party with a radial idea to improve space travel."
"Radical?"
I sighed in frustration. "Yes, *radical*. You are recording this, correct?"
The inspector leaned back and briefly looked at the one-way glass window. He leaned forward again as he replied. "Yes, we are recording. You know this. I already told you. Why do you ask?"
The irony of his irritation was amusing.
"If you are recording, please, could you stop correcting my bloody English every time it is not correct? It is, eh, very unfortunate."
He replied with a single nod before motioning with his hands for me to continue.
"Anyway, Azmolatov had this idea. We knew that Tsar Bomba unleashed power far beyond our ability to control on Earth. Even the party thought it's powere was too great. But Azmolatov, he was a smart man. He had this idea. This *radical* idea."
I paused for a sip of water. The inspector looked annoyed, so I took my time. Seven beeps before I put the glass down. Another three before I started talking again.
"He approached the party and said that space travel has major problem. First, rockets require fuel. Fuel is heavy. Second, travel itself takes a long time. It is slow. Finally, because fuel is so heavy, there is limited capacity for supplies, oxygen, people."
The Inspector interrupted. "Okay. Tell me what the Tsar Bomba has to do with that?"
I shook my head in annoyance. What an imbecile. He couldn't understand how to use a coffee maker, let alone the mechanics of space travel.
**Beep**.
"So. This radical idea? Use the power generated by the Tsar Bomba to propel the spacecraft to speeds unachievable with rockets."
The inspector started at me with this blank look. I swear if I could use my camera phone to take a picture, he'd be the next dumb guy meme.
He finally opened his mouth. "Right, so a bomb is what was used to get to Mars?"
"That is correct."
"So, to be clear: the Soviet Union, in the 1960's no less, figured out how to use hydrogen bombs as a mechanism to facilitate space travel?"
"That is correct."
"And it did this without us finding out?"
"That is also correct."
The inspector frowned. "I don't believe you."
I sighed. Of course he didn't believe me. Someone of his diminutive intellect is too myopic to look at the bigger picture.
"It's not as if we travelled to Mars in the 60's, Inspector. We simply knew how to do it."
**Beep**.
"Kita nagpuspus kaninyo dinhi." I crossed my arms and gave him the *Peter Griffin* look of achievement. You know the one: that smug look at satisfaction that is almost always a result of dumb-luck.
"I beg your pardon?" The inspector replied, clearly puzzled.
I repeated my earlier statement: "Kita nagpuspus kaninyo dinhi."
"What is that supposed to be?"
"The writing you found overlayed on the last four Curiosity rover images. The ones I can only assume your scientists at NASA assumed was a software error or a prank?"
**Beep**.
**Beep**. *Beep*.
"Inspector? Do you know the words I am referencing?"
**Beep**.
I leaned forward, filled with new-found confidence knowing that these idiots hasn't figured it out yet. "Okay, it seems as if my turn to talk has passed. Now it is your time. To talk, I mean."
I had never seen a man more confused in my life. I'd almost find it laughable were I not stuffed into a - **beep** - small "conversation chamber" with a man that, apparently, is incapable of doing anything other than asking questions.
"Okay Inspector. It seems you have lost your voice. Here, I'll repeat the words again slowly: Ki-ta, nag-pus-pus, kan-inyo, din-hi. Do you understand now?"
The Inspector leaned forward. His facial expression had become much more serious, if even a little foreboding. He clasped his hands together, tightly, and placed them on the table in front of him.
"As you are clearly aware, about a month after Curiosity landed we started receiving images back from the Curiosity rover that looked compromised."
I couldn't help but smile. I knew where this was going.
"As you inferred, we assumed that the images were intercepted mid-delivery and tampered with. This is especially true because the text that appeared over the images seemed to be little more than gibberish."
I laughed, loudly. **Beep**.
"Yes, BEEP. BEEP INDEED! You have recorded your own ignorance!" I proclaimed and jumped from my seat. "BEEP BEEP BEEP. So this is why I am here then? So you can record your own stupidity as you reveal to me the "gibberish" received from Curiosity?"
The inspector seemed taken back. His expression was still serious, but I could tell he was starting to get angry. His face was turning a new shade of red.
"Inspector? It is not gibberish! It is not gibberish! It is Azmolatov!"
"I beg your pardon? He's defacing our images?"
I slapped my forehead, hard. "Inspector? Kita nagpuspus kaninyo dinhi! Kita nagpuspus kaninyo dinhi! It is not gibberish, it is Cebuano!"
"It's... what?"
"Cebuano, you idiot! Over 20 million people speak it!" I started laughing uncontrollably. "The 'best scientists in the world' at NASA didn't figure that out? *These* are the people that the former Soviet Union feared so much?"
"Sit down!" The Inspector was visibly angry now. "Get to the FUCKING POINT."
I exhaled, slowly. **Beep**.
"Inspector, in English kita nagpuspus kaninyo dinhi means 'we beat you here'. It is a message from Azmolatov, who landed on Mars on August 5, 2012. He used a disposable spacecraft that detonated a single Tsar Bomba behind the moon on July 4, 2012."
**Beep**.
I continued. "He reached mars in 32 days exactly. The July 23 'solar storm' that hit your STEREO-A satellite? That was part of the electromagnetic shockwave caused by the bomb blast. The Skeleton your crew found? Azmolatov."
"Bullshit."
"Tell me, Inspector. Have the Mars One citizens even *looked* at Curiosity? Do your own scientists not recognize the text and distortion typical of a label marker using transparent tape?"
"Inspector. Is it so hard to believe that Azmalatov that your images are not being defaced digitally, and that is why you cannot remove the text or determine who is doing it?"
"Inspector, did you really believe that Putin would cause global chaos to 'protect' Russians living in Ukraine? Can you think of a better way to cover up the first interplanetary practical joke than with a global military crisis?"
**Beep**.
EDIT: your feedback very much appreciated. I'm trying to improve my writing so I've been trying to see if I can improve my spontaneous writing. I know it isn't the best, but suggestions for improvement would be well-received :)
EDIT #2: Improve. lol
| 2015-02-19T15:22:48 | 2015-02-19T14:18:09 | 99 | 40 |
[WP] Find a random post on r/TIFU and make an explanation for the title without reading the post.
|
TIFU by breathing fire
Okay let me first get this out of the way, being born half dragon is not easy. You see when my mother was out searching for the kingdom's lost treasure she wandered into the cave of a vicious and total asshole of a father, Steve.
The next part is something that I don't really like discussing but I feel the need to explain my half-dragonness... Let's just say it *really* burned when she peed. Anyways 9 months later she popped out and egg and in another 2 months I came out a toddler with wings.
Fast forward 25 years and there I am flying southwest, in coach of course, fucking assholes charged me for 2 seats because of my wings, racist bastards. Anyways I get up to drain the lizard when the stewardess comes by with the tray of drinks. Now me being the carnivorous guy I am I ate the new huge knight burger from burger king before the flight and a rumble suddenly hit me.
A massive burp came bellowing out my belly as she passed me and of course it caused my ignitor to kick in and I emersed a fireball the size of a basketball towards the tray. The tray caught fire and exploded killing 6 people.. So the plane had to make an unexpected stop in Arizona, so now I'm stuck in the God forsaken airport waiting for another flight.
TL\DR
If you have wings, use them.
|
TIFU by disgracing the housekeeping staff.
I was down at Coffs Harbour with my mates, it had been way too long since we went anywhere together and even then not all the lads could make it, so it was just the three of us. Their names aren't important and I don't want my identity revealed so lets just skip ahead.
We had rented a room at a resort, two beds in the same room between us, which makes it difficult to get private time, especially since we spent every waking hour in each other's company. Four days went by without even a stroke, the longest I've ever held it since I stayed over at my relo's. It was excruciating, I walked around with a boner almost 50% of the day and even the housekeeping maid, an overweight hispanic lady, started to look appetising.
The fifth day I convinced myself I had to let it go. It was exhausting dealing with the erections, which didn't make for a relaxing holiday. So, the plan was to sleep in and let my mates go downstairs for brekky while I yank the mango tree to the free previews they had on the adult pay-per-view. Yes, I don't need any longer than that.
As they left the room I made sure to wait a bit longer in case they forgot anything. They didn't. I switched on the telly, put on the adult channel and started goin' at it - speed was key, this needed to end fast. I quickly started to verge on a climax and it was at this point that the door knob started to turn. 'They're back already!?' I panicked, mid climax, I turned to find the remote, scrambling to press the off button. It was at this point that it decided to cum. I came all over the remote and a fair bit on the sheets. Shit. Just when my greatest weapon, premature ejaculation, had turned into my greatest weakness, I managed to turn off the tv despite the gunk on it. I then flipped the bedsheets over on the other side hoping the smell wouldn't be noticeable. I then rolled off the bed and hid underneath it, buck naked, and praying to shit I don't get found.
In walks these stumpy, fat legs. It was the hispanic cleaner. She stopped for a second and mumbled something foreign in a tone of disgust. As she started doing the other clean bed, I noticed the remote in front of me, glistening in jizz, lying there within an arms reach. Should I leave it and hope she doesn't notice? Or should I risk my cover? My mind raced, heart pounding, I tried to think but to no avail. She was too close, there was no way she could not see it once she got to my bed. As I panicked further, the maid had already finished with the other bed. I visibly see her stop in confusion, she kneels down to take a closer look at the remote. She bursts into a flurry of Español rage as she notices exactly what was sitting so gelatinously on the remote.
While this is all happening I'm wondering just how to get out of this, my mates should be coming back in a few minutes and I have no clue if she's going to be gone by then. My arms were starting to tire from holding myself up, so I repositioned myself. That was a mistake. She must have heard my arms scraping against the carpet because as soon as I did she stopped and slowly lowered herself. First her left eye, then her right appeared with the rest of her stone, cold face. It took a moment to process, but when she did she started screaming, flinging her arms wildly as she jumped back in horror. I don't know why, but I thought it was a good idea to come out and calm her down, maybe even explain myself. I was wrong.
As I crawled out of what to her must have been some black magic portal, she feel backwards and the remote she was holding onto, that she was cleaning, flew towards her face. The jizz splattered right across her lips and, as a bonus, sonehow during all this commotion the telly turned on to the last channel it was on - porn. She was sobbing, yelling and screaming at the same time. Here I am, my hose still dripping, a maid in front of me with my product, a tv blaring lesbian porn.The noise attracted other staff to the open door in the hallway, I just couldn't move, I didn't know what to do. A family of four passed by, the parents trying to protect their kids' innocence. My mates were also there, laughing the hardest I've ever seen them.
I soon after apologised and explained what happened to the management. It seemed they had trouble keeping a straight face too. She was still in shock and I was told not to approach her, so I wrote a letter instead hoping she could read it or have it read to her. I felt horrible. The resort staff left it at that and I never heard from the woman again. And I'm sure she's glad to see the back of me, or rather, glad not to see the backside of me.
| 2015-04-13T00:36:00 | 2015-04-12T22:55:41 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You are greeted by two of your children from the future, each from a different timeline. You must decide which timeline to follow and which child to give up.
|
I thought I was dreaming. I thought that it was another one of my wierd dreams, so I jumped as hard as I could. Usually I get to fly, in my dreams. But this time I came back to the ground rather quickly and almost lost my balance.
"What was that?" One of the two boys asked.
Embarrassed, I said nothing.
"She always was a weird one." The boy in the wheelchair chuckled, he pushed a disfigured hand forward and the chair rolled closer to me. His head was tilted slightly left. He smiled, but it only made me more uncomfortable.
I thought about how much of an asshole I was for thinking that way.
"What are your names?" I sheepishly ask.
"I'm Xavier." The boy standing said.
"I'm also Xavier. But dad calls me Mister X. It's ... our joke." He murmered off, jestering towards the wheelchair.
"Oh." I stood, and fiddled with my sweatshirt pouch. I was going to ask what's up, but Xavier interupted me, "We're your sons.. Mom."
"No.." I sang, amused by the dream, "you're like maybe 15. And I'm almost 20. So.. no." I smiled awkwardly.
"We are. You'll remember this later. If you choose me, that is." Mister X said. I was confused, but somehow I understood what they meant.
"Choose? Aren't both of you my sons?"
"Yeah but no. I'm your son, Mom, but you'll only have me if you go on that trip with dad. That's where you'll forget your birth control and literally say 'fuck it, I'm on vacation.'" Xavier rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, "Dad wasn't so sure, but he really loved you. And he really does love me. He's good to me."
"But in a different timeline, you are a little more... responsible, no offense, Mom. And you wait until your 26 to try for a baby. You have me." Again, Mister X looked at the painted joystick on his wheelchair. "And we love you.. right?" I get nervous and wondered why I'd ask something so shitty. I've never been the patient type, and I've always been a supporter of Darwinism. Maybe this was some sick moral payback.
"You love me more than anything. You and Dad always take care of me. But times are really hard. I cost the family a lot of money... you and Dad cry a lot. You two fight. It's hard to watch. I dont think either of you are happy. I think its my fault." His words choke me.
After a moment of silence I get the courage to speak up, "so you both are saying I should choose right? Well, I can't do that. Such a cruel thing to ask of me.. I can't." Both of the boys become visibly nervous by my words.
"So you'll have neither of us?" Xavier asks in shock.
"No! I choose both of you. I want to hold both of you. I'll love you both." I say and open my arms. The boys come to me and hug me to the best of their abilities. Its a little awkward, but it feels good.
"Mom..." Mister X says in a shaky voice.
"What, love?"
"If you choose me, you'll die in labor." Xavier starts to cry, "you can't have both of us."
Sorry for any errors. I'm on a mobile... and that's my excuse.
|
Opening my eyes, the digital haze of the clock read 03:33. My heavy lids seemed to have only just shut, but the pungent static smell that hung in the still air made sleeping difficult.
"He's awake," a meek voice said, forcing my eyes fully open.
"Christ, no wonder he never paid attention to you," a deeper voice boomed.
I was too startled to even move, and suddenly my studio apartment felt even tinier than it ever had been. "I have no cash, my account is overdrawn, and-"
"My only worldly possession is that laptop," the male voice finished. "I know dad, you told me that story endlessly growing up."
"He always valued that laptop more than me," the female voice chirped.
Curiosity took over the basic instinct to hide, and slowly, I pulled the threadbare sheet down to my nose to peek over; there was a man, standing with a cool confidence, his almond smooth skin dressed under an extremely well fitted suit with peaked lapels, the shirt underneath unbuttoned to show far too much chest. His hair, shaved to the skin on the sides, was high, but not too tight, angled off to one side.
She was sitting in the corner, also almond skinned, her body closed off and her shoulders aiming more for the wall, her eyes with their dark circles looking over at the door, and anytime I caught her eyes, she looked away and muttered.
The man, increasingly looking impatient read my mind. "You're wondering who we are. Why we're here. The first part I'm certain, the second is a guess. This...thing," he pointed over at the woman, who I only now noticed had on a shabby, dirty sweater, with sores on her face, and what appeared to be track marks on her arms, "is your daughter. One nightstand, I think, is that right?" He looked over that woman who just sighed and receded further into her chair.
"And who the fuck are you?" My own confidence surprised me.
"I," he cleared his throat, "am Claude Marley II, your son." Claude seemed to stand taller.
"Bullshit, I have no kids, I don't even have a girlfriend."
"You will," the meek voice said.
"What's your name?" I asked
"Ellie." she said feebly; my grandmother's name.
I was at a loss. This was plainly impossible, but their faces were familiar with that familial quality that made me second guess everything.
"How?" Claude read my face, and the way he arched his single eyebrow was the way I did when questioning. It was like looking into a slightly distorted mirror. "What you're working on, the technology, will make you very rich. So rich, in fact, that I stand to become a trillionaire before 35. You ingrained in me a work ethic and left me your legacy, well will leave me your legacy, you're still kicking." He smiled, it seemed oily.
I looked at Ellie, and she only seemed to recede more. "He's right," she said, "you were all about your work, your technology. Your newest acquisition," as she spoke her voice got louder, more strident, "you always had time for everyone else, never any time for me." There were tears now, small riverbeds that cut through the grime on her face. "You even invented time travel and still you had no time! I'm sorry I'm not-" she looked at Claude who was scrutinizing his cuticles and shook in silence.
"Yes dad, you did. And you're doing the good thing by keep it in CM Industries. There is no patent, it's just in your head, and soon enough, my own."
I blinked slowly. The math had worked out with some creativity; first by not thinking of time linearly but by thinking of it as a graph, plotting points..."Wait, it works?"
"Yes, and there's a problem. Hence we are here. You don't move forward and backward, but sideways through an infinite amount of realities, some are synced with ours down to the electron at the tip of your nose, but some are delayed, others...the opposite," he trailed off in a way that made me want to ask more. He scratched his nose with a thumb, and I noticed the bracelet.
"So," I was taking a stab in the dark, "right now is a juncture where three or more of these realities are tied up?"
"And you have to make a choice to undo the knot." Claude said, again with this oily smile. "You will hire my mother, your wife, in two months. She will be your rock, will birth me shortly after, and will propel you to heights you can't imagine."
"Or, you will dismiss us and go to a bar next month to celebrate your first round of funding, and meet my mother, fuck her, and leave her. She will die in childbirth and you will be stuck with me." Her voice was so pained I got a chill. Claude rolled his eyes.
I was still speechless. "This knot...what exactly will it do?"
Claude sighed, "Dad, you're so much better than this. Basically as the inventor and having this moment in your life, it ties together realities in a way that will result in a singularity...of sorts."
"So I get why you're here, but why her?" I looked over, as she tried to pull down the sweater sleeve over the bracelet.
"I came to see you, I never do, I just wanted to know why...why you never..." she trailed off again, her voice cracking. "And I came here, to this, and he," she nodded in Claude's direction, "was standing there, well here."
"Basically dad, we're up shit's creek without a paddle."
"I think I get it," I had no idea what was happening, but the more they spoke, the more sense it made, or this was a very elaborate psychotic break. "And I think I know what I will do."
Claude was the first. He seemed to shimmer and take on a more ethereal quality, soon Ellie was doing the same.
"You son of a bitch," Claude began as he faded.
"Thank you," Ellie whispered as she faded as well.
I laid my head back down and looked at the clock: 3:43. I was thinking of the witching hour, and hallucinations, and how mental illness was ingrained in my genes. How much I would love to sleep, what the fuck just happened, what kind of father I would be...
**BANG**. It sounded like a gunshot, and startled me almost to my feet from my mattress on the floor. There stood Ellie and Claude; Ellie with shoulder length hair, assymetrical skirt under a finely patterned blouse, Claude looking like he just did, minus the greasiness. They both had slightly different bracelets on that glowed a cool blue.
"Dad," they both said, looked at each other and grinned.
"You need to come with us," it was Ellie speaking, Claude stepped forward his hand outstretched, holding a bracelet.
"You, well our father, just died and we have a knot to untangle."
I took the bracelet, still in shock. "Can I get dressed first?"
The Claude and Ellie looked at each other, then back at me standing stark naked and laughed.
| 2016-10-03T11:01:56 | 2016-10-03T10:53:19 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] An actually competent henchman manages to kill the superhero.
|
"CATATONIC! Your reign of terror ends here!"
"Muhahaha! That's where you're wrong Peacekeeper; I've become more powerful than you could ever imagine!"
"Surrender now, and I might go easy on you ..."
"NEVER!"
"Huh, then I guess it's time to KEEP THE PEA-"
*BANG*
...
"Sergei?"
"Da boss?"
"Did you just shoot our visitor?"
"Da."
...
"Sergei ... what did I say when I handed out the guns?"
"You told Sergei to not shoot himself in foot again."
"No no no, after that."
"You told Sergei that if he did shoot himself in foot, then he would have to pay for own medical bills."
"Sergei ... I specifically told you ... to only shoot ... at the walls and the floor. There was NO mention of bullets being directed towards the hero!"
"Da, but see ... Sergei thought maybe is good to save ammunition, so Sergei use one bullet instead."
...
"So, is Sergei get paid now, da?"
"No, nobody's getting paid! This has been an unmitigated disaster!"
"But costume man is dead!"
"I wouldn't expect you to understand ... you're just a thug, a crook, a crimin-"
*BANG*
...
"That one was accident, Sergei swears."
|
Mr. Incredible. The man, the myth, the legend. He was probably the greatest superhero of all time. Comic book heroes had nothing on his super strength, and together his his family of super's, they were able to keep the world a safer place.
Their biggest fight had yet to come. The Underminer, and his henchman "The Gardener" had just revealed their presence to the world.
Mr. Incredible knew he could not face them alone, and so he called on his family to help him. The fight was long and took place throughout the city, but finally they managed to overcome the Underminer and end his reign of terror. It turned out that the Underminer was once just a normal mole, until the Gardener was able to mutate him into a 50 foot monster capable of not only walking and talking, but of building a giant machine capable of burying entire cities under the ground.
After defeating the Underminer, Mr. Incredible told him family to go home. The search for the Gardener would probably take some time. He hugged his family and sent them home, kissing his wife goodbye and telling her to keep dinner warm for him so he could eat when he returned.
Little did he know that the Gardener was watching him this whole time. Few people knew Mr. Incredible's only weakness, but the Gardener had spent years obsessing over supers and their weaknesses, so that no one could defeat the Underminer. He served as the Underminer's planner, the person who plotted everything yet received none of the credit. But his time of being in the shadows had ended. Now that the Underminer had been defeated he knew he had to make a splash. He couldn't let his life's work be unrecognized.
Mr. Incredible searched the Underminer's dead carcass. He found a piece of paper in his pocket with an address. He figured it was probably the best clue he was going to get, and headed off in the direction of the address.
When he arrived, he found himself staring at a house. There was nothing special about the house, but he didn't want to just barge right in. He looked in the windows. No one seemed to be home. He cautiously opened the door and looked around. Nothing. He went from room to room, finding no evidence that anyone lived there.
He walked into the master bedroom and found himself in a room with hundreds of pictures. All of them were of his family. The Underminer must have been following him for years. He glanced around and saw pictures from every moment of his life going back three years. He glanced at one picture, and saw him sitting at his desk in the insurance office, looking miserably out the window. Another group of pictures showed his journey to defeat Syndrome. He wondered how in the hell that they were able to get so many pictures of him. It was almost like a movie, telling a story of his life.
He then realized there was a table in the middle of the room, with a photo album on it. He walked over and picked it up. As he looked through the book he began to get more and more stressed out. He began to breathe harder and harder. The book was pages and pages of pictures from afar of his wife cheating on him. Frozone, Gazerbeam, Gama-Jack. He continued to flip through the book faster and faster as he realized that his wife had slept with almost every single super while they were married. The pictures were not the only evidence. Text messages and emails littered the pages, all too vulgar for Mr. Incredible to even comprehend. He slammed the book shut and threw it out the window. It shattered and continued on for at least two miles.
Mr. Incredible realized that his chest was hurting. He was short of breath. He fell to his knees, vision straining, looking for help. As he struggled to breathe, he opened his eyes and saw the Gardener enter the room. He gasped out "Why?" and then returned to his struggle for breath. His chest pain was getting more intense by the second.
The Gardner stood over him laughing. "Every single super has a weakness. Some were easy to figure out, while others required a bit more work. You are so devoted to your family Mr. Incredible that I knew it would be your downfall."
Mr. Incredible gasped for air, but it was a loosing battle. Darkness was beginning to envelop him. He realized it was over. He would not survive.
The Gardener watched as Mr. Incredible took his last breath, and then went cold. The cause of death? A broken heart, triggered by the intense shock of realizing his wife was not the person he thought she was. The ultimate betrayal. Mr. Incredible was indeed the greatest superhero. His only weakness was himself. The Gardener dialed 911 and alerted the police that they would find a body at the address he was calling from. He would finally get the recognition he deserved all along.
**Thanks for reading. Currently working on a book based off a WP. Visit /r/theinfection to read it (I apologize if it consumes many hours of your life)**
| 2017-01-26T11:05:13 | 2017-01-26T07:20:45 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] "Marines dont die, they just go to hell and regroup", they've regrouped and now they're ready to take over hell.
|
"Hey, do any of you have any Jalapeno cheese. These crayons are a bit dry"
"Nah, but I'll trade you a forest green and royal blue for some M&M's"
"Oh yeah, sure!"
"Lol, fucking boot, never trade your M&M's."
"Hey, aren't we supposed to be conducting a raid tonight?"
"Yeah, idk First Sergeant just said we're on standby."
[Marines sit and twiddle thumbs for rest of eternity]
|
I slammed my heel into the throat of a...thing. I'd long ago learned to stop comparing them to animals or things back home. They were alien, these demons, they didn't belong - I blinked. Belong where exactly?
Another red thing with wings came at me and I grabbed its throat and slammed it on the ground. It gave a feeble cry and scratched weakly at me with its talons, but I barely felt it. What had I just been thinking of? Something, somewhere these things didn't belong, but what other place was there other than this field I was in? Perpetually red, just at the edge of unbearably hot with things constantly attacking me.
I frowned trying to focus, trying to think back. The red field, the fire, the demons, how long had i been here...and green. A color, green in the back of my memories. Something other than this accursed field. But as for the first time in eternity when my thoughts strayed from the field, the field still stayed.
I'd lost my focus for a moment, but a moment was all the creature needed. It wrenched free of my grip and smashed into my chest knocking the breath out of me. I fell on my back and the creature jumped to me its fangs bared...
I wasn't afraid, really. In some corner of my mind I'd always wondered what would happen when I finally fell - there was no if about it, it was only a matter of time.
So my eyes were open when I saw the creature's head jerk sideways and its limp body fell against me. It spasmed once and then was still.
I pushed the thing off me and stood up, and saw the source of the shot. There was another man. Dark hair, darker eyes and built like a statue. Two arms, two legs, one head. No wings. Not a thing, but a man. Like me. With a sudden start I realized that I was a man. He was holding something in his hands, a tube of some sort with a handle...a rifle. He was holding a rifle.
"Lieutenant Gravers, I take it?" he said.
He looked at me as if expecting me to reply. "Y..yeah," I said, surprising myself. I had long since forgotten, but some part of me I suppose knew my own name still. My mouth felt dry, and my tongue felt like it was covered in rust. When was the last time I'd spoken?
The man nodded and ground his teeth. "I've seen it hundreds of times now, but the inhumanity of it..." he said.
"Of what?" I asked, a little too sharply. It was nice to speak again. Wait, when had I spoken before?
He looked embarrassed, he probably hadn't intended me to hear. "Nothing, nothing," he said with a not too casual wave of his hands, "But I have one question for you - do you want out?"
I blinked, stunned for a moment. Out? Out of where?
As if reading my mind he continued, "Out of here, hell, of silence, of forgetting, of fighting. Well," he quickly amended, "not fighting. Not yet anyways. But out of here, and maybe, just maybe back home, to Earth."
It was like a code to a vault. Memories flooded back through me. Food, trees, water, Jenna, her smile, her eyes. And other memories came too, fire, heat, bullets...death.
I was shaken out my reveries by a howl that pierced my ears, my head, and seemed to resonate inside my chest cavity. I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.
The man grimaced. "He's found us again - getting better it seems," he said. "Now quick, are you with us?"
I laughed. To stay here, fighting demons, or have a chance, the smallest chance of something better. Really, it was no choice at all.
"Hell, yeah," I said.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2017-09-13T12:10:13 | 2017-09-13T11:28:49 | 419 | 145 |
[WP] When the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. "That's impossible", you said. "Unfortunately, it's the truth, miss", answered the policemen. "It's impossible", you said again, "because he's in the kitchen making dinner."
|
"Ma'am, we have confirmed the identity with photo identification." Sergeant Miller took off his hat and thought for a moment. "Forgive me if this sounds insensitive, but have you ever seen your husband make dinner before?"
"Well, no. But you've got to be mistaken," I replied. "He's in the kitchen right now getting flour all over the counter. Can't you smell the roast cooking?"
Miller stepped one foot into the door, obviously trying to smell what I was describing. He stepped back out and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but can you identify the man in this picture?" He held it up in front of me, and on the screen was a picture of my husband lying on the pavement surrounded by glass - his face covered in blood. I gasped and took a step back, trying to retreat from the horror of what I had just seen.
"This has to be some kind of sick joke. Who are you?" I asked, defensively.
"As I said, ma'am, I'm with the Poulter City Police Department. My name is Sergeant Miller. I wish I wasn't standing here with such bad news, but you are Mrs. Daniels, right? Mrs. Caroline Daniels?"
I turned around toward the opening that led into the kitchen, "Then who is in my house?"
Until now I hadn't even noticed that the sounds of cooking had stopped. The silence that rang from the kitchen was deafening. The officer placed one hand on his gun holster and moved forward cautiously. My mind raced as he searched the kitchen and then down the hallway for any signs of an intruder. How had that not been my husband? The man looked like my husband, and didn't have any lost twins that I was aware of. I couldn't believe it wasn't him.
And shouldn't I be crying right now? Wasn't that the appropriate response to something like this? Instead, it was almost like I couldn't feel anything at all. The image I had just seen kept flashing before me.
After what felt like an eternity, Sergeant Miller called out, "It's all clear."
I cautiously walked toward the kitchen with a face of stone. As I moved through the arch door, I expected to see the mess I had seen just moments before I had heard the doorbell. Instead, I saw only a clean counter top, and everything in its normal place. To say it gave me an eerie feeling would have been a serious understatement.
I walked over to where Evan would have been standing, completely puzzled. Then I noticed the card near the sink. I picked it up and opened it.
Caroline,
I'm so sorry I never took the time to make dinner for you or treat you the way you deserved to be treated. After the accident, I wanted to show you how much you meant to me. I hope the memory I created for you serves you well in place of what I never did. Please forgive me for all of my shortcomings, and live a good life. I'll see you on the other side.
All my love,
Evan.
|
"I know its hard ma'am, but we found his dead body today on a construction site."
The young detective and her 2 police officers seemed dead serious.
"No! I mean he is standing in the kitchen right now cooking some soup for dinner."
"Well, that seems odd. May we enter and to ask you some questions?"
I just nodded. This entire day was strange. This morning somebody called and asked for my husband. Judging from accent, the caller must have been either german or austrian. But Sam never had any friends from oversea. And after lunch there was this noise. Like someone was building something in the neighbourhood. Only that everyone exept us was on vacation.
I let them enter and sit down in the living room. My husband came out of the kitchen with that blue appron I bought him last week.
"Darling? Whats going on?"
"Sam, these police officers said that they found YOUR dead body today. They just have a few questions."
He seemed just as confused as I am.
"Well, why not. Do you want something to drink detective..."
"Gardner, these are officers Crown and Miller. And yes, a glas of water for each of us would be nice."
He brought a carafe with water and several glasses from the kitchen and sat down with us.
"Sir, how long have you been living here with Mrs. Steiner?"
"3 years already. It still seems like yesterday since we moved together."
"Do you have any relatives?"
"No, my father was the last family member and he died 6 years ago."
"Mrs. Steiner, what about you?"
"My parents are still living in Chicago. And I have a older brother but...."
"Well?"
"He is in a witness protection program. I'm not supposed to talk about him."
"I understand. We will check this afterwards. Now, was there anything in the past that could explain the body of the, obviously perfectly healthy, Mr. Steiner?"
I had to think for a moment.
"My husband had a accident 2 years back. He was in a coma for a week. But I visited him every day till he woke up."
"I see. Mr. and Mrs. Steiner, I have to ask you to come with us. We need to make a DNA test to be absoluetely sure."
"But why? I'm right here, you can see that!"
"Sir, its just for you own safety."
Gardner reached into the pocket of her jacket. Sam just sighed and drank a sip from his glas.
And then slinged it against Gardners head. She fell down backwards from her chair. Sam then grabbed a pen from the desk and rammed it into Crowns neck, who stumbled back in complete confusion while holding his throat. Miller tried to stand up and pull out his gun, but Sam charged him and slammed his head against the wall. Over and over again till the wall was covered in blood and pieces of bone and brain matter. He then calmly stood up and crushed Crowns neck with a stomp.
I couldn't believe what I just saw. The tender and understanding husband I loved was no more. Instead a blood thirsty monster with the eyes of a predator looked at me.
I screamed and tried to get away from that blood covered lunatic. But he grabbed my legs and brought me down before knocking me out.
When I woke up again, I was cuffed to a chair in our basement. Detective gardner was bound to a chair in front of me.
And there it was again, the noise like someone would use a hammer to crack something open. Only that it was very close this time. I turned my head and saw Sam breaking a concrete wall.
"Look who is awake again. Had some sweet dreams darling?"
"S-Sam? What are you doing?
"Just getting some gear."
He reached into the hole in the wall and grabbed a large black suitcase. Detective Gardner also woke up.
"And now we are complete, great!"
He brought a laptop and a foldable desk and put both in front of Gardner.
"Detective, I am aware that you are one of the few people in this town having access to some of the classified data about the brother of my wife. But in order to view them I need a code. If you would be so friendly..."
Detective Garner spit him in the face.
"If you think I wou..."
Sam just wiped the spit from his face and then forced a towel down her throat. He then grabbed a old car battery and connected the jumper cables to the detdective.
She started twichting, her muffled screams filling the room.
Same then took off the cable and removed the improvised gag.
"How about now?"
"Fuck you!"
He put the gag back in and repeated the procedure while whistling the american national anthem.
"It could be so easy. We dont have to do this detective. Now for the code please."
He removed the towel. Gardner seemed to comply.
"5..8..M..s..1..."
"Thank you, was it so hard?"
Sam gave her a pat on the head and the entered the code in the laptop. He spend a minute reading the file while the smile on his face became bigger.
"How the stars align... It seems your brother is visiting the neighbouring town tomorrow. I think I will pay him a visit."
Tears ran down my cheecks. I now realized that he was only interested in my brother. I tried to deny it to this point, but now I had no choice but to accept the fact.
"Oh....don't cry darling. I never loved you. In fact, everything was played. And it was fucking awful. Your so called cooking managed to even kill the ingredients a 2. tme. Your meatloaf would be greasy on the outside and fucking raaaaaw in the inside all the time. So disgusting even a starving african child would rather face death than eating this shit. Even the fucking sex in our played relationship was awful. Every fucking time we had sex you would start crying and screaming when I picked up the pace. And on top of that I wasted 3 fucking years trying to reach your brother over you. And now I get the chance but now from you, but from a detective with too many administrative rights who just so happened to discover a mistake I made. But now this ends and I can finally finish my assignment. By the way. They didn't found my body. It was the body of my useless twin brother. That twat always wanted a calm life like this. I killed him because I could never stand him and because you were stupid enough not to notice any difference."
Sam grabbed the suitcase and forced the towel in both mine and Gardners mouth.
"Now if you would excuse me, I have a job to do. Don't worry, I won't kill you, I still have a use for you 2."
| 2017-10-10T07:05:33 | 2017-10-10T05:53:19 | 103 | 27 |
[WP] A team of researchers in a submarine are caught in a huge storm. The submarine submerges until the storm passes. When they resurface, they can’t get a fix on their location or find land. When night falls, there are two moons in the sky and the constellations are completely unfamiliar.
Well this has blown up big time!! Almost on the front page, the stories so far are all amazing! Keep them coming!!
|
We'd all made fun of Brian, at least a little bit. This was a son packed full of scientists and with few military minds, so we all had things we needed and geeked over, but Brian was one of those lifetime ultra-geeks. The type that jumped on your back if you mispronounced your Klingon, or heaven forbid you mix up a elf or god from The Silmarillion. So despite the current circumstances, Brian was probably enjoying everyone starting at him in silence that wasn't laden with ire.
See, three weeks ago we had left Fairbanks for the depths of the Pacific. Most of us on board were part of what we called The Cake Project. Portals. The science was there, but we needed a massive heat sink, and the biggest ocean in the planet seemed good enough. It was more cost effective to build the thing underwater than build a sink big enough. And.... Sorry. I'm rabbit trailing again. I get that from my father.
To the point. Last week, we started it. Set it up to pass a titanium pill 300 yards East. It worked! It passed everything inanimate we threw at it. And then it passed the organics: lettuce, rats, a monkey named Louis. I think we shouldn't have left it running all week though.
Weather on the surface had slowly been deteriorating, and by the end of that first week, it had grow unruly. We were lining up the subs torpoedo tube for a last test, another run for Louis, when something went wrong. Of the two people at the view port, only one is still alive. Colin went nuts and best his head on the side of the sub until he died, and Aubree is still balled up below muttering something about Elder Gods in some indeciferable tongue. So we don't really know what happened, but the portal surged and we got sucked (or pushed, if you believe Aubree) in.
We made it, but when we turned the sub around, the portal array was gone. Actually, the whole continental shelf we were sitting on the edge of was gone. The sensors went bezerk, screaming that we were suddenly in much warmer water. No matter, we survived, even if we went farther than programmed. We broke for the surface. We all needed the air and stress vent. 30 souls quickly spread out on deck, finding their comfort space. It was probably five minutes before the first cry came. And five seconds before we were all starting at the sky.
Two moons. Two.
That's when everyone went crazy. Where were we? How could there be two of them? Theories were as abundant as sobs until something streaked through the night sky overhead. Silence feel as they banked and came for a second pass. There were five of them. Planes unlike anything we'd ever seen. The military heads started talking, of course. They were gray in the front and yellow where they swept back to a graceful point. No tail, and turbines mounted on the ends of the wings. The pilots at least looked human.
But that was when Brian looked up and said what he did and we found ourselves starting gape-mouthed at him. "That's no moon."
|
“You sure this is a good idea?” Randall glanced over the rocky terrain, his eyes wide. He finished knotting the anchor rope to the largest rock we could find and I let go of the section I was holding. The tiny submersible bobbed at the sudden release of tension, but the anchor held it fast.
“There’s not enough power in that rinky-dink vessel to get us anywhere else,” Claire said, peeling seaweed off or her boots. Her long blonde hair was soaking wet and sticking to her face and shoulders. “So, land it is.”
I looked over our surroundings, frowning. Rocks, moss, and some strands of washed-up kelp covered the entire area, and were well lit under the full moon. No sand, no shells. We were definitely far from home.
“Wasn’t tonight supposed to be a waning gibbous?” I said, craning my neck up to the sky. A full moon stared back at me, full and majestic. “Looks like a supermoon too.”
“Jack.” Claire said, spinning and surveying the entire night sky. “I think there’s only supposed to be one moon, too. I would remember if another popped up.”
“What are you-” The words died in my mouth as I shifted my view to the other horizon. There was another moon. Two moons.
“Well, looks like we're not in-”
“Randall, you better not say that shit. We weren't in Kansas in the first place.” Claire shifted her feet, trying to find a solid spot to stand amidst the rocks.
“Constellations are off too. I probably couldn't navigate with the ones I'm used to anyway, but we don't have a shot in hell now. This is insane.” I put my hands on my hips, my gaze wandering over the entire tableau.
“What about the ship? You think they survived that shitstorm?” Randall waved out over the open water with one hand, his other hand batting strands of wet brown hair from his face.
“There wasn’t even supposed to be a storm. The forecast was for clear skies all day. You heard the same panicked radio banter I did,” I said, shaking my head. “But, the Sea Daemon was a lot bigger than us. It would take a hell of a storm to put them under. We should at least keep trying radio contact for a few more hours.”
There was a brief moment of silence as we all pondered the implications. Our friends, Claire’s husband, Randall’s puppy, were all aboard the Sea Daemon. They were probably fine, and more worried about us.
Claire nodded. “One of us should man the radio in the submersible while the others scout the area. We’ll need shelter and food-” she paused to look around at the rocks and grimaced- “though both seem unlikely from this vantage point. So, who wants radio duty?”
“Captain, my Captain,” Randall made a mocking bow to Claire. When he straightened, his left forefinger was touching the tip of his nose. He smiled. “Nose goes!”
I laughed and did the same. Claire grumbled.
“You boys are… just boys. Fine. It’s not like the leading scientist on the mission wants to go scout uncharted land or anything.” She carefully wound her way through the rocks towards the bobbing, round vessel. The black water rose to her waist before she reached it and pulled herself aboard. “One of you assholes come get the spare radio! I’m not walking it out there to you!”
I laughed and looked at Randall. His finger was already back to his nose and the same sly smile was in place.
“You’re ridiculous, sir.” I trudged my way out into the water to grab the spare radio. My suit was still holding up, so it wasn’t a big deal. As long as I didn’t snag it on any rocks during our journey I’d be dry all night. The research suits were great for swimming, but not so much for hiking.
Claire pressed the radio firmly in my hand. “Keep our wanna-be third grader safe out there, Jack. Don’t let him do anything stupid. Who knows what’s over those rocks.”
I nodded and winked at her before I turned to head back to shore. Her concern almost made her look motherly for a moment, softening her hardened yet still attractive features. I had to admit she looked pretty good in the moonlight.
After Randall and I were a few hundred feet up the rocky beach, I keyed the radio.
“Clarie, you copy?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Good. Will repeat every hundred meters to maintain range.”
“10-4.”
We made our way further, still having to carefully wind our footsteps around the large jagged rocks. I frowned, taking note of several peculiar ones.
“Hey,” I said. “Have you noticed that most of the rocks with any kind of a point at all are facing towards the water?
Randall stopped walking and looked around. “Well, I’ll be damned. They are. Maybe it’s a weird erosion event, maybe the way the tide here swirls up every day. Who knows what that looks like with two moons.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe.”
A few hundred more meters, and a few more radio check-ins, and we reached the crest of the rocky beach.
“All right, there got to be more to this place than big ass rock-”
The breath caught in both of our throats as a new horizon unfolded, bathed in twin moonlight. Rolling hills, winding rivers, mountains, and vales all spread before us, somehow all visible in a way that nothing should ever be at night.
“Well, that's…” I couldn't process the words to describe it.
“Yeah. Same here.” Randall took in a deep breath. “It might be a very good day for science, Jack. There's no telling what we just stumbled across.”
I nodded dumbly, still staring. My hand reached for the button on the radio, but a sudden croaking noise startled us both.
Just to our right, about fifteen feet away, a creature with slick green skin lay across a rock, gasping and struggling for air. Bits of wretched slime coated its skin, and its eyes were covered in white cataracts. It had basic humanoid features, though the proportions were off in several areas.
“What... Is it… And is it sick?” Randall whispered.
I keyed the radio. “Claire. We need you at the ridgeline. Emergency.”
There was a long pause, then her voice finally floated over the speaker.
“I have my own problems, boys.” I could hear her voice shaking. “You want to maybe hurry back, and bring something to use as a weapon?”
[/r/intotheslushpile](http://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile)
| 2018-01-29T07:06:21 | 2018-01-29T06:19:27 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Adam and Eve were the first and only children of Angels and Demons interbreeding. God feared them. That is why they were sent to be bound on Earth, by the most powerful of seals. Gravity.
Edit: for those people not liking the gravity being the seal: go fu.. Na just kidding, you can just think of something else being the seal.
|
"They did WHAT?"
The booming shout actually shook the room and sent a shiver down Gabriel's spine and up his wings. There's nothing quite as terrifying as raising the ire of the almighty, and Gabriel had just delivered some particularly devastating news. Yahweh had never been a subscriber to the idea of not shooting the messenger.
"Th-they... fornicated, my Lord." Gabriel felt dirty even explaining such a sinful concept to the most pure being in the universe. "Our own Uziel and Eisheth, the succubus. Multiple times, and they've produced two children."
"This is a disaster. This is unprecedented. Do you have any idea what these... these... abominations will be capable of? They'll be angelic one moment and demonic the next. They'll have a *choice,* Gabriel! Between good and evil. Imagine that."
"Well, perhaps, my Lord, we can take them in. Raise them, teach them to follow the light, hope for the best," Gabriel suggested gingerly.
"That would never work. They're too imperfect for Heaven. But they're not evil enough for Hell. I can only think of one solution."
So, not quite in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. He wanted to see if his theory was correct, if these chimeric beings would be not purely good and not purely evil, but some strange mixture of both.
He created a beautiful, lush garden with everything these new creatures could want, a place where they could live comfortably, in harmony with the sprawling natural world he had created just for them. To stop them from leaving, he removed their mangled half-demon half-angel wings, and placed a binding force around the globe that would keep them tethered to its surface. There was only one rule, planted by God to test the natures of the hybrids. They were not, under any circumstances, to eat from the tree God had placed in the middle of the garden.
Though the creatures were capable of both good and evil, they weren't totally aware, or capable, of either in their most extreme forms. The fruit from the tree would open their eyes fully to the extent of their abilities. They would understand the depths of potential human suffering and how to exploit it. The same was true for the unbounded extent of human joy. Upon eating the fruit, they would be able to exhibit the glory of Heaven, or plunge into the depths of Hell, depending on how they chose to live.
The plan was to drop them in the garden, explain the rule, and then observe, without interfering. Of course, things rarely go according to plan in the eternal war between good and evil. Would the creatures have made the choice they did, had there not been any interference in their world? It would have surely been a different story altogether, but alas, that is not what happened.
"Hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?" The serpent asked, writhing and hissing almost hypnotically.
And Eve began to wonder.
|
"God come quick, you have to see this! they are flippin flying!"
"what?"
"they are flying like birds"
"are you drunk?"
"no, god seriously. they are even more of them flying now"
"I swear if you're messing with me again"
"oh shoot, they made bigger wings"
"fine Ill come take a look"
god started across the cloud to look at what the angel was talking about. what he say when he arrived there was one of the strangest things he had ever seen. massive metal birds flying around, firing small metal pellets at eachother causing the other birds to suddenly catch on fire and fall. while humans where fighting underneath the birds firing small pellets of metal at eachother as well.
"what the devil's name is this?" god demanded
"you called?" said a voice that sounded like their throat was lined with charcoal.
"look at this mess. what the hell am I seeing?" god demanded
"it looks like another world war, I just watched the first one like a few minutes ago. no clue what those things flying around are" said the devil now looking down over the side of the cloud. it had been a long time since the angles and demons had made peace, however one of the conditions was that humans stay trapped on earth.
"those are humans" chimed in the angel
"your shitting me." said the devil "how do you know. I was watching the same thing you where and had no clue"
"I saw their first flight where they where exposed and not covered in whatever silvery material thats made out of. I also think they had cloth covered ones?" said the angel, slightly nervous being in front of the devil. "well at least they are inside of those things. its like they build their own wings" finished the angle after a pause
"you two stay here, Ill go try to put a stop to this"
"HOLY MOTHER OF SHIT" screamed the devil "ONE OF THE BIRD THINGS JUST BLEW UP AN ENTIRE CITY IN A FIRE BALL" he called over to god who was stomping over to another cloud.
"oh shoot, there goes another one!" called the angel.
a few minutes passed and god came back with a handful of ball like objects. setting them down, the angle turned away from the quickly advancing world of the humans to look at what god had gotten.
"ooo, can I give one a try?" asked the angel
"sure why not? use this one, it has a smaller effect but still powerful"
god handed the angle a large rock like thing. the angle taking it in hand threw it as hard as he could at the earth.
"it'll take a while for it to reach earth, bu- DEVIL WHAT ARE YOU DOING" said god in a panic.
"showing this little do-gooder how its done." picking up a transparent ball and throwing it much much faster at earth. "bye bye ozone layer"
"devil, what the hell are you doing? I was just going to force them back to making stone houses. you just doomed them to dying painfully" cried god.
"relax, it still has a ways to go before hi...HOLY HELL ON AN ANGEL'S BUTT, WHAT IS THAT" the devil cried jumping to his feet in excitement. a small cylinder with flames coming out the back was flying out of the atmosphere. getting smaller as its stages separated. getting smaller until it was just a small metallic sphere. seconds later more and more of them started flying. they watched stunned until they started to reach the moon.
"OK THAT IS WAY TO FAR." god said picking up three random balls and throwing them as hard as he could. one hitting earth, the atmosphere began to warm.
"from now on, what ever they put into their atmosphere stays there. soon they will either boil or drown, or both." as god was speaking, a craft landed on the moon and two tiny humans covered in a white cloth stepped out. and as this was happening the devil's ball hit the earth, starting to destroy the ozone. the other two balls god threw where slower, and where still making their way to earth. they watched as the human's cities grew to enormous sizes. towers reaching into the sky made of glass reached into the sky. as this was happening the second ball hit, shaking the earth several times. by the time the last few earthquake hit, the towers stopped falling.
"WHAT THE HELL, WHEN THEY BUILD A TOWER HALF THAT SIZE I TORE IT DOWN AND THEY STOPPED TRYING TO BUILD THAT FOR CENTURIES. NOW THEY JUST REBUILD THEM!" god thundered angrily. stomping off angrily the angel called to him "what are you doing?" "grabbing something" god called back in a hiss.
"can we keep throwing these things at them?" the devil called to god.
"go nuts"
the devil and angle began to throw the balls at earth using up the last of them before realizing something.
"is that..." the angel began to ask
"yep...the humans launched a thing out of the solar system... oh look they are launching things to the other planets as well...what are they doing?" asked the devil
"no clue, but when do you think the balls will get there?" the devil and angel looked at each-other questionably as to say "should we go grab god?" looking back they see a small object on the 4th planet. looking closes the devil gulped and said "this is going to make god pissed. they set up a little colony on mars!" watching in horror as it grew to a massive city before any of the balls threw and the last one god threw threw hit earth. watching in horror as a craft intersected the balls flying towards earth and moved them to make them plunge into the sun.
"what the hell are these things. before long they will start going to other stars. in like a week they might colonize the entire galaxy of theirs and start spreading to others...what happens when they leave the universe and find us?" asked the devil.
"they wont." god said walking up from behind holding a black object.
"a black hole? god thats not going to work, they-" the angel was cut off as god threw it at them with all his might. this time it reached earth almost instantly. they waited a second but nothing happened. taking a closer look, the find the humans have contained it and are using it for power.
"TELL THE ARMY TO ARM THEMSELVES! AND DEVIL, YOU BETTER HELP US AS WELL." boomed god. the angel instantly standing to his feet and flying off.
"hell no, I aint fighting those things." the devil said leaving back for hell in a puff of flames "not even we could stand up to what you threw at them" he said in a whisper as he vanished.
| 2019-06-24T07:36:59 | 2019-06-24T07:09:18 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] Human blood turns darker with every evil deed and you've just murdered your wife. You never admitted to doing it, but you were the only suspect in the case. Imagine everyone's surprise when they found out that your blood is still milky white.
|
I knew that I had done nothing. My wife was alive. Lucy was fine. We had just been eating together peacefully when those horrible people had come in and taken her away from me. They had screamed at me and said that I was horrible. They had kidnapped my wife and dragged her away. Now, those same people said that I had killed her. I know that I would never hurt anybody, especially not Lucy. Not my Lucy.
She hadn't been herself for a while before that day, but no matter how different she acted, I would never harm her. Only somebody truly evil could kill another person.
Those people who called themselves police must have had black blood. Everybody believed them when I had seen them take her away with my own two eyes. She hadn't even struggled, it was almost like she had just given up. When they took her away, she made no noise and wouldn't even look me in the eye. She hadn't looked me in the eye for a while. Whenever I talked to her, it was like she just zoned out. Her eyes would glaze over and she would ignore me. It was quite rude, but I would never kill her over it.
My blood came back white and I'm thankful that the truth has come to light. I just wish I could sleep with my sweet Lucy again. My body is naturally warm and cuddling with her cold body had been nice. No matter though, my son has taken to sleeping in my bed at night, and he is nice and cold too. He used to run warm, but that changed recently. I miss my Lucy, but at least I have him.
|
"Sit down Mr Hank, the phlebotomist will be soon with us" the detective who has been interrogating me for the last couple of hours pointed to a pale green chair with extra wide cushions on the armrest. You know the kind you see at your doctor.
"I might remind you while you have asserted your 5th amendment rights the Supreme Court has ruled that colour blood matching isn't covered under the amendment..."
"I know, I know, The United State v. Landsteiner. You do know I'm a lawyer detective, right?" I interrupted him while sitting down on the chair.
"Oh, and what a lawyer you were Mr Hank. One of the best criminal defendants this state has ever seen. Murderers, rapist, CEO's of social media platforms. You have defended them all, haven't you? Must have made you think you can actually get away with murdering your wife. Didn't you?" the policeman said, trying to provoke me into saying something incriminating. His last chance to get something on me because after the blood test they had no legal bases to keep me locked up anymore. That is if it comes back negative of course.
"I don't know anything about murdering my wife Detective Stanford, but as far as I'm aware I haven't been disbarred yet so I am still a lawyer, no past tense necessary" I replied while rolling up my sleeve. Seeing as I wasn't taking the bate he tried a different route
"How do you think this is going to go? We have a motive, opportunity, evidence, and as soon as that black tare of yours gets into a tube a conviction" a self-assured smirk on his face
"All evidence against me is circumstantial detective. My fingerprints on a kitchen knife that's from my house? Please, I can explain that in one line, and I haven't even checked the custody chain on the rest of your so-called evidence. Furthermore, my blood was never colour typed before and you know what that means, right detective?"
The smirk on the detective's face turned ugly since he knew exactly. People think of colour testing as indisputable proof, but without a previous sample, you can never be sure if the darkening happened because of the crime a person was currently accused or because of something else. Even if my blood comes out dark I would still get my day in court and be able to fight the test result.
"Now listen you little.." started the detective, but at this moment the phlebotomist came through the door, a 20 something nurse in dark blue scrubs and whatever he wanted to say stayed behind his lips as he gestured the nurse towards me.
The young woman without introducing herself went to work and with quick professional movement started to prep my hand. A rubber band went around my biceps and she asked me to form a fist. She disinfected a spot she palpated shortly and while she waited for the disinfectant to dry took out a syringe and a vacuum tube. In one swift motion, the needle went in, I could barely feel it.
"huh... that's weird" she muttered as the vial filled up
"what? Is it literally black? Wouldn't surprise me" said the detective leaning towards her, the same moment I dared to look down.
White. The blood in the test tube was white.
"what the hell? how is this possible?!" shouted Stanford
"I... I... I don't know, I hit a vein for sure detective, but I've never seen white blood except in newborns" the nurse was visibly surprised but she handled it better than the policeman who was shaking with anger
"Take another sample! This can't be right"
"Now, now Mr Standford, might I remind you that US v. Landsteiner stipulates that a suspect in a criminal proceeding is obligated to deliver only one 5ml blood vial?" The detective was staring daggers at me, he must have been half of mind to get another sample himself.
"If you force another blood sample, all blood colour evidence will be inadmissible and you know it. Now if you would be so kind as to let me out. I have some cleaning to do at my home should your forensic team be done with it" I got up, my hands only slightly shacking and made my way out of the Police station.
"I'll get you, Hank! I don't care what the blood says, I know you did it!" The detective yield after me as I left the room. Good. Such violent outburst would be ideal grounds for the restraining order I'll be filing against him should he ever come near me again.
As I walked out of the police station one thing bothered me though, because you see I did kill my wife. My blood should have been dark, black even I dare say. I had no idea what happened. Still thinking about how it was possible I was walking out tangible a free man. I got into my car, an old trusted machine I bought while still in college, and started driving home.
While I drove my eye landed on the odometer of my car. It was about to roll over. I watched the numbers switch and the 99,999 became a 00,000. I smiled slightly. I did defend an awful lot of guilty people to the best of my ability, for a long time.
| 2020-02-09T12:02:53 | 2020-02-09T11:51:14 | 311 | 115 |
[WP] Your gf invited you to meet her parents. You told her that you're a veterinarian. Her father is a computer repairman. In reality, however, you are an assassin. A very good one at that, too. When you see her father, your heart skips a beat. He's your boss.
|
Clip check. Two tucked in the belt, you never know. Chamber check. Clear.
Acting time. A nice dinner. Pleasant conversation, a smile on the face.
Clip check. Chamber check. There's a knife in my shoe but I don't think I'll need it.
We knock on the door. Lovely woman says hello, invites us in. Tea. Says her husband will be a little late.
Clip check. Chamber check. Knife check.
We drink tea. I'm trying to make a good first impression. Smiles and stupid jokes that aren't really funny or original, but it's a starting point.
The tea has me needing to take a piss. I ask where the bathroom is. I go in the small room. Clip check. Chamber check. Knife check. Review what I'd seen outside - where are the exits? Where are the sightlines?
I come back out. Her father arrives.
Emotion check. You have to act. Keep it cool.
He shakes my hand and we pretend we don't know each other. He glances at the arm I'd broken last month when I was on an operation. Smiles.
We have a great night, everything was fantastic. Dinner was great, everyone was joking around and having fun. Except every now and then, I'd see him looking at me with cold and piercing eyes. We'd both seen that motherfucker die and we'd been paid for it. One of the rules in this line of business is that you don't ask questions. I didn't know about his family, but I wouldn't want him to know about mine either.
It was unspoken. We both knew we were bad people who did bad things for money, but his last shred of humanity meant he didn't want his daughter in that world,
and I could tell.
I knew that if I ever saw her again, his next contract would be for me.
I never saw her again.
|
Rachel was so exited for me to meet her folks and the only thing I was worried about is if they wouldn’t mind my casual clothing. Is a flannel over a AC/DC shirt with jeans and sneakers good enough to present to parents? I usually have a okay track record with them and it almost always gets better once I tell them my job. I work as a veterinarian in the city and on my off days I’m a international assassin. If you’re laughing I encourage you to stop because I’m not joking. Just this past week my boss sent me on a international mission to go kill off some revolutionary leader. Had to infiltrate his ranks, spike his drink, and get home in 3 days. Managed to do it with my team but it was draining. My boss said i won’t have any missions for a while so I can just relax, play guitar and chill with Rachel.
She’s prepping me on how to greet her dad and how he’s gonna examine my phone since he loves computers. He repairs them so it makes sense.
The target is described as a tall white male in his mid 40s with a salt and pepper beard, big arms and a big laugh. Her mom might be home too and according to Rachel she’s just Rachel but taller, African American and with a dragon tattoo on her arm. We get to the door and I spot a car that looks oddly familiar like the ones we have at the base. She yells for her dad to stop being lazy and open the door. He opens it and he looks exactly like my boss.
“ You must be Justin I’ve heard all sorts of things about you”. I take a extra second to respond because my boss is my girlfriends father. I shake his hand and he looks me dead in the eyes like he did earlier when he told me I could get a break from missions. When I walk into the living room her mother runs over and extends her hand. As I shake it My boss ice grills me most likely to mess with me. We sit down and he turns on Wheel of fortune as we eat the food her mother made. After one bite I can immediately tell she’s a better cook than her daughter and that’s when the questioning starts. My boss looks at me and asks “ You into music huh? What’s ya favorite band?”. He knows the answer is either gonna be paramore or All time low so i know he’s just messing with me. I answer with the Beatles and he laughs asking what do I know bout them. As he laughs he shoots me another death stare, this time for lying. My hand starts to sweat as Rachel’s mom asks me how we met. As I’m recalling how her daughter poured paint on me in 5th grade her dad goes over to the computer parts and pulls a badge out of his pocket. Does he think he’s slick? He literally just pulled out our logo which is a upside down eagle over a black backdrop.
Rachel then tells her mom how I’m a great veterinarian and that we started dating Cause Rachel brought her friends dog to my job for nail clippings. As she jokes with her mom my boss looks at my pocket knowing I have the badge with me too. He comes back to the couch and we start talking bout the development of Video game Consoles and our favorite games. This might be the most tame conversation I’ve had with my boss in 4 years. Rachel looks at her dad and asks if he likes my sneakers. Her dad bought them for me after I killed a black market trader 2 months ago. He says their very nice and that he would like to buy them off me and now I’m scared. This is nothing like how he acts on the job: I’m lucky to get a good job or a hello out of him if it’s not mission time and now he’s laughing. As it gets closer to my time for curfew I hug Rachel hug her mother and thank her for the food when my boss tells me to come with him to the basement. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean the regular one.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DATING MY DAUGHTER” He yells as we go into the bunker that’s filled with computers, world maps, and our logos on the walls. As I look around in awe and a bit of fear he yells again “ YOU AND RACHEL?” I shrug my shoulders being as confused as he is and that’s when he lowers his voice for a second. “ Rachel doesn’t know about your actual job does she?” I shake my head and he asks what do I tell her I do on the weekdays. I tell him that I tell her I have late shifts at the job or that I’m babysitting across the street. When I miss school it’s cause I have to take care of my niece who’s always sick. He looks at me and grabs me by the collar “Rachel can never figure out and if you put her in any danger I’ll be the one to Assassinate you”.
I shake my head okay and after a couple seconds he pops the question I was dreading the whole night. He asks me what my intentions with Rachel are. He knows I’m prone to getting a girl to fall for me on missions so it makes sense why he would ask. I tell him I really really like his daughter and she’s my favorite person to be around. He laughs and grabs me by the shirt again saying “ if you break her heart I’ll break your life and college fund. Yes, he’s paying for my college by giving me a scholarship under a fake name. I hear Rachel calling my name as it gets closer to me being out past curfew so I ask why my boss brought me down here besides to ruff up my shirt and show me his knives and swords. He looks me dead in the eyes and goes “ You’ve got to assassinate a world leader over winter break”.
| 2020-06-05T14:06:14 | 2020-06-05T14:04:11 | 128 | 10 |
[WP] As a child, you had a very unique diary; whatever you wrote, something would respond, their words magically appearing on the page. Years later, while searching a library hundreds of miles away, you rediscover the diary you thought you'd lost. Inside is a pen and your first entry: "Hello".
|
"Hello."
My old diary! My old handwriting, even. I'd had conversations late into the night, joked around with it on weekends, told it my secrets. I looked up to it as an older brother I never had. But that was the only entry.
"Hi" I wrote, hoping to figure out what happened.
"WHO ARE YOU???" It responded, using my old handwriting. Well that's odd. It always knew me before. I decided to mess with it.
"I'm the diary, of course!"
"How are you doing this?" Once again, my old handwriting. Why did that question seem so familiar? I knew exactly what to say next.
"The same way you are."
"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Richard." *Oh*. The same words, the old handwriting. Just then it clicked.
"I know. We're going to become great friends."
|
# The Witch Who Weaves Pain
(Part 5: The Feeling of Life)
(Note: The Witch Who Weaves Pain is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**It's quite possible that the most awkward part of being trans is talking to the people you knew before.** Oh, it's not the *hardest* part, not by a long shot, and it's definitely not the most complex—but in terms of sheer, heart-bounding, mind-crushing *awkwardness*? It's hard to beat.
If nothing else, though, awkwardness made a *great* reagent in any number of spells and witchcrafts; in fact, dissolving three grams of condensed awkwardness in one liter of boiling water created the perfect base for many alchemical substances—the "awkward potion," it was called. I tried to focus on how much I was improving my witchcraft instead of how painful it was to talk to my old pen pal.
"So, \_\_\_\_\_\_!" I'd taken a single ingot of determination, carved it into a pen, and dipped it in ink of politeness. The enchanted pen helpfully erased my deadname whenever my old friend wrote it on our shared book, although it wouldn't show up on his end. "Long time no see, huh? What got you digging up this old tome?"
I exhaled, deciding to tell him the truth. "I was just feeling... nostalgic, Mark." I wanted to tell him that I was a witch now—but he'd ask questions, questions I couldn't answer. Suddenly, I swallowed. What the hell was I doing? I was just going to reopen old wounds if I stayed here. I began to write, "Maybe I should—"
"That doesn't sound like the \_\_\_\_\_\_ I knew." Mark's pen shook with laughter. "You never liked it at the village; I'm amazed you feel any kind of nostalgia for that place."
I smiled softly. "Yeah, well... I'm not the person you knew anymore. It's been years. And... I don't know." I closed my eyes, but kept writing. "Sometimes... sometimes I get nostalgic for how simple it was back then. People hated me; I pushed them away. You were kind to me; I stayed up all night talking to you. But now there's... so much more. I'm learning witchcraft," I found myself blurting out. "And there are *so many emotions*. Not just pain, but... joy, and acceptance, and skepticism, and laughter, and love and loss and kindness and—" I stopped. "And I've got to learn to feel them all, to *use* them all, if I want to be a functional witch. But..."
I stared at the scars on my arms, reminders of a time when I couldn't feel *anything*, when I'd wanted to feel something so bad I'd held a candle to my skin just to remind myself that pain, at least, could cut through the numbness.
"I'm just so scared that I've forgotten how to feel," I finally wrote. "That I'm not really *real*."
A blotch of wetness appeared on the paper. Then two. Not my tears—his.
"Gods, \_\_\_\_\_\_. I... if nothing else, you can definitely make *others* feel."
I hesitated, then said, "I'm... there's something I have to tell you."
"Anything."
"I'm... I'm not \_\_\_\_\_\_ anymore. I... my name is Emi." I smiled. "My name is Emi, and I'm a woman, and I'm a witch, and I'm going to be the best damn witch this world has ever seen."
There was a long moment of silence. One. Two. Three. My heart began to beat faster, my brow began to sweat. I was nervous.
I was *feeling* nervous.
I was *alive*.
And then Mark replied.
"You damn well are, Emi."
And I added another emotion to my spellbook.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "The Witch Who Weaves Pain" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/me2rh3/the_witch_who_weaves_pain_masterpost/) for more information. Yes, it is intentional that there is no part 4, and no, I don't know when I'll write part 4.
| 2021-03-31T11:13:51 | 2021-03-31T09:00:10 | 92 | 48 |
[WP] Your childhood friend moved away without warning one day. Years later you meet them again when world's new evil overlord visits your town to personally see to the execution of some rebels. You see the spark of recognition in the overlord's eyes as they cancel the execution and order you untied.
|
The order comes as the cold edge of the axe lays gently on my neck, poised to rise and fall like a guillotine. A single word, deep and reverberant through the town square: “Stop.”
I don’t recognize the voice. I can’t see the person who spoke. I can only kneel and stare at the dull gray concrete below me, my arms tied securely behind my back and my head shoved forward. Blood rolls down the side of my neck and splashes onto the ground. It falls into the cracks of the flooring, joining the tiny river of blood from the other executed rebels. *Drip, drip, drip*, it goes, quiet among the shuffling footsteps around me.
A pair of heavy boots clack loudly against the square floor before stopping in front of me. They are gaudy, covered in obsidian metal and laced with gold. The same voice from earlier, now louder, says, “Untie her.”
And as the ropes loosen against my arms, a pair of callused fingers grab my chin. My head tilts up to meet a familiar pair of green eyes—eyes that I hadn’t seen in years, eyes that I had missed sorely for months after they disappeared.
My best friend, Raya, stands in front of me. My heart, traitorous bastard it is, leaps in joy.
*
Guards lead me to an abandoned house, passing by burnt and beheaded bodies on the way. At my side strides Raya, who lets me in first while dismissing her entourage with a wave of her hand. She takes a seat at the splintered dining table and beckons me to join. I stay standing.
She sighs and removes her helmet. Her hair is in an elaborate bun, neat despite how cramped the helmet must be. Her cloak goes next, then her gloves, then her sword, all delicately placed on the table in an arrangement that means nothing to me. Then she stands, walking purposefully toward me and leaving her easiest weapon behind her.
I force myself to inhale. Exhale, slowly. I used to know everything about her.
Raya walks purposefully toward me, leaving her easiest weapon behind her. Her hand comes to my cheek, rough against my skin. My nose is permanently wrinkled in disgust from both the smell of charred bodies and my heart’s warring happiness that my childhood friend is back.
The friend who moved away more than a decade ago. Who apparently killed several thousand people in the years since. Who killed the family that gave us small baked goods—cakes and bread and strawberry tarts—in this very house. Who personally took the axe and killed the family minutes before I was brought out to kneel.
She stares. I say nothing. I have nothing to say.
Finally, she opens her mouth. “I missed you,” she says.
*I missed you*, she says. As if that is the only thing that matters after stopping an execution for her reign’s rebels.
“I didn’t,” I lie.
Raya pouts. She steps back, crosses her arms, eyes me from head to toe. Then she nods and smiles. It’s an empty smile, one that is a simple upturn of her lips, emotion devoid from her eyes. It’s so different from when she was little, when she laughed in joy as we jumped into piles of leaves in autumn.
Her left arm leans back and takes the scabbard of her sword. My breath comes short. She wouldn’t—
I am so busy staring at the sword’s movements that I don’t notice her other hand taking mine. The weight of the sword’s hilt settles in mine. Instinctively, I grip it, feeling the cold metal warm under my hand.
Again, Raya’s hand finds my chin, and again, she tilts my head up to meet her eyes. “If you didn’t,” she starts, slowly unsheathing the sword. It glints where stray sunlight hits it from the roof’s holes. “Then you can kill me, can’t you?”
My heart thuds. *No, no, no*, it beats. But this is what us rebels wanted, isn’t it? For her off the throne? My mouth is dry, but still I ask, “Why?”
“Because”—and here, she pulls the sword toward her, the sharp edges cutting her fingers, letting blood trickle down her arm—“you’re the only one I trust.”
_
Edit: Companion piece [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/o6nuvv/wp_your_spouse_is_the_great_overlord_the_owner_of/h2vrcxt/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3)
|
There is a fatal misunderstanding that all those who practise dark magic make, that it is simply a brand, a branch, an offshoot of "light" magic. It is not. Dark magic was born long ago in a battle too long to explain, and it is vicious. Dark magic is a someone, it is relentless, and above all mischievous.
The street was in mayhem until a clap of thunder struck right down the middle of it, the crowd stopped, and their eyes widened. “DOWN” a voice from behind the crowd yelled, and so the crowd did, like a colossal game of Simon says, but this was no game, at least, not for the crowd. Among the crowd was Theodor, known to his friends as Eddy. Eddy was currently kneeling on the ground, and the spot he had chosen was lousy with kicked up asphalt that was forcing into his knees like a hundred tiny, blunt knives. He dared not move though, nobody would dare, for to move would be suicide.
“HALF RISE” the voice, now visible as a lone figure towering over the crowd shrieked. Exactly half the crowd rose to their feet. If the previous command was Simon says, this was Simon demands. There was no fighting it, the words held power, and the figure held the words. Eddy was one of those that rose, not by choice of course, but he was somewhat relieved at the bittersweet end to those little blunt knives in his knees.
“TIE” the voice, a man in dark robes, demanded. Eddy, and the rest of those standing, suddenly had their hands thrust behind their back by some invisible force, and before they knew it their hands were tied by some manifested rope. Eddy got sight of it around his hands out of the side of his eye and was reminded of how he ended up in this town.
“TALK” a gruff, smoke-worn voice barked. A man tied to a chat in a dimly lit room chuckled, “hah, you think your words have any power? Your words are worthless, rat” it rebuked. The man that matched that gruff voice stepped forward from a dark corner of the room, into the range of a single fluttering light bulb hanging above the seat. “I don’t need words” he said, solemnly, and swung a hefty dunt at the seated man. The blow knocked the man’s body sideways, the seat teetered on two legs before collapsing to the right. Eddy observed from the back, still in the shadows, as the gruff man lifted the seat, then dunted the man again a few times over, until Eddy intervened “I’ll take it from here” he said, as he stepped forward from the shadows.
“Where are you taking them?” Eddy quizzed, calm as a cucumber. “Tell me now and I’ll stop him knocking you sideways” he finished. The man in the seat smirked, it was a bloody smirk, and a few teeth were missing where the hefty dunts had landed.
“To your mothers house” the smirk whispered.
Dunt… The gruff man had swooped forward with a swift blow that landed just as the man had finished his sentence. This time he went backwards, and the gruff man centered him again.
Five hours had passed in the dank little room, and ten more would before Eddy eventually got his answer. The Dark One was taking the people to a small town in Kilkenney, Galmoy. More specifically, the Galmoy mines. The gruff man made sure the rope around the seated, bloody man’s hands was secure, before he and Eddy left the room, and locked the ancient, thick iron door behind them.
“STOP BRE…” the voice emanating from the middle of the street began demanding but stopped suddenly. There was a moment of silence, as all those standing breathed rapidly, to check if they still could. “Eddy?” the voice quizzed, “Eddy is that you!?”.
Eddy thought for a moment, looked at the Dark One intensely, glancing away every once and a while lest his eyeballs pop. “Grant?” he responded, “Grant from high school?”.
The Dark One, the figure in the middle of the street, snapped his fingers, and everyone around Eddy, kneeling or standing, collapsed and stopped breathing. “Gonna need you to keep that name to yourself champ” he said calmly. Eddy froze, he was already froze but he froze more at the sight of everyone dying around him.
The Dark One approached Eddy, waved his hands to dismiss the rope, then took his arm in his hand. Like nothing, they were in a dark cavern, the mines, right down in the middle. There was a chunk of wall that looked recently dug, not the same time-worn edge that lined the rest of the mines around Eddy. “What is this?” Eddy quizzed, forgetting for a moment who he was quizzing. “This is life, Eddy, pure life.” The Dark One responded.
A black, yet glowing crystal was jutting out of the newly dug area, it looked ancient and impossibly new all at the same time. “This is our answer Eddy, our answer to peace in the world” The Dark One continued.
“I don’t understand, peace? You’re killing people… sir…” Eddy responded.
“For the greater good you understand. Once everyone understands that I am their answer, that will all stop. I just need to make a point.” The Dark One retorted.
“But you…” Eddy was cut off.
“Listen, I’m not gonna’ stand here and let you lecture me Eddy, I thought I’d give you something nice, as comfort for what comes next” The Dark One snapped at him.
Eddy stared at the gem, and then back at the man he had once known as a boy, Grant. “W… What comes next Grant?” he quizzed, much more subdued now. A sharp pain blistered through his stomach, The Dark One held a dagger in it.
“Can’t have someone knowing all that history about me now can I? That could be dangerous in the wrong hands! Or the wrong mouth should I say, all those words of power, no no, had to go.” He said.
Eddy fell over, unmoving, laying at the foot of the gem. The Dark One stood silent for a moment, looking almost regretful. “You think this is power? A gem? In a an old mine? I mean really Grant?” A voice came from Eddy, but it did not sound like Eddy at all.
Eddy rose, but not by his legs, by supernatural force, he floated above Grant. “I expected better from you Grant, I thought you’d have figured it out by now” the voice continued, spoken by Eddy’s lips, but still not his voice. Grant’s eyes widened, “Wh… what is the meaning of this?” he was perplexed.
“TIE” Grant shouted, but Eddy’s hands remained steadfastly dangling by his side. “Oh no no, you would tie me? After all I’ve done for you little Grant?” Eddy continued. The voice wasn’t that of Eddy five minutes ago, but it was certain of that of Eddy now.
“Done for ME?” Grant exclaimed, “You are NOTHING” he continued, a little vein protruding on his temple in anger.
“Seriously? I get to be the good guy ONCE, and this is the level of genius I get to face? You’re not making this any fun Grant, you’re too predictable.” Eddy retorted, ignoring Grant’s previous question.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you a little more juice this time. Let us change things around, maybe I’ll give you a little push in the right direction.” Eddy continued. “I spend an epoch asleep, and this is what I get to work with? Friggin’ epic.” He finished, chatting to himself.
Grant looked bemused in every sense of the word. He was angry, confused, belittled and growing tired of the monologue. “YOU DARE TALK TO M…” he exclaimed, interrupted by a click of Eddy’s fingers, and a bright flash.
“I’m going to ask you once more, where is the dark one taking them?” Eddy asked.
“To your mothers house” the man in the seat whispered.
| 2021-06-16T12:41:09 | 2021-06-16T12:19:16 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Soulmates exist. You have flashes of of what your soulmate is seeing and hearing. A lot of soulmates use these flashes in their pursuit to find their soulmate. Personally, you have no interest. The only thing you ever see is darkness and the only thing you ever hear is a constant scream.
|
All of my friends (okay, _both_ of my friends) down booze to pass their worries. I tried that, didn't like it much. Instead, I visit Gisneyland, an amusement park, almost every week.
"Oh, how we met? It's a funny story really! My now-wife shoved a rainbow bouquet into my face as I walked out of work and declared me her soulmate. A bit brash--"
"I thought it romantic! I kept seeing visions of your dull grey office building, so I introduced myself by filling your boring life with color."
"Heh, she calls that building dull, but in the end she tracked me down by using its name! What about you, my boy? Caught glimpses of your soulmate yet?"
I have, but I could never tell them.
Permanent darkness, shrill screaming, metal scraping. Every time, it's the same, and every time I awake drowned in chilling sweat.
Usually when people get these visions, they're different. They let you see what your soulmate sees, hear what your soulmate hears, and compiling the clues over time helps couples find each other. I guess that's romantic.
But I stopped caring about romance a while ago. Now I just wish I could _save_ her, from the consistent dread she must feel, wherever she is. But when each dream is the same...
Anyway, that's why I visit the park. Somehow, meeting all the couples and hearing their stories is cathartic. It's good to experience these happy endings, even if they're not your ow--
"Aaah, oof!"
Tripping on something getting off a roller coaster while lost in thought? Classic.
Ah, and just my luck, I caused a young lady to fall. Even more classic.
"Ooooh I'm so terribly sorry! I really should watch my step more carefully, haha."
"No, miss, this was definitely my fault. Are you... by yourself today?"
"At a park? Yeah, it's rather awkward of me, isn't it? But I'm sure you have heard the same story many times! Just looking for my soulmate, well, maybe 'looking' isn't the best word for it, haha."
No, actually this is a first for me. I only ever talk to couples. "So then in your visions you see--"
"Roller coasters, yes! And food stalls, stages with shows, and people everywhere too. But it's the same place every time. I never thought someone could spend so much time at a park... but not knowing _which_ park--"
"--you've gone from park to park, searching for him."
"You got it!" That's actually kind of romantic. "But you know, if I'm spending all this time in parks, I might as well have a little fun too, so I make sure to do all the rides! I never got use to it, still scream every time... Well anyway, have you seen my cane?"
Her cane? Oh, so that's what I tripped on, a red and white cane... wait...
The grinding metal, the thrilling screams, and the blinding darkness...
Suddenly, it all makes sense. There was nothing I could do to save her. Instead, she saved me.
|
It was late at night when the door of Ryan's apartment door was knocked. As he staggered off the cold wooden floor, he cursed under his breath for the late night annoyance. Once he opened up the door slightly as the chain lock stopped it in place, Ryan sighed at the sight of his friend, Tommy standing there with his face hopeful of Ryan's company.
"Tom, what are you doing here? It's late!", Ryan protested, fighting off a yawn.
Tommy gave a forced smile, hoping to ease his way to Ryan's comfort zone.
"I'm bored. Lets hang out", Tommy answered.
"Tom, for f\*ck's sake, I can't always be your crutch to fall on to anytime you feel like it! If you're lonely then you need to drop the act and finally work to find your soulmate!", Ryan said.
Tommy pouted, clearly not willing to entertain the idea. "I didn't say I was lonely, Tom. I said I was bored..."
"We both know that's what you meant", Ryan cut off, accurately getting to the point. "Tom, we can find our soulmates now. *Actually* find our soulmates. Why you never bothered to entertain the idea even slightly still boggles my mind..."
Tommy was quiet for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in his place. For the longest time he was unwilling to discuss why he was uninterested in the prospect of the "soulmate radar" as people came to call it-- flashes of images of what the other party was seeing and hearing, giving their partner a glimpse of the other's life. Not even to Ryan, his best friend, Tommy was keeping his reasoning a secret.
"Tom, if you're still going to be adamant not to tell me the reason then please...I need to go to sleep. I have to wake up early tomo..."
"Well I just...I don't know...I don't like what I'm seeing...", Tom chirped out.
Ryan raised his brow, his interest piqued.
"You don't like what you're seeing? What do you mean?", Ryan asked.
"I...", Tommy was hesitant for a minute. "I'll tell you if you tell me how you met Kate"
Ryan sighed. "Tom, I already told you multiple times how I met Kate. I..."
"Just please tell me again. I want to feel...safe sharing mine"
Ryan shook his head but he relented, unhooking the chain lock before letting Tommy went into his apartment.
"Okay, where do I start?", Ryan muttered, getting comfortable on his couch opposite Tommy.
"It was a year ago when the vision started. I saw...the ocean-- waves, sand, corals. I could smell the salt in the wind, hear the water hit her face when she dived into the sea. I knew then my soulmate lived by the sea, diving, swimming, surfing, everything about her was of the ocean"
Ryan's face glimmered as he recalled his visions while Tommy blankly listened.
"So I looked for her, aided by some landmarks I saw, I went to [SoulmateFinder.com](https://SoulmateFinder.com) and posted it. In a week, *voila*, there she was, my beautiful Kate", Ryan finished his story when he turned to Tommy.
"Okay so...tell me yours"
Tommy took a deep breath and braced himself.
"Mine is...mine is quite...terrible", Tommy started.
"Terrible how? What do you see exactly?", Ryan pressed.
"That's the thing, Rye...I don't see anything. I see darkness, just darkness"
Ryan leaned back and thought. "Maybe you haven't actually got the visions. Why didn't you say so then...?"
"No, I did. I actually did get the vision...", Tommy interjected.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because in the darkness...I hear something...", Tommy lowered his voice into a deep hush.
"What do you hear, Tom?", Ryan asked, getting more curious by the second.
"Screaming, Rye. Actual screams of terror. Almost constantly, sometime during the day, sometime during the night. But it was always there. Not only that, I also smell...wood...and mold, and stink of unwashed clothes like they've been drenched in sweat and weren't washed for ages..."
A shiver went down Ryan's back as Tommy finished his telling. He was speechless to say the least, unsure on how to help out his friend.
"Tom, I...I'm sorry. I didn't know..."
"No, it's alright. You would never know that my soulmate sees vision of hell"
For what felt like an hour the two just sat there in silence. Ryan not knowing how to help Tommy and Tommy just enjoying being with Ryan...
"Well, Tom...I don't know what to say or do to help, but I..."
"Oh it's fine, Rye. I mean, at least now you know why I don't seek out my soulmate. I'm not even sure I want to live what my soulmate is living right now..."
"Hey, don't worry , bud. Okay? Next time we hang out we'll find you someone nice the old fashioned way. Who knows, maybe we can find someone who's also down in luck in finding their soulmates", Ryan patted Tommy on his shoulder.
"What are the odds of that happening?", Tommy asked.
"Eh, I don't know. But you know, coincidences do happen", Ryan shrugged. "But for now, please, please let me sleep"
Tommy chuckled before making his way out from Ryan's apartment. Thanking his best friend for his time, Tommy made his way back to his own home-- his parents' home which he inherited where he lived by himself.
Tommy yawned as he entered his house, his heavy footsteps were dampened by the carpeted floor as he walked passed his bedroom door to another door at the other end of the house.
"Coincidences do happen", he repeated the line as he made his way down his dark basement, chuckling, seemingly entertained by it.
The dim light turned on with a flick of a switch and on the corner of the small basement, a wooden crate stood. It was crassly crafted, but it was sturdy enough and large enough for its intended purposes.
"What are the odds of me finding my soulmate before the vision started, I wonder?", he muttered to himself, knocking on the wooden crate.
As soon as he did so loud yet muffled screaming came from inside of the crate. A frightened female voice begged and pleaded to be let out.
"Please, let me out! Let me out!", she cried.
Tommy gave a huge kick to the side of the box, seemingly shutting the woman up.
"Oh, you know I can't do that...*soulmate*", Tommy hissed the last word as a sickening grin twisted and contorted on his face.
r/HangryWritey
| 2021-11-09T06:49:15 | 2021-11-09T01:52:32 | 371 | 73 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS"
|
"You want me to send... a child. A literal, actual, child?" The king shook his head. "My predecessor may have been fond of child soldiers, master prophet, but I am not."
"But surely, surely you cannot allow the entire kingdom to fall? The prophecy-"
"DAMN THE PROPHECY! We walked away from that cursed place, we chose to be better and DAMN IT!"
"So, what shall you do? You cannot hope to defeat the dark lord! Once you call prophecy from the gods it *must come true*, that's how this works. If you learn of the future it becomes written!"
The king slumped in his throne. He knew, he knew all of this. He'd learned it in the pristine academy when he was younger, his eldest brother's sacrifice for their former nation granting his family a lot of privilege.
"You cannot defeat him, sire."
The king breathed a sigh as dire as grave wind.
"There are... other ways to neutralize a threat".
The priest looked confused, and watched with some trepidation as the king began to call forth scribes and calligraphers, sending messengers to his court.
The priests eyes widened as he realized.
"YOU MEAN TO TRY DIPLOMACY? With that, that fiend?!"
The king looked to be a hundred years old in that moment, the vim and vigor of his young 20's completely lost.
"I *will* save my people. I *will not* allow another Omelas to rise on my soil. The monarchy, this monarchy, is finished. Perhaps it is for the best. One man should not have this much power over the lives of so many. In that, our dark lord is correct."
"So you mean to form an alliance?"
"Alliance? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Diplomatically we will have more options. We can win more time. He has shown himself to be open to negotiations witother nations. I cannot defeat him. But I will *not* doom a child to suffer in my stead. If I fail, it will be my burden. I will leave my people the tools to stand without me, and if I fail they will be left the means to try again."
The king rose, his confident posture and determination returning.
"I am no longer a hero, nor was I ever truly one. In fact, if my brother still lived, he'd probably call me a coward, or worse. But... but I cannot allow what you suggest. But a diplomat? This... this perhaps I can do."
|
\[Keys to Questing\]
"Damnit...," Keys sighed at the king's outburst. He was the chosen one; but, it seemed the king was hesitant about letting him do his job. After a moment's consideration, he decided to stay and try to convince the king himself.
"Your highness, I'm not an average teenager," Keys stepped closer to the throne and held his left hand out with the palm facing up. forward. A long, thin piece of metal emerged from his palm; he grabbed it with his right hand and pulled it up making it grow longer. Finally, it was free of his palm and he held a two-foot-long jagged metal rod in his right hand.
"A simple trick well executed," the king chuckled. "You're a talented magician. All the more reason not to send you to your death."
"It's not a trick," Keys replied. He flipped his hand over and began raining short pieces of grey metal down. Dozens of fragments fell to the stone ground with rapid, loud clinks. To further illustrate, he also dropped the rod and began raining metal out of his right hand. Within moments he had a pile of scraps at his feet. The king sat up straighter and looked on with interest.
"Indeed not...," the king admitted. "You know true magic?" he asked. Keys shook his head.
"It's not magic, your highness," he replied. "It's just something I can do."
"You can create metal from nothing?" the king asked. His eyes narrowed as the gears turned in his head. Then, he nodded. "I see now why you are the chosen one. GUARDS!" he shouted. A dozen armored guards rushed into the throne room and the king nodded at Keys. "Take him to the royal smithy," he ordered.
"Wait, what?" Keys asked. He shook his head as a pair of guards grabbed his arms. He held his ground when they tried to pull him away. "I need to defeat the dark lord in combat!" he said. The king looked on but did not hurry to reply to Keys' protests.
"What are you waiting for?" the king asked. Several guards were now trying to pull Keys out of the throne room; but, he was notably stronger than all of them combined.
"This isn't how this is supposed to go...," Keys grumbled to himself. "Your highness, please," Keys knelt effortlessly, despite the group of hands trying to drag him away. "Just give me permission to go fight; I could've been done already."
"Nonsense," the king shook his head. "With your talents, my army will never lack weapons or armor; you're too valuable to the kingdom now," he focused on the guards and raised his voice. "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE!?"
"I told you...," Keys stood up again and took a step forward. The simple motion somehow yanked the guards forward and off their feet. They fell onto the pile of scrap with a ruckus as Keys approached the throne. "...I'm not an average teenager." Keys held his palm facing forward and a long, thin, serrated rod shot forward out of his hand; the point stopped inches from the king's eyes.
"GUARDS!!!!!" the king yelled. The king was surrounded by the same group of armored men that could not remove Keys. They tried moving the rod out of the king's face, but they could not so much as nudge it out of place. Keys was too strong.
"Grant me permission to kill the demon lord so I can finish this quest already," Keys said. "Your trained soldiers are no match for me and neither is the demon lord."
"You dare threaten me??" the king asked. He had good intentions at first. He wanted to keep the teen safe; dying in battle was a man's job and Keys was still just a boy. He'd already proven himself capable, but that wasn't the issue anymore. The king was personally offended now. "I will not be bullied by a traitor to the kingdom," he said.
"Alright, fine," Keys shrugged, then, he shoved his hand forward a few inches and broke the rod free of his hand once it was securely through the king's head. Then, he brought his hands in front of him at about chest height and began wiggling his fingers as if he was typing on something.
The metal rod fell free and bounced on the empty throne a couple of times before falling to the floor. Despite the fact that he had murdered the king and made him disintegrate, the guards stood in place waiting for orders. A cloud of white specs gathered on the throne as Keys typed away on nothing, and in moments, a new king sat on the throne. He looked exactly the same as the previous one; but, his demeanor was different. He looked at Keys and smiled broadly.
"Ah, Chosen one!" he said. "Will you help me defeat the Dark Lord?" he asked. Keys grinned.
"Do I have your permission to defeat him?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, of course! Please bring peace to my kingdom."
"Finally!" Keys nodded with a broad smile. A text notification appeared in the top corner of his view.
\[Quest Accepted\]
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1747 in a row. (Story #301 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
| 2022-10-28T15:24:51 | 2022-10-28T08:48:41 | 127 | 42 |
[WP] People have superpowers. Yours is the ability to create a hivemind. It has grown too large and is now labeled a global threat.
|
“Leaders of the World, just because I’ve made this hive mind, doesn’t constitute any claim that I am a danger to society. The charges brought against me are completely ill-founded. I have never once invited a riot, claimed power, nor given rise to any notion that I could be labeled as “a threat to humanity.”
“To my fellow super powered brothers and sisters, please believe me that I am completely in control of my actions, and I repeat myself, ‘I am not a threat!”
The American representative stood up after I had. Completed my speech. “The concern isn’t that you have the power, but how you use it.” He lofted a piece of paper. “You have been using it as some kind of Internet forum that is a disruption to societies by using it to,” he bent further into the paper and groaned “as the youth say, to ‘shit-post.”
“Oh, come on! My memes are fire!”
|
The blackout I had planned began locally, as I was already known as the progenitor. No need to hide when you are known and well protected. Wi-fi, as well as cellular and satellite communications, were systemically and quietly shut down by technicians and engineers that had been willingly assimilated and now helped to further and guide our vision.
With undivided attention my message could be better understood.
"*We will be well. I will not control you, nor you I.*" I pushed the thought out further and further until I could feel it dissipating into the icy regions beyond where life flourished.
"We will be well." I heard a chant through the thin walls of my apartment.
"Hey! This isn't a fucking cult! Keep your own council and go live!" I shouted aloud, not even bothering to open my eyes. I hated when they started getting numb and just following orders like automatons. "So damned lazy." I mumbled irritably.
I took a calming breath and resumed my pseudo-meditation. Clearing my mind and concentrating on my own presence seemed to be the most effective way of pushing my influence further into the world and beyond.
"*Not all are welcome. None will join who are unable or unwilling. No one with hate in their heart can stay. We do not conquer. We will protect. This is MY mind. This is MY territory, and I will not be encroached upon."*
This was the message that had threatened a nuclear retaliation from a historically posturing neighbor nation a few days earlier, but I was holding firm and repeating myself for what I hoped were good reasons.
I did not speak for my country, just myself and those like me, who were surprisingly found in just about every corner of the globe. It stood to a cynical sort of reason that some idiots in seats of leadership were miffed by my sudden rise in influence.
"*We come."* An angry buzzing in the center of my being warned me of the respondent's intent. I had learned early on that keeping a clean house mentally meant that those that shared in my thoughts would help protect against intruders, and it seemed this one was well known and universally distrusted.
"*I stand ready."* I sent the message mixed with an image of a hand resting on the handle of a sheathed sword. The thought was meant to be an assurance to my allies and a warning to the aggressor. I closed my circle to include only those strong enough to answer a battle call. "*Shall we fight?"* A dull roar shook the pebbles in the street below and a strange light began to glow on the horizon. Some communicated a little differently, but I knew we were safe and that our enemies stood on the brink of annihilation.
With another deep, steadying breath, I let tendrils of probing thought seep back into the black void of the unknown again.
"*Let us be* e*ternally faithful to that which sustains, and abhor violence. I will withhold his hand. Please be still a moment."* The voice that called out was feminine. It was as alluring and urgent as a cow elk calling her calf. A breath of wind that smelled like an ocean breeze wafted past my nose, despite my closed windows and the fact that I was about three hundred miles inland.
"*Fuck, that's hot."* I couldn't help myself. I felt the left side of my face pull up in a sly smile. I'd heard her voice often since stumbling across my little gift, and I never grew tired of it. She and I were similar in style and strength, but she could influence minds quite differently than I had ever learned to. Though we'd never met in person, we had spoken often and deeply. I loved her fiercely for the wild yet carefully tempered presence of her true nature.
"*Silence. You are still heard everywhere. Do not break my concentration!"* She sounded gleefully frustrated by my antics, as she often was. We worked well together. "*I am singing him to a restful sleep. His dreams will be troubled by the consequences of war. No blood need be shed."*
"*You got it, lady. Hit me up when you are done stopping the baby's tantrum. I'm headed out for a beer."* I stood and stretched with a jaw-cracking yawn. It had taken more energy than I had anticipated to reach out that far. I needed a break.
*"Everyone else, fuck off. Systems will go back up when little mister knocks off the shit. Understood?"* I barely paid attention to the mix of grumblings and ululations of victorious joy as I closed my mind to include only my immediate neighborhood and stepped outside.
| 2022-10-29T12:52:05 | 2022-10-29T10:53:32 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
If you enjoyed, consider subscribing to my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChocolateChipWp/)! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated as well!
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 585 | 223 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole.
|
"Aye, you've heard about the devil's asshole right?"
It was more of a rhetorical question. At this point, everybody had.
A few years back, Bridgeport Connecticut experienced a minor tremor from a minor earthquake. No one thought much of it at the time, save for Mr. Hoolihan whose backyard now sported a three foot wide hole.
A carpenter by trade, Mr. Hoolihan was a real "do it yourself" kind of guy. He went out to his backyard to measure the hole that had appeared. Even with his arm fully outstretched, the yardstick he brought wouldn't even touch the bottom. He tossed a rock into the chasm but no sound echoed back.
What's interesting is that the story almost ended there. After trying to fill the hole in and bringing several landscaping teams in to inspect it, they guessed that it was some old mine shaft. They put a few two by fours over it and that was meant to be that.
Mr. Hoolihan couldn't stand it though. Something about that hole being there really gnawed at him, and when his wife was asleep, he'd go out into the backyard, move the boards, and shovel dirt in, hoping to hear it hit the bottom.
This continued for about a year, until one night when Mr. Hoolihan used an excavator his neighbor had rented to fix the landscaping damages from the quake. People aren't sure exactly what happened, but at around three, Hoolihan, the excavator, his house, and his still sleeping wife, all plummeted into the hole after it opened up to swallow his property.
After that, the site was known as "Hoolihan's hole" or the "hell hole" and most sensible folks avoided it. Those who weren't sensible saw an opportunity.
Dumping of all sorts began to enter the chasm, as shady corporations, the mafia and people too stingy to buy a permit poured waste, trash, dead bodies, and, at one point, an truck full of millions of dollars after a failed bank heist.
After that last one, the police caught on and set up a perimeter around the hole as scientists were brought in to answer questions.
"Where does the hole end?"
"Does it even end at all?"
Now if people had been paying attention to local Chinese news, they would have seen the headline: "American man and wife emerge from mysterious hole outside
Shennongjia."
|
The Hole was discovered in the Arizona wilderness in the fall of 2067, and the news outlets had an absolute field day. A sinkhole, roughly 100 yards across, deep enough that you couldn’t see the bottom of it. I thought it was just another natural disaster.
My husband, Dalton, was a sucker for a good natural disaster, though, and would read me the latest updates over our morning coffee, straight from the morning news reports as they came through on our holos.
“Listen to this, Lydia. The sinkhole has a perfectly smooth edge, as far down as they can see. Nobody can climb down into it to investigate. What kind of sinkhole does that?”
“It would take some serious guts to even want to investigate it anyway,” I’d laugh in reply.
“This report says they sent a drone into it, and lost contact with the drone,” he told me a few days later.
“Weird.”
“Local law enforcement caught someone dumping trash in the sinkhole. Unbelievable.”
You would have thought, over the course of a year, that people would forget about the hole. That it would turn into one of those things that had captured national attention for a few days and then fizzled out. Instead, it became a tourist destination. People came from all over the globe to see the Hole With No Bottom. Suicides happened there. An entire cult formed around it, worshipping the Hole for six months until all the cult members threw themselves into it. A special department of the national government was created, to investigate and own the Hole, and issue permits for people who wanted to explore or utilize the Hole for their own purposes.
“We should stop by the Hole on our next vacation,” Dalton decided.
I agreed. After all, it was intriguing, even if it was just a Hole. It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
Dalton wanted to see the smooth inner edge. He had jumped the guardrail, and was leaning over the edge when the ranger saw him and yelled for him to get back. Startled, Dalton lost his footing and fell into the hole.
Nobody had any interest in helping me rescue him. The local authorities felt that he should have paid attention to the warning signs, the National Guard wasn’t going to risk their officers down a hole nothing had ever returned from. He should have known better, they told me.
I was furious.
And so I started to plan, obsessively reading everything I could about what we knew about the Hole. I began researching geology- how far could a hole physically go into the earth? What government agencies could give me permission, or barring that, need to be avoided for a trip into the Hole?
Six months passed, and I had a handmade but well-built harness and crane system, that would lower me up to 10 miles into the hole and pull me back up when I pressed the button. My plan was to sneak to the Hole overnight, when fewer people would be around to stop me.
A knock on my door rang out through my messy house. I opened the door to find an elderly man on my porch.
“Lydia,” he said, as though I was his lifeline, eyes tearing up.
“Can I help you?” I asked, confused.
“I’m sure you don’t recognize me. It’s alright. It’s been a very long time.” he smiled. “It’s me, Dalton.”
I laughed aloud. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not joking.” The old man pulled a misshapen, worn gold band off his left hand and held it out to me. After staring at it for a minute, I noticed the engraving on the inside- our wedding date.
“Oh.” It was all I could manage to say, so many questions forming in my head I couldn’t even speak.
“Can I come in?” He asked after a long minute of silence.
“Only if you explain everything,” I managed to say.
He shuffled slowly inside, sitting down gingerly in the chair he always loved. “It’s like nothing’s changed. Well. A little more disorganized.” He winked.
“Shut up. I’ve been planning your rescue. I don’t have time to clean,” I snapped, then felt guilty. “Sorry. I’m just... please, explain what happened,” I begged.
Dalton nodded. “It’s... sort of a wormhole.”
“A wormhole.”
“Yes, that’s what we’ve been calling it, although it’s not entirely accurate. When I fell in, well, I don’t remember what happened too clearly, but I woke up in the year 2010, in France. Near the Large Hadron Collider.”
I nodded.
“Apparently, an experiment they ran opened these wormholes. We’re not sure how many, or where they all are, or even when they all are. One of our researchers jumped in, and archaeologists dug up one of his letters from prehistoric times in a cave in Malta.”
“That’s insane,” I told him.
“It’s true though. I’ll show you the letters sometime.”
“So how did you find out there were more?” I asked.
“People dump things in the holes. Trash. Coins, like a wishing well. The dates on the coins tell us when they came from.” He pulled a golden coin out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I looked it over. “9047!”
He smiled. “I knew you’d enjoy that. Anyway, CERN is working to get them closed, but nobody knows how. Right now, they’re just trying to get the message out to stop throwing things in these holes. Some of the things people are putting in them is dangerous. We think there was an incident in the 3000s involving guns. Besides, they don’t think they can close while things are traveling through them.”
I nodded, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Then, um, there’s an article you might want to read.”
“What is it?” Dalton asked.
I pulled out my holo, located the article, and handed it to him.
“UNITED STATES PLEDGES TO DESTROY NUCLEAR ARSENAL.” The headline read.
“They’re going to dump them in the Hole, aren’t they?” Dalton asked.
I nodded.
“This... could be the end of the world.”
| 2022-06-02T19:21:41 | 2018-01-13T09:37:59 | 4,551 | 27 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
|
I’m lying in a bed on a tuesday night.
And I’m having restless dreams.
And then I awake from a story where I’m rescuing a princess from a wheel of cheese. Because there’s a chainsaw on my nightstand.
A groggy hand reaches over and slaps it reluctantly. Is it morning...a alarm? Some long lost love looking for luscious life-experiences? But no… a text message. Is it my wife? Will she be late tonight?
“DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”
So I make a curious eye sweep of the room. I pause at my window, where the forbidden object lies, and return my gaze in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
So, eyes squeezed shut, I walk over to the window. Just in case. I have a moment of panic when I trip on a errant pair of pants, but I right myself quickly. Then, in a fleeting, fluttering, futile gesture, I bravely bring down the blinds.
With that dangerous task complete, I sprint back to my bed, as if its covers will protect me from whatever has infested the sky.
Perhaps it’s just a joke, or the product of a overtaxed imagination. But somehow I know to be afraid.
Buzz.
Another a text? More instructions? Is there something else I’m not supposed to look at?
It’s from a old coworker. A good friend.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
I peek out from beneath my blanket bastion. A windows shuttered and silent. A door, barely open, with a crooked mouth along its length, mocking me.
Should I close it? No. Too dangerous. So I close my eyes and whisper.
“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
Buzz.
Another text message. Perhaps I shouldn’t…
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.” from my best man.
Then a bing. A different app, I have so many.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
And then my phone begins to shake and chatter, with bings and chimes and whistles. Each one is like a stab in my stomach. What’s happening? What’s happening?
Then bit by bit, the phone sounds die out.
Then a new sound. A ringing. A bold, unique choice for a ringtone in this day and age, but I’ve always been a trend setter.
It’s my wife. Is she safe? Does she know what’s happening?
And before I can catch myself, I hit the answer button.
(Part 1? Sorry for a cliffhanger, it was getting long)
(r/StannisTheAmish)
|
The silk curtains fluttered in the cold November winds, brushing ever so softly on Evelyn's shoulder. With its cool touch, Evelyn slept soundly. A distant owl cooed, the falling leaves danced in the night. As the darkness grew dense and empty, the moon burned bright in the sky. Not a single cloud in the sky, the beige red moon hung high bursting through the black sea. While Evelyn slept, her phone began to buzz, shining bright in her dark room. Vibrating against her nightstand, her phone buzzed and shone, soon the owl had ceased cooing. Evelyn turned over frustrated, freeing herself from her blanket cocoon. The cold air washed over her milky white skin sending goosebumps along her arms and back. Fumbling for her phone in the darkness, she grasped it tight and brought it with her under the cover of her blankets. Warm and cozy, Evelyn wiped the sleep from her eyes, letting out an enormous yawn. The phone began vibrating again, another post, then another, an another. Soon new posts were flooding her home screen. Instagram, facebook, and snapchat, all tagging Evelyn, messaging her. Atop all the social media posts, Evelyn noticed the SMS message from her girlfriend Samantha. In all caps, with no context read a message, "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". Evelyn laid there confused, her mind still fuzzy from sleep. She peered her head out from the covers, he alarm clock in the corner of the room read 3:12AM, she had school in only a few hours.
Retreating back under her covers, she sat there confused and angry. Racing thoughts began filling her head, all the other messages were saying how beatiful the full moon looked tonight, how big and bright it was. Yet, through all the messages, Samantha was the only one to tell her not to look. And in all caps, the scared Evelyn, why would Samantha say that. It began to worry her as her phone continued receiving dozens of messages at once. With an eerie sense of being overwhelmed, Evelyn dropped her phone off her bed, landing flat down on her carpet. Breathing a sigh of relief, Evelyn tried resting her eyes and drift back to sleep. While she tried sleeping, a nagging suspicion began building in her stomach. She couldn't shake the weirdness she felt with the messages. Why was everyone messaging her about the moon? why did Samantha say not to look?. While the thoughts continued to race, Evelyn peered out from her covers looking towards the window. Through the darkness was a dull light, a light high in the sky that could only be coming from one place. While the nagging feeling in her gut, Evelyn swallowed her fears and buried herself under the covers. Something didn't seem right, she wouldn't look.
While her mind continued to wander, feint footsteps began creeping up the stairs. Living in an old house had it issues, one of them being creaky floor boards. Evelyn figured it was her mother going to bed for the night, she always stayed up late watching nature documentaries. Unable to sleep, Evelyn once again emerged from her cocoon of blankets and looked towards the door. The hall light switched on, illuminating under door. Who ever it was stood beyond her door. As the door knob turned ever so slightly, Evelyn contemplated being asleep, she felt hot and nervous. With a thin push, the door swung open. Blocking the hall light like an eclipse, her mother stood motionless. Evelyn laid with her blankets pulled up towards her nose. She called out to her mother, asking if she was alright. Unable to see her face through the darkness, her mothers head twisted sharply to the right.
Evelyn's stomach dropped, the room seemed to go completely silent. Her neck made a nauseating cracking sound, Evelyn cried out in disgust. Still, her mother said nothing, she took a faint step forward. Tears were bubbling in Evelyn' eyes as her mother walked towards the bed with her head at a right angle. She stood over her, looking at her sideways. Her mouth groaned open, letting out a foul smell that took Evelyn back. Her mother let out in a raspy, sinister voice to get up. Evelyn rose slowly, without saying anything her mother pointed towards the window. The window where a dull light was burning bright in the sky. Evelyn chocked and sniffled, her mother disfigured and cold stood pointing. Peering through the window, Evelyn noticed her calm neighborhood, a place she was quiet fond of. And through the darkness, shapes began to form. Soon she was able to recognize groups of people huddled around one another, staring up at the sky. The only thing visible in the sky tonight was the large full moon. With its blotchy dark spots and cool whites of orange, Evelyn took it in sharply.
Her eyes burned, her skin went cold. As the consciousness left her body, Evelyn dropped limp to the floor with a crash. Her mother, grabbed her and dragged her outside. Awaking later which felt like an entirety for her, she was transfixed upon the moon. Her eyes peeled wide, her mouth agape. She couldn't stop staring. As the moon burned brightly, the orange hues began pulsating, growing larger. As the crowd of wide eyed, gaped mouth onlookers watched in awe, an arching beam of light shot out from the moon. The crowd reacted with shock and awe. A meteor began burning bright, heading down towards earth. The flaming objected reflected brightly in the onlookers eyes and the cold night swept on. Unable to move or think, they continued to stare. The goosebumps grew larger on Evelyns arms, her lips blue, teeth chattering. Through her fog, a voice pierced through her and everyone in the crowd. Samatha cried out for Evelyn down the block. Like a switch, the crows diverted their attention to Samantha. She stood under a lone street lamp. The crowds heads began turning to the right, an orchestra of cracking, Evelyns neck snapped easily. As Samantha cried out in horror. The meteor crashed in a field yards away, the night lighting up in a fiery orange explosion. The crowd didn't flinch, Samantha turned to run as a thunderous animal roar bellowed from within the crash. The crowd dropped limp to the ground. Evelyn' blank stare fixed on Samantha darting back into the darkness as the ground had a violent tremor as the being grew closer.
| 2022-05-11T14:02:28 | 2018-04-06T18:29:33 | 314 | 43 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to hear thoughts. As a psychologist, you have listened to the thoughts of the depressed, the psychopathic, and the insane, you've listened to it all. A patient enters, and you can hear only silence.
|
I misread psychologist as psychiatrist, but I won’t rewrite it because I’m lazy.
Silence. I didn’t even notice him walk in, until I heard the door close. I spun around in my chair to face him as I listened. The man was average height, with dark hair cropped to form a revolting line falling over the top of his forehead. His eyes moved in a slow, determined way, scanning every object in the room like it was a piece of lunch meat and every movement he made was eerily slow and smooth.
“Uh, please make yourself seated,” I squeaked, gesturing to the armchair closest to me. “And if you need a glass of water, there’s a dispenser in the corner.”
“Thank you, Dr. Lerner.”
Perhaps his most striking characteristic was his skin: it was drained of all color, appearing as a mottled light gray that reflected my office lights.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.
“I find myself distressed, unable to...connect with people. I need them to trust me.”
“Who is ‘them’?”
He turned to look at me, and immediately my head exploded with noise. It took all my willpower to stay in my chair. There were no thoughts behind his cold, expressionless eyes, just a mess of white noise, screeches and static, that filled my mind. Instinctively, I reached for the peppery spray in my bag, and covertly placed it on the desk.
“*Them,*” he hissed with an arbitrary gesture towards the window, “All of them. Every single one, even you. They should trust me. I know what’s best for them. I *am* what’s best for them.”
With every word he spoke, the noise got louder, but clearer. I could make out some sort of pattern from the cacophony, a rapid pattern of high and low beeps. Eight beeps, seemingly random, then a pause, making my head throb. Another eight, pause. I fumbled for an aspirin, nervously stuttering through my next question.
“H-have you had any recent trouble with family, uh, a relationship that went south, or—“
“Legal troubles. They don’t trust me. They’re fools! Can’t they see what they’ve done?! They ruined everything, my plan, my—“
“Sir, deep breaths, let’s try to calm down a little—“
“RUINED!”
As he spat this last word, I caught a view of his tongue. His *forked* tongue, snaking over countless rows of serrated teeth. The patient must have seen me gab my pepper spray, because he lunged at me, clawing at the air.
He was too slow. I sidestepped and caught him with the spray right in the eyes, sending him—it—flailing over the desk. As his flesh contorted into scales, I pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall, stumbling over his torso in the process. For a brief moment, his corporate name tag was visible beside his necktie.
I took a deep breath and lifted the fire extinguisher above his head.
“Goodbye, Mr. Zuckerberg.”
|
Usually, their thoughts precede them; I know who they are even before they touch the doorknob, before they even enter the building. I can hear (for the lack of a better word) their worries, their fears, their internal neverending monologue governing every aspect of their lives. Sometimes those trains of thoughts are broken, misfigured, without a discernible beginning or end, jumping from one train station to another and then back. Other times, they can be neatly ordered, like passengers waiting to board, waving at the train conductor.
However it was, they are always there, always a sound (even though there are no sounds) in their minds, controlling their actions, the words they say, the way they interact with other people around them. Oftentimes, it is not without a challenge; human thoughts and thinking patternsare unique to a person, much like a fingerprint, and finding your way in that maze can be quite difficult. And it's not like there are books or guides on the subject, describing practices that help in reading someone's thoughts.
But you don't have to understand them, not really, not always, it's enough for them to just be there, like a comforting murmur of a spring wind caressing solemn treetops. I don't remember the last real silent moment I had in my life, uninterrupted by a random thought that wasn't even mine... up until she walked into my office and almost gave me a heart attack.
It was the sound of her voice I heard before anything else, which never ever happens, not to me, not in this life. My brain didn't yet register that something was wrong, that something was out of the ordinary, and my heart was already pumping faster, my body was warning me of potential danger. I got so used to my ability I completely neglected all of my other senses and when I finally turned to face her, she was already sitting in front of my desk, in a brown leather chair, her legs crossed, her arms calmly resting in her lap, her eyes fixed on my face.
I don't know whether the gasp I made was audible or just in my mind, but she smiled regardless, sending into oblivion any coherent thought that was about to form in my mind. She was completely clad in black, with black, shoulder-length hair, black fingernails and a black heart-shaped pendant on a black string around her neck.
I wanted to ask her a million questions, but I couldn't, I couldn't think, what with her being here, and what with that deafening silence that now surrounded us, strangling me. It was a while before I realized she asked a question, again, using her voice, but I didn't hear it this time either. How could I? My mind was struggling with this situation, with this impossible turn of events – there was a person, a living, breathing person, right in front of me, looking at me, asking me questions... but she wasn't there, not really, there was no presence of her in my mind, and there should be, I was certain of this.
„I asked you if you've had enough by now“, she said, and this time I managed to catch her words.
„I don't... who are you?“, I stumbled over my own words.
She was amused, I could tell by the corner of her mouth and by the glint in her cold, gray eyes.
„I'm the one who gave you what you wanted, all those years back. Does it not please you?“
How could I possibly decipher those words? They were utterly meaningless to me and I couldn't get anything else from her, no matter how much I tried. I just now realized how easy it was for me, before. I didn't have to pay attention to all the subtle signs someone's body was sending, to all the hidden meanings behind spoken words... I could just tune to the person's thinking and find out immediately what they really meant, which made my job infinitely easier. With her, however...
She drew out a long sigh, probably after realizing my confusion will not disperse anytime soon.
„Very well. I guess the big guy also erased your memory, he's nothing if not thorough. However, considering your ability, we could make this process much faster andmore comfortable. For me, at least.
Pay attention now. Try to see what I'm thinking.“
And I did what I was told. Thoughts usually coming naturally to my brain, like a sound to my ears would, I was not used to actively search out someone's thinking. But after a while, I could hear, in my mind, a slow susurration coming from her, as if someone was pouring water into a tub upstairs from me. When I concentrated on that sound, I could hear it even better, but it was now a soft conversation of a group of people. As I was listening to it, it grew even louder, until it overwhelmed and I found myself wanting to build walls to keep the sound out of my brain.
It felt like a stream of information was uploaded directly into my mind. Rather than a train of thought, this was all at once, all the thoughts a person would think in a day sent to me in a single second. Almost as if the said train ran me over and then backed up to do it again. I wanted to scream with pain, but I couldn't do anything until it was over. It was but a moment, but it felt like months, years even. And when it passed... I knew. My brain somehow processed all of that information and from that moment on I understood.
„So I'm... dead?“, I asked, sheepishly.
„Yes and no. You've been dead for a couple of seconds now. But also for several years. You're living in a time bubble created by the big guy.“
„Why... why all this?“
Her perfectly lined black eyebrows went up a couple of notes.
„Why? Well, you asked me for this! You're the one who told me you've always wanted to peek inside human thoughts, to find out what's going on behind the words theywere saying. You're the one who thought it would be a good idea to do this all over again, but only with that little change in your life. I was curious, so I granted you this. Is it not what you thought it would be?“
I sank into my chair harder than the Titanic. My entire life, everything I did, every relationship I had and lost, every person I fixed... it was all meaningless. It was just a game, nothing more. Even worse – I did all of it to myself.
After a couple of moments, she spoke again:
„Would you like to leave with me now?“
I nodded. I didn't want to be a part of this illusion anymore. And never again.
„You mortals fascinate me. Come. Follow me.“
And I did.
| 2018-04-25T04:18:58 | 2018-04-25T00:49:30 | 56 | 22 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that.
|
My coffee shop was nice. Designs chosen from pictures of a mid-50s shop I once saw mixed with a little western. Booths on either side along the walls, with tables occupying the center. It was a night-time hobby of mine to keep me busy during my later years. The wife and I, God rest her soul, always wanted to open up a small little shop in the heart of New York. The clientele that frequented weren't the usual run-of-the-mill people. I never asked questions and they kept their private business away, or so I had hoped. The handcrafted mahogany tables, that I had had special made, were currently being used as projectiles in an ongoing battle. Three versus six. The six had come in during a slow evening, only three customers in.
"Oi, old man." Said the, presumed, leader of the group. He was about 6ft, well built, wearing the same black suit, white shirt, and black tie as the rest. His tone made me stiffen slightly. I knew they were here to cause trouble. "We don't like the kind of folk you keep serving in here." And that was all he needed to say before the three jumped into action. The red-headed girl jumped off her stool and sprinted at the group with fire in her hands, she ducked a swing and replied in kind with a jet of flesh-melting fire to the assailants chest. Her name was Grace. Young, beautiful, deadly, and wearing a hoodie that was ever-so-slightly too big for her.
The second of the three didn't even need to move, he started picking up chairs and, much to my disdain, tables and began launching them at the group. Two of the six were sidelined instantly by the initial barrage of improvised projectiles. His name was Vincent and he was a brick shithouse of a man.
The third vanished and reappeared behind the leader and took him on a little trip, presumably, out into the ocean. That was Jack's favourite way of disposal. I didn't know how old Jack was but he looked about 15. Too young to be doing this sort of thing but here he was. Fighting alongside two others to "protect" my little slice of heaven. There were only two men left standing and the both screamed and exited as fast as humanly possible. The fight was over as quickly as it started. I hadn't even stopped wiping down cutlery. The three turned to me with apologetic looks on their face. I just sighed and shrugged.
"Vincent, throw those three out in the backstreet. Jack, get that man out of the ocean. And Grace? Put that fire out." I appreciated their help, even if at times they went a little overboard. All three offered to help pay for repairs but I waved them away.
"It's fine. I appreciate the help, and your continued patronage." I said with a smile. "However, I am going to have to close for the night and get this sorted asap. Now out with you." I shooed them out to protests and locked the doors. Smiling to myself I flexed my shoulders. I myself had a superpower even if I only used it to repair my shop at least once a week.
|
"So then the guy pulls a gun out, and well... you know the story from th-"
"OH MY GOD!"
The group of supposed friends stopped in place and looked upon the cafe the frequented. The modest hole-in-the-wall coffee bean shop looked as though there was some sort of struggle. The windows were broken, some of the bar stools and tables were laying in the street, broken; there was even the handle to a ceramic mug.. though the rest of it was yet to be seen. The most heartbreaking part of this obvious violent struggle was the sign that usually hing above the door, now lay in splinters. The words, "Doc's Place" were no longer legible, but the D in it remained unscathed.
A few of them ran inside to see what happened, but Maria, AKA BloodHound the city's masked private eye detective and night time vigilante investigated the scene. What first caught the detective off guard was the lack of any police investigation. "If there was a huge struggle, why were the police not called?" She murmured to herself while examining a shard of glass. "Maybe the mob paid them off?" She was once more surprised to find the shatter pattern to be coming out of the restaurant. She then recalled the furniture. Perhaps thrown threw it...?
Inside, the disaster seemed much more appalling. Doc was nowhere to be found, and so Alexandra, AKA Power Kat, hopped over the barista bar and hurried into the back kitchen. This left Derrick and Pedro, AKA Guy Glory and QuetzalCoatal, to try and piece together what may have have happened.
"Anything Q?" Guy asked while using his super vision to see any impressions left on the floor.
"Nada... No familiar scents. Place is wrecked, bro." The undercover hero replied. His tongue tasted the air briefly. "If anything happened here, it happened a while ago."
"14 hours ago, to be precise..." Bloodhound replied, stepping throught the door. "It's strange... no blood, no gore, not even a fingerprint..."
Meanwhile in the back, Power Kat was relieved to find their favorite barista seemingly unscathed. Doc was back there, cleaning up some mugs in the sink. "What da- oh, hey there Alex... Sorry, I forgot to put up an open sign. Don't worry, I'll finish up here in a sec and get your guys' regular orders in a jiffy." Doc said as though he weren't standing in the middle of a thorough trashing.
She let out a sigh of relief as Doc went back to cleaning. "Are you okay though? What happened?" She asked, closing the distance between them.
"Heh, I'm fine kitty cat." He looked back at her with a smile. "No need to go and frown. Don'tcha know? It's easier to smile."
Alexandra sighed and left him to his dishes, though not without a passing hand on the shoulder. She rejoined the group in the destroyed cafe as a table was stood up along with a couple chairs.
Now, if anyone were to hazard a guess to this group being college friends coming to chew the fat early in the morning at a little niche-coffee shop, they would be wrong. You see, each of them are in fact heroes and or vigilantes of some description. Are they a super crime-fighting team? No. In fact each of them are loners who sometimes happen to cross paths every so often.
Pedro is actually the reincarnation of an Incan god. He possesses powers of flight, strength, and superhuman senses as well as the power to breath fire. When his powers first arose, he found himself without any who would understand.
Derrick was a military and DARPA experiment gone wrong. He was supposed to be the next super soldier, but then they turned tail on him and tried to strike all evidence from the record due to some unethical chemicals being used. Long story short, he ran away.
Maria used to be a police officer, but when the department turned dirty, she gave up the badge and took up a mask and decided to expose them. She succeeded, and is still chasing down the mob who turned those cops dirty.
Alexandra was in line to become an olympic body builder. Then, one day, they told her that she was ineligible because they assumed she was using some sort of drugs to enhance herself unfairly. Nothing was proven, but because of that, she lost the chance to be a real competitor. So instead, she decided to beat the snot out of any drug dealer, or bank robber she could find. Over time, she became bulletproof, insanely strong, and skillfully nimble.
All of these heroes were loners, but enjoyed each others company on their time off. In truth, it was Doc's place that brought them together. It was the only 24 hour place that still used real coffee beans that wasn't overly crowded all the time. It gave them time to brood, to talk and eventually to become comfortable.
"Here ya go. Sorry for the wait. Got a lot to clean up." He chuckled while setting the yable with four mugs with creamer and sugar. The old barista then went about wiping off the counter, casing glass to tinkle off the floor as it fell.
"Doc. What happened?" Guy Glory asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"Oh, just some rough customers. Nothing serious." He said nonchalantly.
"Did you call the police?" Power Kat asked.
"Hmm... naw. I'm not gonna press charges." He replied, to which QuetzaCoatal nearly spat out his coffee.
"Why the hell not? You crazy?" He said with anger. "The police need to know!"
"Naw, they don't. To be honest, I'm surprised something like this didn't happen sooner." Doc chuckled. "Always knew this is what the next step would be."
He sighed out a long aigh, letting his age get to his face. "It's hard to be angry anymore. You youngin's with your supervision and ready to jump at the drop of a hat." Jhe shook his head and leaned down to pick up the pieces of a mug. "Whenever one of you would break a mug, you'd get upset and try to apologize... it's just a mug. If there's anything that can be said about it, it's are you okay?"
He gave them all a look. They couldn't meet it. "I'm not mad about the mugs, or the floor, or the tables, or the store. Too hard to be angry about stuff like that. It's what I told the kid last night too. He broke my mug and asked if I was upset. I told him no. So he broke another... and another... then my shop. I tried saving him..."
"Don't worry doc." Bloodhound replied. "We can still save him... like you saved us..."
Doc chuckled. "That's all I need to hear. Go and pay it forward."
| 2018-10-20T23:09:29 | 2018-10-20T22:47:10 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] An alien, a centuries-old vampire, and a werewolf raised by wolves go to college. They dorm with a human and do their best to blend in and act natural while infiltrating humanity. The human realized day one they weren't normal - But the daily theatrics are too amusing to let them know that
|
Every day starts the same.
John jumps when the microwave beeps for his instant ramen—which he consistently insists tastes *incredible*. (It's instant ramen. I've had it many times. He cannot find it to be that good, especially when he eats it every day *for fucking breakfast*.) Aaron covers his ears and clumsily rushes to get the kettle off of the stove, always managing to burn himself but still refusing to care, as it angrily whistles. Luca sits in the little communal lounge area with the lights off as he drinks what he continually assures me is tomato juice.
It's all funny to me, really. After pretty obviously exposing themselves, all on separate occasions, they continue to act as *human* as possible.
Of course, they are not.
Most obviously, because he sucks at acting mortal, Luca is a vampire. He takes all the night classes he can, he insists that he can't go outside in daylight due to a "sun allergy"—which I do acknowledge exists but that's not the point—and he has his "tomato juice" every day. It does not look at all like tomato juice. He's a dumb fuck, and that only makes it more hilarious to me.
Next is Aaron, the werewolf. He hates squirrels, loves the dorm complex's mailboy, and hates high pitched noises. The biggest nail in the coffin is that he gets "drunk" every full moon—AKA once a month—and goes missing. The next day, he's usually found naked on the football field. He's also very hairy, but that's just circumstantial.
Last, which took me considerably longer to piece together, John is an alien. When he initially moved in, I thought he was from a *very* "third-world country" background because he didn't even know how a computer worked until I showed him. Over time, I've heard/seen him talking about space, speaking with such knowledge and fondness that it's a red—or rather *green*—flag. He still has trouble using basic things. I caught him breaking the door last month because he forgot how it opened and tried to bust it open.
"Easy, John. It's not going to kill you," I mumble as I stumble sleepily into the kitchen. I throw open the cereal cupboard—because Aaron insisted we have an entire space dedicated to cereal—and begin to rifle through it to find something to eat.
"I know that," John hisses in reply as he struggles to get the microwave open. Aaron has to reach over and pull the door open for him. "It just distracts me."
"You must have a very odd definition of "distract," then."
I hear Aaron sniffing behind me, and I turn to look at him as he says, "You smell gross."
I give a momentary smirk.
"Thanks. I feel gross, too."
"Leave the cereal-eater alone, Aaron. He is in distress," Luca mutters from the other side of the relatively small shared dorm.
I look over at him.
"Distress?" I repeat.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because of the girl you are seeing. You are not taking to her well, but you are too afraid to say anything. She is obviously not your type anyway. Her blood type is O."
I raise a brow at Luca and set down the box of cereal I've selected.
"And *how*, exactly, do you know her blood type?" I asked lightly. I'm getting tired of this.
He seems to falter momentarily, but then, quite defensively, he barks, "I asked her!"
I roll my eyes.
"You are a mystery, Luca."
"Good."
John practically falls over a chair when there's a knock at the door.
"It's David!" Aaron shouts before bounding away to greet the beloved mailboy—poor David.
I can't help a laugh.
The two exchange greetings, Aaron's much more cheerful and exuberant than the other's. The interaction lasts for all of two minutes before David leaves.
"How did you know it was him, Aaron?" I ask once the young man comes back to begin drinking his coffee, which he's now been trying to make for a good five minutes.
"I smelled him!"
John looks slightly alarmed, but I make no effort to point it out. Instead, I shrug.
"Must have a good nose, then."
"Of course! He smells like coffee and mint! He smells great!"
I look over at Aaron and can't help a small smile as I notice his contagious happiness.
"Good job, bud. You know your smells well."
*Never a boring day.*
|
"Winthorpe is a vampire, without a doubt, babe—I saw his tongue light on fire after he took a bite of that Parmesan Garlic Shrimp Scampi we made the other day." Johnathan gazed across the campus greens, watching people mull about a summer student gathering with vendors, campus resource tents, plus student groups and alliances.
Sarah licked her lips and reminisced with a briefly held blink, rubbing her belly over the lavender Gucci Mane Bubblebath Funtime sweater she wore, "oh... babe, that was a killer dinner. I was expecting you to fuck it up, but you really made that dish your bitch. I didn't hear a word from any of your roommates, and I can't tell if Xotislyt even has an actual mouth—I never saw him eat a bite, but the end of dinner his food was gone—like, all of it."
"I... love you, too? Have I fucked any of your expectations into the ground with my cooking recently?" Johnathan pulled a chunk of ice from his tea and tossed it down her sweater. "You haven't bathed today, or last night. Maybe they didn't say anything because you stink. I'm going to withhold sex later if you ditch me halfway through meal prep to play fetch with Buster again."
Sarah engaged her fiercest pout and grabbed a handful of ice, throwing a piece to distract Johnathan in order to get her hand around his collar and dump her load down his back. "That's gaslighting, you're evil. I'm going to tell you mom you withhold basic life necessities, and she should gift you a beating next Christmas sine you'll have coal in your stocking anyways."
"Gaslighting, please—you once said the reason I don't talk to my dad anymore is because I wore dresses when I was younger—now you make me wear a dress on special occasions because 'it grew on you." Johnathan scooped the ice from the boxer-ridge along his ass crack and threw it at a squirrel nibbling on a piece of garbage near a tree.
"And because I wanted to make a dress for your beautiful six armed reptilian roommate; his serpent tail has feathers, Johnathan. Like a fucking Peacock. Actually, he's not a bird so that makes him ten times as beautiful. I would've broken up with you if you got a roommate with a bird—I hate birds, Johnathan."
A smirk rode across Johnathan's face, remembering the pigeon on the train incident. "You do hate birds."
"And I'm the only reason Xotislyt stopped making that high pitched screeching sound; the microwave was threatening to us telepathically, Johnathan. If I didn't convince him people were signing up for plastic surgery to add fake arms on the reg someone might've died." Sarah mimicked her brains falling out of her ears.
Johnathan shook his head, "I don't think any of them are dangerous."
Sarah shot Johnathan with a dart of heavy side-eye, "excuse me, what? Buster ate a raccoon whole, yesterday. That's why I had to give him a bath. The easiest way to dry him off is to play fetch outside, none of the neighbors were around."
"He doesn't have fur during the day, babe."
Sarah grabbed Johnathan's arm, burying her face in his chest.
johnathan gave Sarah's head a loving pat, idly scrolling through pictures on his phone. "At least quell your lady boner and put some pants on him next time, please?"
Sarah smirked into Johnathan's chest and gave a sort of half-giggle, knowing she'd been caught 'mirin. "That pasta was incrrredible, I wish I had more right now," Sarah whined with an exaggerated groan. "You said you saw Winthorpe's tongue light on fire? You think because of the garlic?" Sarah let go of Johnathan's arm and leaned back to her original position, watching Johnathan scroll through photos of his roommates.
Johnathan settled on a photo of Winthorpe eating dinner from the previous night. "Like a piece of flash paper at first, but the sauce sort of just sizzled away on his tongue. You didn't hear him yelp in pain?"
Sarah shook her head, "I was too busy being distracted by the juxtaposition between Xotislyt and Buster's table manners."
Johnathan nodded, "Buster has some serious work to do on that front. It took me 20 minutes to clean the floor around the table." Johnathan groaned at the thought of the bathroom yet to be cleaned. "Winnie couldn't resist that pasta though."
Sarah held her hands in front of her mouth and gave a stern look. "I was wondering why he made that silly doily float in front of his face while he ate. So he definitely has telekinesis."
"Indeed, he ate that entire dish. I didn't even know vampires could enjoy human food. I'm mostly surprised you didn't see the fireworks show going off behind his napkin. Who uses the word doily, anyways? You're such a grandma."
"Hey, punk, my grandma collects doily's and she's a cool ass lady."
"Yea," Johnathan gave an admitting nod, "she is a cool ass lady. Think she can keep a secret?"
"OHHHH," Sarah's eyes lit up at a thought, "I bet Buster would LOVE Gam-gam!"
"Whoa, craebae-" Johnathan held his hands up like he'd made a mistake, "it was just a thought. Let's not go scheduling any play-dates."
Sarah laughed a bit, 'yea, yea, that's," she shuddered with obvious apprehension in her eyes, "like, a later thing."
"Or like a never thing, babe" Johnathan put a hand on her shoulder. "Once she figures it out she'll recognize the other two, and she's never forgiven you for that vampire prank, Also, hello, protestant?"
Sarah deflated a bit, "oh, right, Jesus doesn't get along with vampires." She kicked some dirt at her feet, gazing at some students playing volleyball. "Have you spoken much to Xotislyt about school? He said he wants to try out for theatre club."
Johnathan's eyes widened in surprise. "Theater? Like dramas and musicals and shit?"
Sarah exhaled a cloud of vapor from her cannabis vaporizer and coughed a short, "Hyup," before passing her boyfriend the device.
Johnathan gingerly grabbed the vape and took a deep pull, enjoying the momentary silence of thought they shared. "What I want to know is why nobody else around campus seems to realize who or what they are? Buster took a shit on a library desk last week and people congratulated him for thinking of such an original prank; I would've been embarrassed to sit with him except everyone was laughing so hard nobody even noticed me. It's painfully obvious our roommates aren't human, yet everyone treats them like popular freshman."
Sarah stared across the field silently for a moment while stroking her fingers across the back of Johnathan's hand. "I've thought about the exact same thing—the only thing I can think of is the house. They're comfortable at the house, so they let their guard down and don't realize we can see them for what they are. But out in public, and on campus, and like, at the grocery store when Xotislyt tried to fight that giant stack of multi-colored sodas because it was taller than him, nobody notices anything different about them at all. It's got to be telepathic, or magic or something."
Johnathan nodded, "I wouldn't be surprised. Telepathic alien isn't that far of a leap from telekinetic Vampire."
Sarah leaned her head on Johnathan's shoulder, "Are you certain you want to take them to the Zoo tomorrow still?"
Johnathan gazed down at Sarah and smiled slyly, "Well I mean, we kind of have to right? For science?"
Sarah beamed with a burst of laughter, "I have always wondered what would happen if you let a werewolf loose in the zoo. We might need a baby harness."
| 2018-12-23T20:21:59 | 2018-12-23T19:50:44 | 585 | 33 |
[WP] You're walking in the mall, and see a group of friends about to take the escalator. You can't believe your eyes; one of them is a centaur, but nobody seems to notice. "You guys know I don't like escalators. I'll go take the elevator and meet you up there," it says. Then it notices you staring.
|
I hear laughter and glance over toward the escalator. A group of friends is standing at the base. An impossibly tall woman is standing in the middle of them. She is more than a head taller than each of them.
“I still can’t believe that you’re afraid of escalators,” one of the other girls says. I feel myself redden, because that’s exactly why I’m standing by the elevator.
The tall woman just smiles. She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. I blush more and quickly turn away, pressing the up button on the elevator.
I hear this sound next. This sound I can only describe as hooves hitting the tile floor. I look back and the tall woman is standing just behind me. She is not what I thought. She is tall, with long, impossibly curly black hair, and deep green eyes. What really gets me is her lower half. I’ve never seen her like. I’ve never seen a centaur before.
The elevator opens and I step inside. She follows. I keep glancing at her, until the door closes. “What floor?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice level. I fail miserably.
“Three if you please.”
I press the button. It’s also the floor I need. I look back over at her, and this time we lock eyes. I see as many questions floating in her eyes as mine. I wonder who will be the first to speak.
She takes a deep breath. “You see me, for what I truly am.” It is not a question.
I answer it anyway. “Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
She shakes her head once. “I have a cloaking spell. Tell me, are you a member of the fey?”
“Me?” I ask, with a quick chuckle. “I’m just a college student.”
|
"Fuck you looking at?" the centaur said.
I gaped open-mouthed, only realizing about three seconds later that the creature was stomping toward me. "I ... I--"
His hairy--so hairy--arm shot out and grabbed a fistful of my shirt. With frightening ease, he lifted me clear off the ground, so that my gaze was level with his at a height of about seven feet. What amazing strength! "I said," he began menacingly. "What the f--"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare!" I tried to wriggle free, closing my hands around his wrist to extricate myself. So muscular, so strong--I could almost feel his pulse. Dub, dub, dub, like the sound of my own heart. "Mister, please don't hurt me!"
"I've had it with you humans and your prejudice!" He let go, but didn't give my feet enough warning. They slid out from beneath me, dumping me onto my buttocks. I cowered as he loomed over me, his broad equine chest so close I could smell his earthy ... cologne?
"They told me not to do it. Told me it would be the end of me," he continued to rant. Warm, sticky spittle splattered my cheeks. "'Go live with the humans, and you're dead to us!', my own parents said. The elders called me a son of a goat. My father couldn't even look the Matroness in the eye!"
He slammed one hoof onto the floor, shattering the marble tile. I was tempted to run my fingers across his gleaming appendage--did he polish it? My God ...
"Stupid humans," he screamed, though nobody else was paying him any attention, except for one scandalized janitor. Even his friends had left the area. "You'll all pay for this!"
"What's your name?" I said breathlessly.
He cut his enraged neigh short. "What?"
I licked my lips, wondering how I should phrase the question respectfully. "I ... uh ... what would you like me to call you?"
"Trotsky the Younger," he said with a haughty air.
"Trotsky," I said, letting the word linger on my tongue.
"What the hell's your problem?" he said, scowling at me. "I didn't even drop you on your skull."
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I said, blushing.
His face grew red too, though I soon realized it was out of anger when he drew a pair of pistols from somewhere in his long mane. "Punk bitch. You'll be seeing through your own skull soon enough."
He pressed the muzzles of both guns against my forehead. I thought about closing my eyes ... but why wouldn't I want him to be the last thing I saw? Seconds passed, but he didn't shoot. He seemed to be sniffing the air instead.
Then people started screaming and running ... from something behind me. Tendrils of mist crept after them, swirling around my fingers, around the centaur's sturdy, powerful, glorious legs. He swished his perfect tail as he stared at whatever had just appeared.
I turned to see for myself, and saw an angel.
White as snow, tall and noble, the unicorn strode toward us, parting the mist with its steps. Lightning crackled around its silvery horn, sometimes coursing into its four scarlet eyes. Loveliest eyes I'd ever seen, like a rose in full bloom.
"Shut up," the centaur hissed at me when I began to weep. I couldn't help myself. "Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not here, not now."
"Why? Is it a friend of yours?" I asked, hoping Trotsky would introduce me even though I'd forgotten to give him my name.
"It's here to kill me," he said harshly. The guns went up, and thunder filled the air.
The unicorn screamed, a sound as beautiful as stained glass breaking. I watched the bullets bounce harmlessly off its silken hide, grinning stupidly at its awesome power. Then, its eyes practically crackling with power, it unleashed a bolt of lightning that seared my eyes.
Trotsky was already on the move, and that had probably saved my life. The bolt flew by, missing us both, and incinerated an ornamental tree utterly. I sat on the floor in a daze, as the two majestic equines did battle. Trotsky had manifested an assault rifle, which he was firing, full-auto, at the unicorn as it threw lightning blast after blast at him.
"My God ..." I crawled toward the unicorn while it had its back turned to me; Trotsky was running up a wall, and the unicorn was busy redecorating it with craters. With trembling fingers, I reached out and brushed the tip of the golden tail.
It was like touching liquid sunlight, like drinking ambrosia. I swooned, in so much ecstasy ...
The unicorn must have kicked me or something, because next I knew I was lying about six feet away, bleeding from a broken face. Mewling in agony, I could only watch as the unicorn took off, racing up the wall after the fleeing Trotsky. There came the sound of the mall's glass roof shattering, and then my angel was gone, never to be seen again.
***
*Thanks for, uh, reading. Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more of my stories!*
| 2019-06-18T11:24:53 | 2019-06-18T07:41:12 | 212 | 93 |
[WP] You were filled with horror when you were told that you got sent to hell after you died, the horror faded somewhat when you were then immediately handed a shotgun and noticed the broken bodies of demons everywhere
|
As you stare at the shotgun, you notice the shells appear indefinitely in the chamber. That would be strange in itself, but the moment you notice there comes an angel floating down towards you.
"This is your eternal quest for the world you left. Cleanse hell off of demons so they won't flood the Earth." - says the divine entity.
"How am I supposed to carry out such task? I'm just a carpenter." - you ask, despair in your voice.
Suddenly heavy metal music fills the inside of your head and your senses sharpen.
"Rip and tear." - answers the heavenly servant as it soars up, shredding a killer solo on his ivory guitar.
|
*Gunshots; a far too close explosion;* ***pain*** *in my head; angry, rapid-fire Arabic- and then nothing.*
My mind wakes up before the rest of my body really does. I can’t open my eyes yet, but I feel hot. *Field hospital, then.* Like so many times before, each breath of the warm, musty air makes my lungs burn ever so slightly.
Unlike so many times before, when I open my eyes I’m greeted by a peculiar looking man in a suit and dusty Afghanistan desert as far as the eye can see.
I jolt up, my head strangely not hurting.
“What the fuck?!” The man doesn’t even flinch at my abrupt exclamation.
He flattens his hands towards me as if trying to soothe a cornered animal. “Easy, Ms. Fetters, everything will be explained to you in due time.”
“Time is fucking due. What’s going on? Where are my men? Where am *I?*”
“Your men are back on earth, no doubt celebrating your most recent...endeavor, despite the rather grim result for you.”
Two thoughts hit me.
*The assassination was successful. Saif al-Adel was dead, justice was served.*
*My men are back on earth. My men...are back on...earth!?*
“The fuck you mean my men are back on earth? Isn’t this earth?”
When my surroundings start to slowly change, tans and dust storms fading into reds and smoke, I attribute it to a head injury.
“You see Ms. Fetters, you are dead. This is hell.”
My gut drops, but I ignore it. *Clearly* I hit my head much harder than I thought. Any second now I’ll wake up to a field hospital and a celebratory beer for a job well done (against the nurse’s advice, of course).
The man, seemingly surprised by my non reaction, continues.
“I assure you, Ms. Fetters, I am telling you the truth. You indeed hit your head much harder than you thought- you hit your head hard enough that you cut off blood flow to your medulla oblongata. You suffocated while unconscious because you no longer had a lobe of your brain telling you to breathe.”
His casual repetition of the exact though in my head *does* startle me. This is a bad dream, though- all a bad dream.
“If this is a dream, Ms. Fetters, then by all means wake yourself.”
*Wake up, Kara. Fuckin’ wake up already.*
I quickly grow frustrated. Normally when I know I’m dreaming I can wake myself- but this is starting to feel more like a surreal version of the waking world.
“That is because it’s not a dream, Ms. Fetters.” He pauses, growing slightly more irritated. “Normally I allow our newest recruits to acclimate more to their untimely demise, but the Twisted are being a particular pain today, and we are short handed.”
Out of nowhere, a gun looking like nothing I’ve ever seen materializes in his hand.
“Take this, follow me, follow orders. You’ll eventually redeem yourself and reincarnate into a hopefully more...*moral* vessel. If not, we’ll be grateful for your expertise in a century or so.”
Before I can question just *what the fuck he’s talking about*, he shoves the gun in my hand. With it come feelings. Memories.
*Both parents dying in a bombing.*
*A recruiter promising to make me more, make me deadly.*
*Realising that red tape let the bad guys get away.*
*Slowly using more brutal methods, inflicting unnecessary pain, fighting evil with more evil.*
*My job is not inherently evil, but my methods are.*
*Innocents. Guilty. It doesn’t matter. People are means to an end.*
*Means to my revenge.*
*Thinking I am making the world better, when I am part of what makes it worse.*
*Gunshots. One of my men shouting, but being cut off by an explosion.*
*Silence.*
The man was telling the truth.
I’m dead, and I’m where I belong; in a dark place with a weapon in my hand and something to fight on the other end of it.
I don’t need more detail than that.
“Lead the way.”
| 2019-09-29T10:07:40 | 2019-09-29T09:28:25 | 52 | 36 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult.
|
He turned to the stranger next to him. "World-Ender? What will people think? Will they judge me by this name and think I'm that I'm going to bring about the end of the world? That I'm going to usher in the demise of humanity as we know it? That name is going to label me forever as a monster! What will my friends assume about me? What will all my neighbors say?"
The stranger, nonplussed, shrugged his shoulders. "Well it could always be worse."
World-Ender nodded slowly. "I guess you're right Mr....sorry I didn't catch your name."
"It's Jeff. Jeff Dickinson."
|
"Please, please, Mr. World-Ender...please don't do this", the old man sobbed as the wrecking ball swung to the wall of the establishment, desttoying it like biscuit cracker.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pasta-Kneader. But as per your contract-- failure to complete your rent at the end of this month would result in repossession of your property. There is nothing you can do. This lot will be turn into a parking lot for the new mall", I said coldly as the old man continued sobbing on his knees, seeing his hardwork, his restaurant went down to pieces-- Pasta World was no more.
I turned and walked away, not because I was heartless...but because I couldn't bear watching the man broke down like that.
It's not my fault I ended up with this job-- working for corporate people and high-end businesses, employing every shady and dirty tactics in the book to take over other businesses like Mr. Pasta-Kneader's.
I got back to my car, sighing deeply. Taking a folder sitting on the passenger seat I opened it, showing a list of every businesses carrying the name "something" World.
As my name implicates-- World-Ender, destroying worlds is what I do best. I hate this. I really, really hate this. But what can I do? I was born to do this...
Pfft you should see the reaction when I ended Disney World...I had become public enemy #1 since then.
I scratched off Pasta World from my list. At that moment my fear came true...it was the last of my list. After years of ending many businesses, with no more "Worlds" to end...it's finally time to end the actual world, the planet itself.
I had been dreading this moment, this finality all my life. Growing up I knew it would come to this. So when I found this loophole, that I could instead destroy these businesses, I found a semblance of hope, and I played this card I was dealt with as best as I could.
I hate that it had come to this...my namesake, this curse. Why oh why must I be the one to do this? Why can't it be some ruthless dictator that had to be burdened with this cruel destiny? Why had it to be me, a meek boy from the midwest?
I closed the folder hesitantly. My eyes closed, my breathing heavy, my emotion stirred...it will take many, many years-- but eventually it will happen as I can't escape my name.
"Right then....where do we start?", I muttered to myself. My mind already imagining the crumbling of modern society, the destruction of civilization itself, the end of the world-- my main goal.
*Ring ring*
My deep thought was jolted by the ringing of my phone....an unknown number. But as usual, my work is from word of mouth-- my clientele are complete strangers to me.
"Hello?", I answered.
"Hi, Mr. World-Ender?", the other voice asked.
"Speaking..."
"Hi, my name is Janice. I work for Lawyer & Lawyer law firm. We are interested in employing your service, Mr. World-Ender", said the young woman.
"Oh? Regarding what precisely?", I asked, intrigued.
"I can't disclose the case before you agree to sign a contract with us. But what I can say is we are currently fighting a case against The Happy World aged care facility and..."
"I'm in", I cut her off.
She paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback at my enthusiasm.
"Oh...I...great!", she finally yelped.
"Send me the address of your law firm and I'll be there as soon as I can", I said ending the call.
I leaned back, smiling. I chuckled lightly before bursting into a full on laughter.
You might think I'm a heartless bastard-- feeling joy in taking down an aged care facility. But from my point of view, the alternative would have even worse result.
I opened my folder again, adding the Happy World aged care facility to my list.
My mind wandered to endless papers, corporate takeover, heartless practice, but you know what? Compared to nuclear destruction and mass genocide, I very much prefer that.
r/HangryWritey
Edit: a few word corrections
| 2021-06-19T18:31:32 | 2021-06-19T17:19:39 | 2,066 | 346 |
[WP] They Hero is defeated by the villian, they expect death or torture. They did not expect to wake up in a guest room with their wounds being treated to.
|
The last thing I could remember from the fight was that there was alot of blood and that I was tired. I remember trying so desperately to defeat him and then..... nothing. I knew that i'd lost. I was readying myself for death, or torture or anything worse but this. This is not what I expected. Especially not from him.
Everything is warm and bright. This bed is so soft and comfortable that I don't want to leave. The room was.....perfect. The walls were a pleasant shade that didn't strain my eyes too much and the furniture complemented it perfectly. On top of all that my wounds were fully treated. In fact my bloody clothes had been replaced with a cosy set of pyjamas.
I noticed that there were two people other than me in the room. One who seemed to be a doctor, probably the one who treated my wounds. And the other my worst enemy, the one who gave me those wounds. Lord Edward Rose. I could not begin to fathom why I was here. Why he was doing this. Before I could think of what to say he spoke.
"Good afternoon, Alizza. Did you sleep well?"
Alizza? Since when has he called me by my name? No since when has he even known my name? I suppose he must have spies. But why is he so calm? Why does he even care? What do I even say?
"Umm I- uhh yeah I guess I slept well."
He chuckled gently. My confusion seemed amusing to him.
"I'll explain in a while but would you like breakfast first? You haven't eaten in 3 days. I'd imagine you're hungry."
"I- 3- uhh yes please"
He laughed a bit louder this time. What was so funny about my confusion?
After being served the world's most heavenly breakfast he started to explain his generous hospitality.
It turned out that the reason he was evil and slaughtering innocent civilians was because he was possessed by a demon. He said that he was investigating a cult and tried to interfere with a ritual and so the demon possessed him as a result. Normally exorcisms should have gotten the demon out but the demon had certain conditions that needed to be fulfilled in order for him to give up the body. This demon's conditions were to slaughter a mass, to have a bounty on his head, and to defeat a worthy adversary. As it turns out I was a worthy adversary. So having been Lord Rose's demon remover he felt the need to treat my wounds.
"I- so I see. That's quite a complicated situation and alot to take in. I'm glad that you're back to normal Lord Rose. Thank you for your hospitality."
"Please just Edward is fine. Oh I suppose being on first name basis is odd for a first meeting I apologise Miss Frost."
"No it's alright I suppose. I was just shocked that you actually knew my name. You continue to call me Alizza aswell. I look forward to being colleagues. Since we're both adventurers it would be great to have someone with your fighting skill and brains arround."
"Oh my fighting skill came from the demon. But I look forward to working with you too. I can help my best with any investigation matters."
|
I woke up slowly, my foggy brain not allowing me to comprehend what was going on around me. There was a steady beeping beside my bed, and a slight pinch in my arm, as well as the warm, slightly spicy feeling of light magic swirling around my head. The last thing I remembered was Annalise standing over me, that blazing light of her spear hovering over my face, as the injuries she threw my way just moments before leeched me of life, or so I thought.
I groaned, raising my right arm, the one not slighting smarting, to rub my eyes as they adjusted to the soft white glow of light. "Where..." I groaned lightly. I finally cracked my eyes open enough to realize I was alone in the tastefully decorated room, laying on a four-poster bed, hooked to an IV machine. I glanced down my body, taking note of the cast on my left leg and the bandages encasing various parts of my body where Annalise's last, swift attack had taken me off guard. I was dressed in a simple, standard issue hospital gown, but I looked like I was in an expensive hotel room. The confusion grew steadily as I glanced around, dragging myself into a somewhat upright position.
"Hello?" I tried calling out, but my voice caught in my dry throat. I cleared it and tried again, gaining a little volume, "What's going on?"
I heard footsteps approach my door, then the sound of a lock turning before two people stepped into the room. One was a doctor, or at least someone where a lab coat and looking doctor-ish, and the other was Annalise, who was my mortal enemy what seemed like only moments ago.
I instantly went on high alert and tried to drag myself from the bed, but the doctor, an older man with graying hair and a slight frown on his face, made a tsking noise, waved his left hand, and the magic shimmering around me, coalescing into a more solid form that prevented me from reaching outside of the confines of the bed. "Now, we can't have that, Miss Matilda. You are our guest, but we are aware of your more recent exploits."
I sneered as the stepped to either side of the bed, surrounding me. "Exploits? I just tried to blow up the National Conservatory for Magical Enhancement. I think that might rate more highly than an exploit."
Annalise chuckled, drawing a rune in the air above my bed, opening the side she was standing on. Her long hair moved slightly in the wind produced by the spells swirling around us. "I wouldn't say 'just' tried. You've been out for almost two weeks."
"What? Why? And why am I here?" I demanded, so focused on her that I missed the doctor dropping the spell on his side to check the IV in my arm. I tried yanking away when I felt his touch, but it was too late. A new spell froze my body in place so the doctor could examine my wounds.
"Because you showed an immense aptitude for destruction magic, that's why," Annalise explained. "Abd I couldn't let you fall into anyone else's hands but ours."
I couldn't speak because of the doctor's spell, but he finished his examination quickly and methodically, and finally, he released me from it, stepping back to raise the ward around the bed once more.
"Is this some kind of punishment? Fixing me up just so you can torture me later?" I asked, training my eyes on Annalise again.
"No," she stated, lowering herself into an armchair beside the bed, nodding to the doctor as he exited the room. I knew Annalise was clairvoyant, that is one of the things that made her so difficult to fight; kinda hard to get the drop on someone who can read your mind, so I assumed the doctor let her listen in on his examination, while leaving me in the dark. "We're healing you because I convinced the Conservatory that you would be of more use to us here than in the Hole."
I scoffed, letting myself slide down in the bed, suddenly tired from moving and the influx of magic against my senses. "And why is that, so I can be pitted against the new mages to train them? Since you obviously handled me so easily." I didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in my voice, and Annalise just smirked as she looked at me.
"Why did you attack the Conservatory? You had to have known your own magic was nowhere near enough against the world's best mages," she mused, cocking her head as I thought of a reply.
"Because I don't agree with augmenting magic. It's the most powerful natural disaster waiting to happen, all this chaos and inexperience shifting around this one space. But you knew that would be my answer, because you had to have researched me and my little crusade while I was out."
"For some reason, I don't think that's your real reason; you had to have known you wouldn't succeed, and you had to have known if you did manage to get a bomb spell off, it would just amplify the wards we have in place."
I shrugged, unwilling to expand on that issue. My reasons were my own, and I studied enough about clairvoyancy before mounting my attack to know how to hide my most private thoughts, at least. By the knowing gleam in her eye, I could guess that she realized what I was doing.
"The other reason is your magic itself. I have never seen an untrained, unaugmented mage wield such ferocious power."
"And yet, you took me down easily." I closed my eyes, growing even more tired the more I looked at the perfection that was one of the world's best mages.
"Not as easily as you would think. And I couldn't help but wonder about the things you could do with some training and direction. So, from now on, you're a student here."
I bolted up as quickly as my weak body would let me. "What?!"
"Yep, it's decided." She stood, gave me a triumphant smile, and started to head to the door while still talking. "The Council agreed with my findings that you would be an asset to the Conservatory, and while you will have to prove your trustworthiness to everyone in this place, since I have proven I can handle you, you'll be under my care and supervision until that happens." She reached the door and turned back to me, chuckling at my stunned expression. "Don't look so excited, I've never trained another mage and I had no intention of ever doing so, but there's something about you that I just want to puzzle out. We start as soon as you're healed. You'll be confined to this room until then. I look forward to working with you, Matilda." And with that, the only person to ever beat me in battle winked at me, stepped out of the room, and locked the door with a decisive click.
| 2021-08-10T00:42:08 | 2021-08-10T00:41:35 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] A man, sentenced to prison, doesn't quite "get it". He ends up having an absolute blast.
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Dear Mom,
Prison isn't actually that bad! It's been a lot like camp, it reminds me of a time when I was a counselor at [REDACTED].
First of all, there's a commissary here! There's a lot of cool stuff, even better than what they sold at camp. I can get shaving cream, ramen, socks and even Playboy magazines!
Second, I like how much more space I have than in the cabins back at [REDACTED]. I only have one bunkmate, and I like him. He was only a drug dealer selling [REDACTED], so I can sleep soundly knowing he's not going to muder me.
There's a ton of stuff to do here- you can go to the library or run around the track or watch the cooking channel with Ina Garten. I like her, she reminds me of Grandma. The guy who controls the TV only lets us watch Food Network though. I'd ask him to change it, but he [REDACTED] like twenty people and I'd hate to be number 21, ha-ha! He seems to like me, he promised that he'd find me a good wife around here. Boy, that was nice of him.
I don't even have to pay rent, and meals are free! I've made my own group of friends here. They all have some cool stories. The guards are kind of stern- they remind me of me when I was a counselor. Stan's probably reading this, so hi, Stan! [HI, JOHNNY]
I know you were worried about me getting an education. I actually signed up for a law class. One of the prisoners was some lawyer who committed [REDACTED], and he teaches law class every Wednesday and Thursday in exchange for five Butterfingers. I'm going to earn my degree in here- you can get a Bachelor's degree for free!
Prison is amazing! I'm so glad I murdered all of those campers to get here- I never really liked the children at [REDACTED] anyways. I'm so excited that I can finally make something out of my life, and not just work at Camp [REDACTED].
See you in twenty years!
Love,
John
|
Being king is easy, so long as you know what you are doing. The key is to avoid ambition. This was Rodrigo’s own personal philosophy, and it served him spectacularly well. Throughout the entirety of his lengthy reign, Rodrigo had experienced very little of the sort of trouble that is posed to most regents. He attributed this lucky fortune to his principle life value; to not ask for more than what you need. Most people, Rodrigo mused, would be far better off if they adopted this belief. Too many of Rodrigo’s subjects had unobtainable desires, and as a result they find frustration with their lot in life. You do not have to be a king to be satisfied with your station. In fact, being king can make it much more difficult to obtain satisfaction. This, however, Rodrigo merely assumed to be the case. Rodrigo was immensely satisfied with being a king, and he surely was a magnificent one.
Yes, to this point in his life, Rodrigo could be counted among the fortunate. Not only did he sit the throne, he did so remarkably unopposed. Throughout his entire reign as regent, not once was Rodrigo’s authority questioned. Never had an attempt been made to depose him. Things, however, can change in an instant. Today held one of those instants for Rodrigo.
As dusk fell across his territories, Rodrigo meditated in a courtyard. Everything seemed indicative of another yet peaceful night, but sadly, this was not to be the case. Without any warning, Rodrigo was violently accosted by a team of outlaws. These vicious thugs seized hold of a bewildered Rodrigo and bound his wrists tightly before forcibly dragging him away from his beloved kingdom.
This turn of events was both unwelcome and unexpected, but Rodrigo knew better than to panic. Fortunately for all involved, Rodrigo was a very wise king. Many other kings would have fought against their captors, scraping tooth and nail to preserve their sovereignty. Rodrigo, however, was not so foolish as to struggle. As always, he merely accepted his fate as it was handed to him. Fortunes smiled upon this decision, for as it turned out, non-violence was the perfect course of action. Rodrigo’s attackers, far from being his enemies, turned out to be amongst his most loving supporters.
Instead of being ransomed, as he expected he would be, Rodrigo was escorted many miles to a mighty castle over which he was given dominion. He was allowed set up his court in snug apartment that they cordially provided him, and was left alone to go about his kingly duties, safe behind many thick concrete walls. With running water, a long bench, and stately, cement floors, Rodrigo’s new kingdom was even grander than his old one had been. He even had uniformed servants waiting on him as well as armed guards posted for his protection. It was implied that Rodrigo need not lift a finger with so many loyal subjects available to cater to his every whim.
Rodrigo, as you may remember, was a kind and just ruler. Instead of throwing around his royal weight and privilege as many others might have thought to do, Rodrigo did his best to stick to his sacred philosophy and avoided invoking his will upon the peasants. He was content to merely be present in so fine a palace. Loath to shirk his kingly duties, Rodrigo busied himself with governing the realm to the best of his abilities. There was very little for him to do. It was all very well run, so he allowed himself to relax and drink in his good fortune. After many a pleasant hour surveying his vast kingdom, Rodrigo realized that the proper thing to do would be to have a feast to commemorate his new hall. He made to call for a page to make preparations, but his wishes were anticipated and preempted by his bodyguards. They really were extraordinary servants.
Contained handsomely in a brown paper sack, Rodrigo was presented with a variety of nice things to eat, including a lovely orange, and cardboard prism full of milk. Thanking the steward who waited on him, Rodrigo proceeded to commence a wondrous meal. He supped as only a king can, with relish and dignity, and it turned out to be a marvelous repast. Rodrigo ate his fill and sent his scraps to be divided among the commoners.
After a banquet of regal proportions, there is nothing more pleasant than a good night’s rest. With an army of dedicated servants watching over him, Rodrigo slept peaceably through the first night in his new realm. The next morning, Rodrigo woke and had a marvelous time looking out across his beloved kingdom, but disaster was to strike once more. A coup seemed to have occurred overnight, and Rodrigo’s loyal staff now seemed to answer to some usurper. He was once more manacled and torn violently away from his royal apartment.
Woe, was Rodrigo. For the second time in as many days, he was being forcibly removed from his rightful kingdom! A regal man such as Rodrigo, however, can be down but never out. Assaulted and expelled, noble Rodrigo was able to find solace in his kingly bearing. He held his head high and allowed himself to be led from his castle with the dignity that befit his station. He was eventually unhanded a ways outside the keep’s walls, where he found himself alone amongst sparse trees scattered across an open plain. Cutting through this vast expanse, he saw a darkly paved roadway slicing the land in two before winding over some distant hills on the horizon.
The picturesque landscape touched Rodrigo’s heart. This was a wonderful place. He hiked away from the road until he found a small pond hidden among a copse of trees. Here would be a wonderful place to establish his presence for the time being. Stretching his kingly body amongst the tall grass, Rodrigo admired the blue sky which was his birthright. He certainly presided over a magnificent kingdom.
| 2015-08-19T21:02:26 | 2015-08-19T18:09:25 | 105 | 21 |
[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 E,
I love you. Not the cheesy love I felt in high school, and not the way I love the woman I think I'm going to marry, but you hold a place in my heart that no one else can.
We were destructive. We weren't good for each other. You were emotionally abusive, and I was amazed a pretty girl would give me the time of day. I was putty in your hands, and you took advantage of that to the fullest. I had my faults too, but you put the nail in the coffin.
Then you got kicked out of school. You moved in with another guy and confided in me about your relationship problems. I, a guy who cares too much and tries too hard, was more than willing to stay up until the wee hours listening to you and solving the problems of a relationship I had no part in. We might have been a thunderstorm, but he was a hurricane. You kept seeing him, and kept coming to me for advice. I conceded.
Then the accident happened.
You were going too fast. You hit a puddle. You couldn't keep from swerving into the other lane. You survived, but not without some brain damage.
I remember speeding to the hospital and seeing him. The man who was the vehicle to this lifestyle that put you here.
The man whose smile was as crooked as your front bumper when I saw your car in the junkyard. It was the first time I recall feeling genuine hate. The first time I wanted someone to die. To change places with you.
The next few months you'll never remember. You were in a coma. You were in rehab. You couldn't speak. You couldn't eat. I was there every other day, spending hours with you, watching movies with the husk of a person I once knew.
But you improved. Your brain damage wasn't as bad as they thought, but it changed you. You became frustrated. You would lash out at me due to your brain's lack of ability to filter. You'd hit me. I remained there. I taught you to count again. I taught you colors. I taught you the parts of your face. I fed you your first solid meal.
Then college came. Then I realized that things would never be the same. That as much as I cared for you, I had to move on, and so did you. You were recovered to the best that you would be, and you were moving out on your own.
You have a baby now. You have a boyfriend. I have a woman by my side who I love dearly. There's no trace of romantic feelings whatsoever, but I'll always remember our time together. I'll always care for you deeply. You'll always be the one who taught me what caring for people really means.
You'll never remember what I did. You'll never remember learning colors or numbers or eating your first meal from a spoon I was holding.
I think I like it better that way.
We were a thunderstorm, but the skies are clear now.
|
Dear David,
So many things have happened since you left. As you know, dad is gone too. Mom hasn't handled losing you or dad very well. Ok, that's putting it mildly. Mom has lost her shit and gone off the deep end. You wouldn't believe the difference. Drugs. Alcohol. Living with an addict thy she has professed her undying love to. I know, right?? I've only talked to her three times this year and haven't seen her in over a year.
It's not all bad since you left though. Beck is now a mother! Yes, our baby sister! She has a little boy named Michael (yes, the very name she had picked out when we were all little kids!). She also has daughter named Eleanor (I picked the name). And here's what you will find amusing....they were BOTH born with flaming RED HAIR lmao!! I know!! After Beck used to swear if she ever ever had a red headed kid she'd dye their hair lol. They are perfect and beautiful and glorious. When I was in the waiting room all I could think about is that no one would understand how excited I was except for you. It was bittersweet.
Beck is married but you would have killed him and I would have helped you bury him if you were still here. *sibling high five* But he is quickly being out of the picture. It's hard for Beck but she's in school so she can provide a life for herself and the babies. She's a good egg.
Ok, life. Clint and I are still together! He's the best. We talk about you all the time. Although, he usually lets me bring you up because, well, you know. You were my baby brother. Anyway. You met Lydia. She was three months old when you left. She's spectacular. She getting married in February! She has the best head on her shoulders. Beautiful. Smart. Just like her mother lol. You never met Matthew. He was born a little over a year after you left. And let me say...he reminds me so much of you. There were days when he was little that it was painful to see him doing things you could never do. Then there where days that made me say "Ugh! you remind me so much of your uncle David, I just want to knock the shit out of you!"...lol. He's a freaking genius. He's so sweet and nurturing. He will make an excellent dad and husband one day. (Just like his dad)
I don't know if you know this but you have made a huge impact on their lives. Go ahead. Gloat all you want. I told them all about you. I've told them every funny story about us that I can remember. I know there are ones that I don't remember. Ones that you have the other side of the story. Stories I wish I remembered, that left with you. How things happened from your perspective....anyway. Lydia told me one day she forgets that she never actually knew you. Made me smile.
Now for me. I'm doing great. I'm still happily in love. Like, stupid in love. We are the couple that you and I would have made fun of lol. He misses you too. He misses dad too. The big news in my life: I went blonde. I know, I know, Brunette forever and all the jazz. I don't want to hear it lol. I'm old. Well, older. So much older! It's been...what?...20 years? Has it really been that long? I seems like yesterday. But then again with you, and now dad, gone it seems like so long ago. Like it was a different life. Another persons life. But it was my life and it had you in it. And now it doesn't. It's starting to creep in while I'm writing this. That feeling. The one that has me hyperventilating in my bed. The one that has me so angry at God. The one that makes me not able to have someone mention you because the cut is still so raw, that I feel I would bleed to death if I had to talk about you. I actually get so angry sometimes when I hear other people talk about you. They talk about how great you were. How courageous you were. How much better off you are. How lucky I was to know you. And. I. Just. Want. To. Scream. Fuck them. I want to tell them you were not perfect, that you were a little shit little brother who would hid my stuff and get mom to side with you! I want to tell them that they have no idea what courage was! How I listened to you scream and beg for mercy every time we had to bathe you. Or during those horrible procedures. Or...everyday of your fucking life. How much better off you are?! You are gone. You are never coming back. I will never be able to laugh with you again. How lucky I am to have known you??? They don't know. There are nights were I lay in bed wondering (torturing myself, really) if it was worth it for you? Was it really worth me knowing you if it meant you living the life you were dealt?? Can you justify a child living and dying in horrific pain for just the pleasure of me knowing them? I don't know. It took me years to not be so angry at God. Years. And I'm not going to lie, there are still days where I don't think too much of him lol.
I wish I could just know if it was all worth it? Were the good times worth all of the shit you had to endure? 16 years of pain and suffering. I hope it was. I think I could go crazy if I didn't think it was worth it. I have to believe it was worth it. Please. God.
Anyway, like I was saying. I'm good.
I am sorry though. For all those times I would get so frustrated with you. I know. It was all big sister/little brother crap, but I'm here and you're gone. So. It's different. I get to regret and rethink and rehash all of our arguments and fights that happened between teenaged me and teenaged you. 16. Gone at 16..... Anyways. I love you. I think about you every single day. If I'm being honest, probably every hour. Don't flatter yourself. Lol. I miss you so bad. But I wouldn't bring you back to live like you had to live. I love you more than that. I do.
So, say hi to dad for me and give him a hug and kiss for Lydia and Matthew. And I'll see you both soon. But not too soon....lol. I love you kiddo. ~forever your big sister, Angel.
| 2015-12-05T16:37:50 | 2015-12-05T16:20:18 | 94 | 32 |
[WP] Humanity finally reaches the edge of the solar system only to encounter an impassible barrier and a warning not to try and breach it. But is it there to keep us in or to keep something else out?
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Humanity was expanding.
It was time to go.
It had been 200 years since humans had reached the edge of the solar system. It had taken 2 years to journey that far back then, and now they could pass the expanse from the sun to the edge in just a few tens of minutes. But they could never pass it.
The great barrier hung, invisibly encompasing the system. When humans had first approached, not knowing the barrier was there, they were rocked by the strong magnetics fields. A signal had flashed across the whole of the visable spectrum. Lights turning on and off at high speed. They had found code easy to break, and understood it was a communication meant for them.
"Go back. Do not leave. Go back. Do not leave."
This had started an international crisis. Should they ignore it, and push through? The combined decision of the worlds elected leaders was no. At a vote tallying 90 to 60, the earth had decided to stay within the barrier.
The humans kept testing it. They found that both electromagnetic waves, and physical probes were allowed through, but anything containing biological matter was prevented from leaving. The first casualty of the barrier was one brave astronaut's ham sandwich. The testing continued, the message stayed the same, but then humanity moved on.
And then it expanded. First Mars, then Titan and orbital habitats around Venus and Jupiter. And they kept expanding. And in just 11 generations Humanity started to outgrow the resources of the solar system.
And so it came back to today. The day after polling day. Every human across the expanse of the solar system had been allowed to vote on the decision of whether or not to break through the barrier. The technology to do so had been available for 120 years.
And the results came in. 96% voter turnout. 76:24 in favour of breaking through the barrier.
It was too late. They weren't ready yet. I couldn't even send another warning. It took all I had to maintain the barrier. I had tried. But they didn't even know what they were in for. I had watched them for so long, keeping them safe.
Goodbye, dear friends.
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"Who said it was impassable?"
For a moment, Pilot Grays could only stare at his captain. Miles was supposed to be the most passive commander of any ship in the Navy. This was the main draw for the pilot to request the posting to her ship, expecting that the routine patrol of Sol would be a simple way to complete his four years of service. Then he would retire from military service, ask out that girl he got a number from that summer before he deployed, and live out his life in beer and debauchery. Grays was a simple man.
A simple officer who just wanted to get through his first week under a new captain. She would not make it easy.
"The warning Captain," the pilot responded. "Anytime we pass within a k'meter of the barrier, we're told not to try and breach it." He did his best to keep his tone even and unassuming. Anything to prevent the captain from adopting a dangerous idea, and Grays was a poor actor. Never again would he try to tell an MP that his sack was full of glass-bottled juice, as the beer bottles clinked together nervously in his bag. They didn't inspect the bag, thank all the Senators of Amca, but he vowed never to try and get away with similar evasions again.
"I don't care pilot. Take us in."
Until now, anyway. Grays cleared his throat and began. "It is against our regulations Captain. We've been ordered by *more* than a super majority of the Senate to stay away from the barrier. The vote was nearly unanimous, and SolFleet Command passed down those orders to every ship commander in the Navy."
"Yes. *Nearly* unanimous," she grinned.
The console began to pool Grays' sweat from his palms. Captain Miles was making the pilot nervous. As any ship commander should. It was part of a time-honored Navy tradition, to serve under the tyrannical rule of a captain, regardless their whimsy or penchant for cruelty. Officers were no less victims than the enlisted members of her crew. Not that she was particularly cruel or mean. No, it was worse.
"Captain, I must insist..."
"Log your defiance or take us to the barrier."
Like hell the pilot would forsake his pension by risking a logged complaint against his superior officer. Even if it meant certain death, how else was he going to buy all that alcohol when he retired? He was a simple man with a vision, a steady pair of hands, and a healthy fear of his commander. Not because she was cruel.
"Setting a course by the barrier ma'am."
Not because she was stupid. Captain Miles was actually brilliant, if the rumors were true.
"*To* the barrier pilot. We're crossing it."
But brilliant in the wrong ways. No, it was worse, the previous pilot warned him.
"Aye aye ma'am," Pilot Grays whined.
She was *adventurous.*
Grays set a course for the barrier. As expected, the familiar warning came up for any pilot who was paying too little attention to their ship's trajectory.
*DO NOT BREACH THE BARRIER.*
The words flashed across the console screen. There was only one other officer on deck to read them, but Lieutenant Bars remained by the captain's seat in a stoic silence. For the whole orientation week Pilot Grays has spent on Miles' ship, Bars had yet to say a word in his presence. In fact, the pilot was fairly sure Bars only spoke through the tinny speakers that coursed through every hall and level. Grays had some choice curses to give Bars, if Navy etiquette did not prevent him from speaking out against Bars' silence to the ridiculous order.
*DO NOT BREACH THE BARRIER.*
"Point seven k'meters from... destination."
"Keep moving."
"Aye aye ma'am." Grays wished he was as confident as he sounded. His console was damp. An arm sleeve swiped it quickly and adjusted ship's speed to slow as much as he could. No matter how much time he gave the captain to countermand her own order, she did not budge. Nor did Bars, to Grays' misery. The ship loomed ever closer to the invisible barrier that only existed in the abrupt warning every ship received.
They were ready to cross.
Grays shut his eyes.
The ship ---
"*HALT!*"
A finger swiped the ship's speed to zero, halting it within... unbelievable.
Point two k'meters from the barrier limit.
Boots clacked against the metal deck of the control room. A gloved hand and a cool scent sat on the pilot's shoulder. "My word is law Grays."
A shaky nod was the most he could give. The pilot did not dare to speak. They skirted a court-martial at the very least. And at worst...
Grays swiped the console dry again. These four years did not look promising. Captain Miles was mad. Lieutenant Bars was quiet. Pilot Grays ran out of the beer he smuggled last night. The barrier was impassable. A dangerous, limiting line that defined the universe of possibilities that existed for mankind.
And she used it to make a damned point!
"Are we keeping him then?"
That low rumble. He turned to see Lieutenant Bars smirking at the pilot.
"Absolutely! That was closer than any pilot we've had before!" Grays couldn't believe it. She was delighted. Then Captain Miles span back to the seated pilot, her face serious with the command of a Navy vessel once more. "Welcome to *The Boralis.*"
Pilot Grays sighed. "A pleasure to be aboard ma'am," he lied.
--------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-04-19T04:03:26 | 2016-04-19T01:51:13 | 1,285 | 164 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
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186,292 YEARS?
How could this be? I never even harmed a fly. Okay, well - maybe a few of those. You know what I mean.
**"....But why?**", I asked struck by pure horror and disbelief.
The hell warden looked right into my eyes and cracked a diabolic smile:
"Do you even realize how many people died because you refused to forward those chain-mails?"
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"Table for one, sir."
I reclined on the wooden chair and sipped at the complimentary cup of lava-heated water. The water, its temperature just nice to heat up my icy skin, spilled out as I set the cup down on the table. Dribbles of water remained on the plastic file beside the cup.
"A hundred and eighty-six thousand, huh." I breathed out lightly. I tweaked my nose and picked the file up again, opening it to reveal a rather impressive stack of paper. The paper was written in a language my presiding Overseer had called Archean, but the only thing that mattered on the piece of paper was an absurd Arabian number written on it.
186,292.
My presiding overseer had slapped himself silly when I stepped forward, muttering about pig-like teammates and 'too heavy to carry'. His eyeballs had also popped out of his sockets, prompting his assistants to help him pick them back up. His stately demeanor lost, it didn't take him long to dismiss me without a word. There was something distinctly unfair about my lack of information...but it wasn't prudent for me to bring that up.
I shook my head and sipped from the cup again. I didn't do any damning act in my lifetime. No murders, no kidnapping, nothing. I sighed again, this time audibly.
"What's the matter, signeur?"A voice piped up from my right. I turned, and a masked man came into view. His mask was coloured a white so pure that it stung my eyes to look at it. The only hint towards his emotions was his exposed mouth, which was straight...for now.
"Nothing much, friend," I replied. I picked up the paper and stared at it forlornly. "Just an absurdly long sentence."
He clapped my back lightly. "Don't fret it, son. At least you're better off than him." He pointed at a man, who was walking with an incredibly awkward gaunt, wobbling from left to right.
"What happened to him? I mean, is this even supposed to happen?" I looked at the man and shivered inwardly. His face was filled with a despair that I couldn't fathom, so deep it was.
"He's scum. In life, he was a serial rapist-cum-murderer. His sentence in the afterlife was to experience the pain, shame and fear felt by his victims a hundred-fold." The masked man spat on the floor. "It also happened that he was a homophobe to the extreme, so the powers that be decided to let him experience a...brand new world."
He smiled darkly. "Using a metal rod 20 centimetres wide."
"Well, at least we know what caused his punishment," I complained grumpily, a current of pity hidden inside. "My text was in something called Archean, and my overseer didn't even read out what I was being incarcerated for."
The masked man's upper lip curled. "Well, I happen to know Archean. Do you mind if I read it for you?"
I waved my hand lightly. "Sure, go ahead."
I chucked the file lightly at him and the man deftly caught it. I picked up the cup and sipped at it again. It was rather unfair...I lived a life filled with kindness and dignity. Why subject me to this? My eyes flitted onto the masked man, who was actually frozen in place.
"Mister?" I asked.
The mask fell off, and before I could register his appearance, he shot to his feet and saluted. "Your humble servant offers greetings, Lord Administrator! Please pardon my previous rudeness!"
The file fell off his lap, landing with a plop that resounded throughout the silent tavern. I swallowed and picked up the file.
As I examined the words again, the scribbles shuddered and rearranged themselves.
On it was written in eye-catching letters: "Administrator of the 9th domain, term to last for 186,292 years. Effective immediately."
"Balls."
As the curse escaped my lips, the number increased by one.
| 2018-09-26T07:41:09 | 2018-09-26T07:07:43 | 1,768 | 895 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
"Excuse me sir, but this doesn't seem right? Are you sure you have the right results for me? This seems totally unwarranted." I said to the clerk who handed me my sentence papers.
"Sir, there are no mistakes here. Try this, it usually clears things up." he replied.
He handed me a blue flyer, like the kind they give you at a hospital, which answers the usual questions that they don’t have time to go over with every person who asks.
It read:
“Feeling cheated by your sentence?”
“Wondering how you could have possibly racked up that many sins in one lifetime?”
“Feeling like your perfectly average life couldn’t have possibly led to this?”
If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, this is for you. We often have newcomers ask similar questions and have found that the following self test can clear things up. If you still have questions after reading this, you can talk to one of our support staff.
Check all that apply:
1. I felt underappreciated during my lifetime
2. I often had to remind people why I deserved what I was clearly entitled to
3. People had a hard time recognizing my achievements
4. I rarely felt like I was among equals, often feeling like the smartest person in the room
5. Often felt like people were envious of me
6. I was almost always able to convince people to let me have my way
7. I found that I had to constantly make people understand that they were wrong
8. People often refused to see what I knew to be true
9. I sometimes had to use force to make people understand things that were for their own good
10. I often needed to remind people that I don’t settle or compromise
If you checked off five or more of the above, it is likely that you lived your life as a narcissist. You were unable to see the sins you were accumulating because you believed that you were not committing them at all.
Still confused? One of our support staff can help you by recounting your memories from the perspective of your friends or family. You can make an appointment at the front desk.”
|
“Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
Charon the gatekeeper just looked down. “If you want to dispute this sentence. Then you will have to speak to management. However I don.....l
“Well get me the fuckin manager then. This can’t happen to me in life I had thousands of more followers on social media then any of my friends. I had a great house a great family and an awesome job. I lived a great life.”
Charon simply smiled and cordially responded. “Very well please wait in the vestibule.”
So I waited.....and waited.....and waited.....and waited what seemed like an hour. This is total crap I used to get what I want when I wanted it anytime with the push of a button. I earned what I wanted and got it. Man this sucks. Well I wonder this tool bag manager is going to be like? Probably some simple minded yes man who never took a risk in his entire life. I was the man in life and I got everything I ever wanted. But I tell you what this waiting really sucks.
Just then some pimply faced accountant doofy looking dude showed up.
“Excuse me sir. My name is Nergel and I understand you have a complaint. How can I help you?”
Nergel??? What a turd name! But honestly I think he should call himself Nerdel. Made me laugh just thinking about it.
“Yeah Hi. There has to be a mistake here. The guy in front of me cheats on his wife and gets 100 years or something but I get like 200,000 years??? I was a pillar of my community. I did several good things with charities, and my family had everything they ever wanted.”
“Yes I understand that this may come as a surprise to you but the decision has been made. It would be best if you just served your....”
“Bullshit I don’t deserve this I should have some entitlement here! That dude in front of me was a drunk and a waste of life! He probably should have killed himself a long time ago.”
“Well technically you automatically get 500,000 years so that would not be advised.”
“I don’t care about that guy I care about ME. And you know what I am tired of your face, So listen here NERDEL why don’t you go get someone who has a pair of balls so I can get my reward.”
Nergel changed his demeanour slowly then just smiled. “Ok I guess it’s time to drop the pretences then. You are such a limited simpleton, a walking bag of garbage and if I didn’t have responsibilities here I would just end you.”
“Who do you think you.....”
Nergel waived his hand and I couldn’t speak. I tried but the words wouldn’t form.
“We’re done talking. Now it’s time for you to listen. You want to know why you got this time? Because you are an asshole. You used your family as a shield to show people you were a good guy when in fact you hated them. You never spent any time at home. Oh what’s that oh yes ‘because you were working!’ No no no that’s not exactly true. How many late nights in bars or strip clubs or weekends at the golf course did you spend?”
“Still nothing huh? Well how about all the anonymous social media bullying you did to improve your position at work? Man you sure did some things. Did you know that one guy you hurt spent the last few miserable years of his life in a group home? Survival of the fittest is what you called it. Well let’s just I can relate. I am the original survivor. I faced more pain then you can ever imagine and I think I know I am going to do with you.”
“Don’t be nervous it’s ok. I have great news! I have heard your complaint and I have decided that you won’t have serve 200,000 years.”
I looked up at him still not able to speak.
“I don’t really think serving 200,000 years is necessary for you. You probably wouldn’t get anything out of it. So instead I will reduce your sentence to 200 years where you will receive my finest training so when you do go to heaven you will be ready.” He waived his hand again so I could speak.
“Oh thank you very much I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I got hot I’m just a passionate person.”
“Oh your perfectly excused for that. No problem.” He motioned to an attendant. “Can you please escort this gentleman to level C. This man is ready for his training.”
“Yes my lord. This way please.” I was led to a room not too far from where I was. There was light coming out the door. Hey maybe I am just going straight to heaven after all. Ha ha ha I talked my way out of that one again. Survival of the fittest even in the after life. The door opened and I saw the blinding light.
“Step through.” I walked inside and the door behind me was shut. Then the light went out and I was in total darkness. A small lantern lit up in the corner of the room but I could not see anything. I heard some chittering and some gear noises. When my eyes adjusted I saw some spinning wooden crates with metal and hooks attached to it. Where was I.
Then a figure came from the darkness. A man with pins in his face. Chains shot out and tore into me. I screamed not ever feeling this kind of pain before.
“Welcome to your training. Let’s begin.”
| 2018-09-26T08:05:05 | 2018-09-26T06:56:58 | 488 | 74 |
[WP] The Villain uncovers the Hero's true identity, and targets his family. Unfortunately, the Hero's spouse is a retired villain even more powerful than the current one.
|
"Slowly, now," I warn, as Perry Gunderson, or, as we know him, the hero Paragon, stepped into his own living room. "You're going to want to play this one smart."
"And why's that?" he asked, stalling as he strove to comprehend the situation. As though it could be anything other than the obvious.
"Why, your wife and daughter, of course!" I gloated from his own recliner. "You do want them to remain unharmed, don't you?"
"You have them?" He questions, trying to buy time for his little mind to comprehend the threat.
"They're safe with the others, for now. As long as you play ball."
A rare flash of... panic? Anger? Then it was smothered by his characteristic self-control. After a few seconds' hesitation, he prompts, "others?"
"Yes," I purr, "they're quite well guarded. You see, the League has decided it's time for a change in our relationship."
"You know they're dead men." Calm and collected, that would have been a good opening if it was somebody else's family on the line. He was too much the doting father for me to believe it here.
"Yes, yes, you're angry, but we both know you care far too much to carry out that threat. You may have got the drop on the Lady of Terror, but make a move and you'll never reach your family in time. And I can assure you, it won't be clean."
"I'm the one who does the dishes."
"No, no, we're extorting you, not mugging you. Humanizing yourself doesn't help here. You've lost. This is the time for you to ask what we want."
"Not humanizing, commiserating. We're both guilty of underestimation." He sighed and continued, "I never beat the Lady of Terror. Nobody beats the Lady of Terror."
"Did you think anyone believed you were strong enough to take the most powerful supervillain of the last thousand years? Trust me, nobody thought it was a fair fight. But I can assure you, you'd never make it."
"You're not getting it. I never defeated her at all. I'm the one who lost. That's why I do the dishes. *And she doesn't*."
Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
"I just married her. You and your League threatened her child and invited her in."
|
It has taken fifteen years to find him, but I have finally done it. The fool has his whole family in one spot.
Seeing the light ahead, he slowed his pace and began sticking closer to the trees for cover. Seth was expecting a fight, and this time, he wouldn't underestimate his enemy. Slowly making his way towards the cabin, he kept an eye out for any movement. That's when he saw him.
Seth watched from the darkness as Marcus lit a cigarette and sat on the porch swing, watching the fireflies light up the night. Dirty blonde hair, and just over 6 feet tall, Marcus was nearing the end of his prime. His younger years had taken a toll on his body, but he had grown accustomed to pain and it didn't bother him much anymore. Slowly exhaling, he watched the smoke drift into the sky, illuminated by the light of the moon.
Seth began moving slowly through the underbrush, making his way closer to the cabin. As he neared, he heard Marcus begin to hum. The tune was strangely familiar but he couldn't focus on details such as this. Fifteen years of training, planning, patiently waiting for Marcus to slip up. He had finally done it. A single message to check on his dying father was all Seth needed to find him.
Seth was close enough to see the mans face. He had aged, but maintained his thick shoulders and athletic physique. Seth had no doubt he was still as dangerous as the first night they met. Marcus got up, flicked the cigarette into the small pond and walked back towards the house.
Seth grabbed a small rock and threw it about 15 yards away. *Smack*
Marcus had his hand on the doorknob when he turned towards the sound, his face growing serious. He immediately reached towards his back and pulled out a short dagger from his waste. Seth watched, confirming what he believed. His enemy was still waiting for him. Moving in the shadows away from where he threw the rock, he grabbed another stone and threw it against a tree 15 yards behind him. Marcus stood completely still, slightly hunched, dagger in hand, waiting. Seth used the gaps in a bush to look at Marcus. The man remained completely still, eyes in constant motion; his whole front draped in shadow, his back lit by the light of the cabin.
Seth heard the cabin door open, "Daddy, what are you doing haha."
Quickly turning around, Marcus hid the dagger behind his back, sheathing it while saying, "Nothing sweetheart, I was just about to come say goodnight. Where's mommy?"
"She's in the bath. She said you were gonna tell the story tonight."
He saw Marcus smile and say, "Of course I will. I'll be right there. Think about which story you want to hear while I go grab some more wood for the fire."
"Okay!"
Hearing the door shut, Seth watched as Marcus made his way towards him. Keeping completely still he tried to control his breathing. His heart was beating so loud, he could feel the throbbing in his ears. Marcus had his dagger back out and was inching forward.
As soon as Marcus stepped through the tree line he let out a hard exhale. The breath had been taken from his lungs. Seth removed the dagger from Marcus's back and circled around to face him. Marcus dropped to his knees, struggling to catch his breath.
"Don't worry, my friend. I only punctured the lung. I wouldn't dream of killing you yet."
"Y...You."
"Yes, me. I would think after all these years you would have more to say that that. Fifteen years of imagining this moment and I must say... I'm disappointed. You have grown slow, your age is showing. I've heard children do that to you." Seth smiled, looking down at Marcus.
Marcus face turned to fear as he said, "W-why have you come?"
"All in good time. Now, I believe there are some introductions that need to be made. Let's go in and meet the family."
Slowly standing, Marcus said, "Leave my family... out of this."
"Like you left mine out of it?"
Marcus stood up straight, a sorrow spread across his face.
"Yes, you remember. She was the only thing I had in this world. The only reason for living. And you had to win, no matter the cost."
"I'm, I'm sorry."
"Yes, so am I. I should have done this sooner, but you have been annoyingly careful. I guess I know why. Children make us change many things about ourselves. Now, no more catching up, let's go."
"Please, don't do this."
"Don't beg, it's beneath you."
"Seth, please. I'll do anything."
"Anything? Well, that *is* tempting. Move"
Kicking Marcus caused him to gasp for breath. Maintaining his feet, he slowly began to walk towards the cabin.
"I don't have to tell you that if you make any noise to alert your family, I will make you watch while I take it out on them."
Marcus stayed silent. Reaching the front door, Marcus started to go for the doorknob when he heard, "Ah, ah, ah. Let's not get hasty."
Throwing Marcus a few zip ties he said, "Put these on. Hands round front so I can see. No games, use your teeth to tighten them."
Marcus tightened the ties around his wrists as tight as they would go.
"Okay, turn towards the door. Just one more thing."
Letting out another strong exhale, Marcus fell to his knees.
Seth removed the dagger from Marcus' shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll live. I just can't have you in fighting shape. Who knows what you have hidden in there. I bet you kept all sorts of treats from the good ol' days. Now, move."
(continued in comments)
| 2020-07-19T02:58:47 | 2020-07-19T01:53:46 | 96 | 44 |
[WP] In order to solve the climate crisis, humanity shrinks itself down to ant size people. Generations pass, and eventually we forget that we were once giants. A group of humans decide to go exploring and stumbles upon the ruins of an ancient, huge city...
|
We were often told as children that the Place Beyond the Grass was not meant for our kind. Only the ants, with their iron carapaces and fierce determination, were destined to leave the forest. Even they could stay for only a short time, before the harsh environment drove them back into the depths of their subterranean kingdom.
When the ants came for our above ground abode, trampling over our farms and our houses, we had no choice. I can still recall the scuttering footfalls of their warband, as they charged into our homes and levelled our buildings. The ensuing fight was short and devastating. We had little in the way of armaments, and the ants were born with them. We had only the clothes we constructed from the forest, and the ants were born with a thick shell. We fled to the only place we could, the only place that hadn't been overrun by the ants in their eternal and unyielding conquest: The Place Beyond the Grass.
So our journey began. The refugees of a once proud people, scattered to the winds and the whims of the Place Beyond the Grass.
So many of our group were not prepared for the journey. We were uprooted; blades of grass torn from their ancestral homes. I recall being in the Place Beyond the Grass for nearly 5 days, the black stone burning our feet during the day and pressing uncomfortably into our backs during the night. Of the thirty odd survivors, about half fell from sunstroke or dehydration. The dew was not plentiful as it was in the humid climes of the forest. Our only source of food and water were occasional weeds which erupted from cracks in the stone beneath us, small oases in the great black desert. Several of our people could travel no longer, the pain and suffering of the journey overtaking their wills just as the ants had overrun our homes. I still think about them, as I lay in bed at night, staring at the great stars above. What became of them?
On the second day, we sighted the Pillars.
Huge, monolithic structures, made from colossal fragments of obsidian that had been shaped into harsh geometric shapes. Even from where we saw them, ten thousand days of travel away, the structures seemed to hold the sky aloft. If we were in the grass, this would have no doubt sparked debate among our tribe's wise men. In The Place Beyond the Grass, words were cheap. Even our loudest and boldest troublemakers were stunned and exhausted into a melancholic silence which rivaled the stone beneath our feet in its hostility.
On the fourth day, we saw the Lights, columns of shiny stone that stretched high into the air before bending into an arch.
At the end of the arches a bulb of quartz was attached. We marveled at the objects during the day, wondering at their purpose. That night, we were stunned when the quartz bulb came to life, illuminating our faces and the stone around us. The light was purple, and we at once feared we had been caught in the trap of some mystical creature from the wastes. We quickly packed our meager belongings and travelled on, leaving the Lights and their alluring glow behind.
On the fifth day, we found the Grass again, or at least something akin to the green forests we once knew. The grass here was a different shape, but largely seemed to function the same as before. We fell to our knees. Had we truly survived The Place Beyond the Grass?
In time, we found others. The inhabitants of this forest. They looked like us, and their buildings and tools were similar. They wore pieces of a black gum under their feet, from a great ore they call the Mish Ellen, a massive shiny disc surrounded by the black gum. Their tools were made from shards of the same shiny stone the Lights were cast from, although they know nothing of the magical glowing quartz at the tip of the Lights. We shared with them the story of our journey, and their faces darkened. They too, had fought with ants. Great beasts colored the same as our blood. Their weapons were able to pierce their hide, though, so the ants kept their distance. They welcomed us into their home with open arms, and for that we will be forever grateful.
~
But that story was a lifetime ago, and now I am an old man, rendered frail by the passage of time. I took the role of a storyteller, a vocation I was all too happy to fulfill for our village. The time I spent in the Place Beyond the Grass is my most popular tale, although I have other grounded tales which serve as well.
I know my time is limited, now more so than ever, so I have resolved to write down my tales, so that our children, and their children's children, may learn something of the Place Beyond the Grass. While the great Mish Ellen gives us many things, it is not an infinite resource. Even now, we must battle the blood ants in order to gather the black gum, and the shiny stone we gather is becoming tainted by the blood ants, slowly becoming red and brittle.
I hope that these trials are only small hurdles our village can overcome. I fear that they are not.
It is my dying wish to travel once again through that harsh stone waste, yet I cannot fathom why. Should fortune favor me, I may even be able to reach the foot of the Pillars. I can only pray that my village need not follow me into the Place Beyond the Grass.
|
The party crept through abandoned streets to the droning hum of the lightning priest’s warding prayer. Dani shivered despite the heat. She had never felt so small before, so enclosed within an open space, not even beneath the great sunless canopy of the forest.
“Frightened, little stowaway?” Cavon whispered in her ear.
Dani did not jump. She turned toward him, her eyes hard, and he clapped her on the shoulder, his laughter bouncing back upon them from the towering transparency of the buildings all around them. “What is this place?” she asked when the noise finally died.
“The city of the gods,” the lightning priest intoned, the only thing to break his humming in hours. “The land that came before and will come again, the home of the bolt, the Priory of the Endless Surge, the—”
“That’s enough.”
All eyes turned to Carla. She wore a bandoleer of knives across her chest, a rifle across her shoulder. Her hair, in what little sunlight filtered down to them through the material Dani had heard called ‘glass,’ was fire red.
“The path is clear,” Carla said. “Come.”
She slipped her rifle off her shoulder, Cavon loaded his crossbow, and they advanced deeper into the city.
Dani had not intended to be on this trip. When she slipped out of her father’s home and into the first wagon she saw, she had not thought it to be on a quest. She could never have known, nestled between the tubers and the hardtack, that she would be dragged down into a place out of myth.
But she had been, and now Dani could not tear her eyes from what she saw.
All around her was what had been. It was tall steel and miles of glass, unbowed by time and the Great Upheaval. Upswept stone beneath her feet, dark, and though now cracked by time clearly carved of one great unbroken unit at the city’s founding. It was the wind whistling through the wreckage of building that had fallen, bouncing off rusted steel and across wheel-less carriages that the lightning priest claimed, incredibly, to have hovered.
It was a place that made Dani feel as if she was no one at all, exactly the feeling she had left home to escape.
“Why have you brought me here?” Dani whispered to Cavon. They brought up the rear, behind the lightning priest and his cart of wires and gloves and aprons, far behind Carla who stood even now upon the shattered promontory of one of the great carriages, rifle to her eye.
“You brought yourself,” Cavon said, smiling.
“Then why did you come?” she insisted.
“Because we must. Because all men must meet their gods eventually.”
Dani pondered it. It wasn’t an answer, not really, but the way Cavon was smiling at her she thought she might still be able to pull one from him. “Do you believe in the gods?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Blasphemy!” The priest broke his hum again, turning on them. “The Gods exist! There is no doubt.”
“Then, what do they look like?” Dani asked.
Cavon kept his smile, the priest grew an unexpected laugh. “The Gods,” the priest said, “are creatures of pure energy! They are as far beyond us as we are beyond lice. They are a sine wave made manifest, the electric thrill through blood and sinew, the surge!” His voice fell to a whisper. “The Bolt.”
And all of them, even Dani and Cavon who did not believe, made the sign of the chest over their hearts.
“But why do we come?” Dani asked again, as the priest turned to pull his cart once more.
“Because of that,” Carla called from her perch, pointing around the next ninety degree bend.
Dani raced ahead, rounded it, and saw.
A structure stood in a giant square. Not a building, for there was no way to get inside, but a sort of four sided canister taller than anything ever made by man. It stood alone in the center, no carriage wreckage, no encroaching buildings or shattered glass or broken metal, completely alone in a city where nothing at all had been made alone.
“The Obelisk,” the lightning priest said from behind her.
And Dani understood. Anyone would have, to see that. “What does it say?” she asked.
The priest shrugged. “It carries the word of the gods, beyond that we cannot know.” He sniffed the air. “Can you feel it, child? Can you feel it pulsing through the air around you? Can you smell it? Oh how it makes me hair stand on end!”
Dani sniffed. She couldn’t smell anything. “No? Am I supposed to?”
“Foolish girl!” The priest pulled his cart right up to the face of the thing, dropping it and donning his sacred gloves and apron. “It’s the Surge! There is still Power here, anyone could tell!”
Carla whistled, making a circling gesture with her finger. She and Cavon leapt up climbing the cracks in the strange stone as they went higher and higher, feet above the ground. Dani could not imagine how anyone could climb so high so easily as them.
“What now?” she asked the priest.
“Now you wait, and I work.”
It took hours. The priest crawled through and around and over the gargantuan obelisk, dragging his wires with him. He raced around the square from one point to another, complex instruments in his hands, and always to the sound of the prayers. Now they were no longer the hum of warding, but the keening whine of beseeching.
Dani sat and watched. In time she tried to climb up next to Cavon. He smiled down at her patronizingly, reaching out a hand but never truly helping, and after the first foot she had to scurry back down, too scared to go any further.
And then the priest screeched with delight, and Cavon and Carla scrambled down too.
“Is it done?” Carla said.
“It is done!” the priest shouted.
“The church will be so pleased,” Cavon said, dryly.
Carla shot him a glare. “Father, what will the obelisk show?”
“The word of god. The wisdom of god. The secrets and the majesty. My children, tonight we might be the first men to see the faces of the Gods themselves!”
The faces of the gods. Dani could hardly imagine it. Inside she ached for the safety between the tubers and the hardtack.
But the priest had already brought out his gilded switch, wires leading from it to the obelisk, and they grasped hands together in prayer.
The priest made the sign of the Bolt on each of their chests, and then he threw the switch.
For a moment nothing happened. Then the world sparked and Dani heard a scream that might have been her own. Red light bathed the square, the intense heat of it settling into her skin, blurring her eyes, forcing her back, back. But Cavon’s hand gripped tight to hers and there was no back, only up.
Dani gazed up at the Obelisk, and found the face of god.
A woman gazed down at her. She was beautiful in a way that tore at Dani’s heart: soft, lineless features that had never know hard work or a hard day in the sun, long hair, such a pale blond that she had never seen in her life, uncalloused fingers, gripped tight around a dark glass bottle.
Words blazed to life above the woman’s head, Dani was shocked when she realized she could read them.
***DRINK COKE,*** the words said. They repeated on all four of the obelisk’s sides. ***DRINK COKE. DRINK COKE. DRINK COKE.***
There was no pure expression of a sign wave. No creature of surges and bolts, only a woman and a bottle, and a long stretch of sand and impossibly blue water below a perfect sunset.
***DRINK COKE.***
“Father, what is coke?” Carla whispered.
The priest had fallen to his knees, head lowered to the ground as he prayed.
“Some sort of drink,” Dani said.
“Or the girl,” Cavon muttered.
“Proof of GOD!” shouted the priest, his face still pressed into the ground.
And Dani, looking up into the girl’s eyes, realized that for the first time in her life she thought she believed. “She looks so like us,” Dani said, “you didn’t say it would look like us.” The girl- the god- was so impossibly large above them. Large enough to fit the buildings, large enough to make the strange world of this strange city make sense. “Where did all this come from? Where did we come from?”
The priest stood, tilted his face towards the heavens and said “From Coke.”
\------------------
If you enjoyed that I have tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out! I'd love to have you.
| 2021-06-30T10:33:16 | 2021-06-30T09:41:16 | 456 | 130 |
[WP] In the early 22nd century, mankind is invaded by an alien power. As war rages on across the Solar System, our situation feels hopeless. Until another fleet of starships reaches the Solar System and they help us turn the tides basically overnight. Turns out our saviors are... human.
|
Captain Barrymore Simmons flicked his half-finished cigar at a nearby intern and began pacing towards the starship.
The Polycephaloids, known as the Hydra among the plebeian populace, had employed a quite literal scorched Earth tactic as they came raining down from the heavens above. Smoke and the smell of sulphur overloaded the senses of humanity--at least the part that hadn't already burnt to a crisp. When all hope seemed lost, they arrived.
Simmons had been among those who believed it was just another explosion. A trick. As the commanding officer of the American Space Force this disaster fell on his hands. Not since the collapse of China had the world seen the skies filled with this amount of fire and fury. The Polycephaloid vessel fell, crushing most of Manhattan, erupting like a scaled-up version of the old Hindenburg. But then the others made their appearance. From the visuals alone they were unmistakably human in design, and they fought the Polycephaloids on equal terms.
Privately, high-ranking officers and state officials praised Simmons for being able to pull this out from his sleeve at the last moment. At first they didn't believe him when he told him it wasn't theirs. That it wasn't even of Earth, as far as he could tell.
When the smoke had cleared, in every sense, captain Barrymore Simmons received a request from the otherworldly fleet: they wanted a meeting. And they would meet with none other than him.
Some had begun to speculate that Simmons had prepared all of this in silence, setting the stage for global domination. He was, after all, a descendant of the legendary J. K. Simmons who had brought the world close to its knees.
As he stood on the agreed-upon spot he braced himself. Teleportation meant instant death to the consciousness of the teleportée—what was assembled afterward was a carbon copy complete with memories and back pain. It was a relief then, when he found himself aboard the vessel intact. Of course, he knew the original had perished. But that was of little consequence to the clone, who was happy to carry on as if nothing had happened.
But sight that met him onboard shook him to his very core. That these beings appeared human did not surprise him. He had already assumed that to be the case and had even formed a couple of theories as to their true nature. But this ...
"Greetings, captain," said one of them.
"Explain," said Simmons simply as he stared at a team of men and women with a startling resemblance to himself.
"We come from a dimension where Jonathan succeed in his mission. Easily defeating the alien forces back home, we decided to do the same in every dimension carrying his successors."
Simmons approved of the explanation with a nod. "And the Polycephaloids?"
"I assume you are asking whether they are our work. Unfortunately, they are not. The situation as it stands is far worse. Earth has been compromised at an interdimensional level by a rogue Jonathan. We have not been able to ascertain his aims, and we need all the help we can get stopping him. Can we count on your support, captain Barrymore?"
He had considered potential scenario 65Delta in the shower one morning, but had brushed it off as a flight of fancy. To think that was truly the case ...
"You can count on my assistence," said Simmons. "I will need an army of clones, however, if I am to whip this planet into shape."
"Of course, captain Barrymore. Will you need anything else?"
"Yes," he said, and lighted up another cigar, "an unlimited supply of these."
Earth had better be prepared, because Barrymore Simmons was coming. A whole lot of Barrymore Simmons.
/r/Hemingbird
|
Riley peered through a telescope and pin pointed the an alien mother ship. It was tucked away towards the back of the fleet of star fighters. At least, that's what Riley and his friend assumed the surround space ships were.
"That thing is massive," he said to Cole. "It's like a pizza and the smaller ships are the toppings."
Cole shoved his friend aside. He looked through the eye piece and nodded his head.
"Not just any pizza. A large Hawaiian. Extra pineapple." he winced away from the telescope. "It's completely disgusting."
He laid down his bed. He gazed at his ceiling and focused on the star shaped stickers (the kinda that glowed in the dark) that peppered his ceiling. *I should ask mom for some UFO stickers next time we're at the grocery store.* He thought. *Before everyone picks them dry.*
Cole turned over on his side and flipped on his great grandfather's analogue radio. Nothing but static ever pierced through the speakers, but Cole liked the vintage appearance of the unit. In fact, he enjoyed a lot of things from the yesteryears. They were more tangible and needed some sort of manual effort in order to run -- like the two bicycles that sat in his parent's garage.
"Do you think they're nice aliens?" Riley asked.
Cole shook his head. "Not a chance. They brought their mother ship. That means we're toast. At least, that's how all the stories play out in ol' sci-fi comics."
"Maybe they're traveling and the mother ship is their Tesla mini van. And Earth could be a nothing more than a tourist sight!" Riley said and walked towards the window. He looked out into the night sky. "But if they're bad aliens, I think we can take them," he said and shook a fist as if he was challenging the infinite cosmos.
"Maybe. They clearly have superior technology while ours hasn't advanced much since the smart phone." Cole sighed. "Plus, you think the military will be all that welcoming? They don't seem like the kind of fellas that want to shake hands with a giant. I think they'll want to blast it, dissect it, and then braggingly compare how large its hand is compared to ours. It'd be nothing more than a trophy."
The two sat kept to themselves for a moment while the radio's static continuously emitted an uncomfortable high-frequency hiss.
"We could have something they don't have. A geographic advantage so-to-speak," Riley said and began to pace around the room.
"Once time, my club soccer team made it to the national championship. It was in Denver. I'd never been there and my parents told me a bunch of stuff about the city -- like how it's a mile above sea level. They said me being that high up would makes it difficult for us Texan folks to breathe when we ran since we're not used to thin air.
"Knowing this gave me a rush. I felt like I had secrete intel. While both teams were confused why they were huffing and puffing -- I'd know why. Acknowledging an issue gives someone a huge advantage on tackling a problem. I was sure we'd win the championship and I'd be deemed MVP."
Cole raised an eyebrow. "Well -- did ya win?"
"We got shut out," Riley said. "Turns out the other team was from Salt Lake City. It's not as high up as Denver is but it towers over our small town. They were pretty much adapted to the altitude. Anyway, what if we're from Salt Lake City, the Aliens are from here -- Bourne, Texas -- and Earth is Denver? Then we'd have a leg-up on them!"
Cole turned over on his side and drew a blanket over his face.
"You can get too optimistic sometimes," he said and started to drift asleep.
Riley stayed awake and squinted at the cloudless sky as if he were trying to hone in on one of the alien ships miles and miles away. Several scenarios of the days ahead raced through his mind. They ranged in their eventfulness: At one time, he thought the aliens would warp out of the solar system and were never seen again. Another thought depicted the aliens as attractive as a famous actor he recently started to fantasize about. Not only were the aliens easy on the eyes, but they were also genies that could grant not only three wishes, but *four*.
An hour past. Riley felt the weight of his eye lids. He grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from the hallway closet and returned to Cole's room. He made a little bed on the floor and tried to fall asleep but the radio's white noise static prevent him from doing so.
He got up and rotated the few knobs on the device.
The unit's volume raised, and more obnoxious sounds came from the speaker as the analogue dial glided through its spectrum.
"What in the hell!" Cole said as he awakened.
"I'm trying to turn this damn thing off!" Riley shouted back in a whispered.
"Gimmie it! You'll end up breaking the damn thing!"
Cole began to reach for the radio but stopped with his arm half extended. For the first time in over a century, a voice came through the tiny speaker.
"Citizens of Earth," the voice said. "The Quantfierscians are a powerful extraterrestrial force from the Lagua HO78 system. They are similar to a species on your planet you've titled *hornets*. They will eventually pass through your solar system if unprovoked, but will strike with an force unimaginable to your planet if their hive is disturbed.
"We are the Undirixlce, and we share nearly identical DNA with your species. Whoever maybe listening to this might have a lot of questions. We have answers, but for now think of us as what you call exterminators. We will calmly redirect the Quantfierscians away from your planet in 72 Earth hours. But until then, stay put and *don't disturb their hive!*"
There was a beat of silence before the recorded voice went through the same script.
The two boys looked at each other with their mouths agape.
"We need to wake up your mom and show this to her," Riley said with a trembling voice.
Cole took the radio from his friends hand, unplugged it, and stored it in a backpack. He began to change out of his pajamas.
"What are you doing?" Riley asked.
"Mom's not an option. I wager she's passed out on the couch after downing a bottle of wine while watching the latest Netflix 2 series. Get changed, we're taking this to the media. They'll be able to set this thing on blast and get the word out quicker than we ever could."
Riley did as they were instructed. "You want to take it down to the local news station? That's 10 miles away, it'll take all night to get there."
"Not if we ride the bikes," Cole said.
"I don't know how to ride one of those!"
"Hush. One bike has some metal peg you can stand on while I pedal. Trust me on this."
The two scrambled down to the garage and rode the bicycle the back eastward towards the local news station. Despite being in the middle of the night, the boys were wide awake.
Cole thought about the voice through the radio and smiled. If they were anything like humans, then his best friend Riley was right. Humans did have an advantage. They weren't all like hornets. When needed, they'd help each other out. Even if they lived galaxies apart.
| 2021-10-30T04:10:42 | 2021-10-30T04:04:30 | 286 | 81 |
[WP] You’ve begun to suspect the homeless girl at the Library isn’t human at all
|
"Um, excuse me..."
"Yes?"
"Are you the head librarian here?"
"Yes."
"So, um, I've been coming here for a few weeks, and...well, do you see that girl over there? with the ragged green coat."
"The one in hutch against the wall?"
"Uh, yeah. That one."
"Is she bothering you?"
"No! No, not at all. Actually, I was wondering if she could, um, you know, use some help."
"In what way?"
"Well, I stay until closing sometimes, and...I don't ever see anyone ever come pick her up. Do you know if she's...well, if she might be homeless? I volunteer down at the local women's shelter, if she's got a bad home situation--"
"Oh, that's kind of you, but that won't be necessary."
"No...? Um, I hate to be nosy, but do you know her parents or something? You know, I just want to make sure she's ok..."
"Sir, may I ask you something?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever noticed anyone else talk to her before?"
"Um...no."
"Have you ever seen her enter or leave the building before?"
"Now that you mention it, no, actually, I haven't."
"Exactly. You seem new around here, so let me let you in on a little secret: that girl has been coming in here for a *long* time. She reads her books, and she puts them back. And while I can tell your heart's in the right place, you can rest assured that the only help she ever needs is reaching the top shelf for something that catches her eye, and that's something that we take care of. So I wouldn't worry too much about it, and just let her be."
"Are you sure? I mean, I can bring her lunch or something at least--"
"Trust me, sir, she wouldn't eat it. But I appreciate your concern."
"Um, ok then, if you're sure....?"
"Don't worry, she's fine. Oh, and sir?"
"Yeah?"
"If you really want to give her something, you can go buy her flowers and leave them at this address here. She's the third headstone on the right."
|
It began quite innocuously. A rather large crowd was entering the library and we were driven together by the swathes of patrons as we ascended the stairs to the entrance and thus I bid her good day.
"Why?" she asked, stopping in place to stare at me. I found it quite unnerving.
"There is no reason, really." I explained. "Regardless of whether or not the speaker thinks the day good, the phrase 'Good day' can be used as a greeting." I continued up the stairs, but she remained in place.
"That is confusing." she stated matter-of-factly. "It would be better to issue a more direct greeting."
"If you say so." I replied before going about my day. I'd never seen her before, at least around the library, but for whatever reason I felt I'd had much more of a history with her than I did.
​
The next time I was sitting at a table outside the café a few days later. She arrived dressed in a grey tarp, worn as a cape atop an old hoodie and torn jeans, receiving a few strange looks from the bustling populace around us.
"I greet you." she stated, staring at me intently.
"Hello." I replied. We both simply stared at one another for an uncomfortable amount of time.
"Please, sit." I said, not as much wanting her company as much as simply to break the deafening silence.
"Sit...?" she asked, glancing around worriedly before spotting the other chair. "Ah, yes." she said, sitting opposite me, her cape draping over the back of the chair. I drummed my fingers against my temple, trying to think of what to say next. Thankfully, she was the one to disrupt the quiet this time.
"What is that?" she asked, slowly pointing a finger at my pendant.
"It is a locket." I stated, thankful for something to do with my hands as I attempted to open it. Once I'd succeeded, I turned it towards her. "Inside there is an image of my father, who is dead."
"I think I have heard of this." she said, narrowing her eyes. "You carry it with you to be reminded of him, yes?"
"That is accurate."
"Would you forget him without it?"
"No, of course not. He was my father and I loved him."
"Then why do you require these objects to remind you?"
"Can we discuss something else?"
"Very well." she said, retracting her arm.
"I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Pierce." I said, offering a handshake.
"No you're not." she said, appearing quite confused. "You're human."
"Um, yes, but Pierce is my name." I said, lowering my hand.
"Oh! Names! Ah, I am, um..." while she panicked, my attention was drawn away from her. I was for some reason surprised to find that the café was still busy; it had seemed so calm. I looked to my watch and found that I would likely be late for work.
"Tear!" she said, standing up and knocking her chair over. I jolted backwards. "My name is Tear. I am Tear." she reiterated.
"...Good to see you again, Tear." I replied. "I'm afraid I must leave presently in order to go to work. Perhaps we will meet again."
"I am certain of it." she said. I didn't feel her stare leave me all the way to my office.
​
"Are you okay?" I heard above me. I looked up from my keyboard to see Ingrid peering over our cubicle divider.
"I feel fine." I said, continuing to type as I conversed with her.
"You're typing loud as shit." she said. "That's weird, even for you."
"Language, Ingrid." I replied, taken aback by her vulgarity. "We're at work, be professional."
"Yeah, whatever." she said, rolling her eyes. "Like I said, you're acting weird. What's up?" Tear came to mind, but for unknowable reasons I hesitated to mention her.
"Nothing is up." I stated. "I told you, I feel fine."
"If you say so." she stated before sitting back down behind the wall. Her insolence irked me. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. To my surprise, I wasn't surprised to see Tear standing next to me.
"I greet you." she said, her cold breath caressing my face. It smelled of pepper.
"And I you." I replied. "Why are you here?" she held up a locket which looked identical to mine. I glanced down to my chest to ensure that it was still there. She opened her locket to reveal a picture of Ingrid.
"Where'd you get that?" I asked, startled.
"Image of the dead." she said, grimacing and taking a small jar out of a pocket.
"Wh- Ingrid is- Did you- What?" I asked. Her expression soured further.
"I- I \*hhkkh\* like you, P-pierce." she choked out, as if trying to prevent herself from vomiting. "She is- \*khhk\* is a ***bother***." she said, her voice deepening and growing desynchronized from her mouth as she began coughing up a viscous, bubbling grey liquid, lifting her hand to stop it from spilling upon the floor. I drew back, retreating in my swivel chair to one of the corners.
"What are- are you sick? I-" the liquid seemingly burned her flesh, but she didn't react. The droplets which escaped made minute holes in the floor as she redirected the flow into the jar she'd produced, finishing expunging the substance from her body. I stared in horror as she moved closer, paralyzed with fear.
"Image of the dead." she repeated, placing the jar into my hand and closing my fingers around it. "She is a bother."
| 2022-01-15T13:53:49 | 2022-01-15T11:24:15 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You are the only human at the Arcane College, and the students there are not exactly welcoming. Fast forward four years, and you are the most terrifying magic caster in the academy's history.
|
"Imagination sets us apart. They imagined you to be of a lesser race. They imagined your casting to be inferior. You imagined a school without the trappings of social prejudice. Of racism and sexism and the other -isms that would schism a community like this. I am glad you found yourself to be wrong, dear boy," Professor Shedun circled my creation with glee. The xenobiology instructor was absolutely smitten.
"Professor?"
"Please do not misunderstand me. I have sympathy for you. It was hard for me as well. But I have learned a saying among your people that I believe summarizes my feelings far better than I can relay them. 'Conflict breeds innovation'. Some of humanity's greatest tools were created in times of war. Even some of your best media, such as those Pikz-arr films were born from a process called 'plussing'. Each time something is criticized, it is re-shaped. Refined. If they did not push you so hard, would you have come this far?" The sphinx prodded around the pedestal longingly. I could practically see him drooling. The old cat was probably picturing me in his hall of fame photo album, proudly holding an award or a trophy or something. He'd get to brag, rightly, that he's the one who supported me and taught me xenobiology, turned me into the man I will be.
"One extra wrinkle in your neocortex. One small expansion to your thalamus bred *this*. Your imagination allowed this to take fruition. Fueled by the... unwelcoming nature of your peers. You are the greatest academic of your generation, dear boy! Imagine the research you could conduct!" My subtle turn and blushing wasn't lost on the old sphinx. "...That is why you've recreated the most dangerous magical creature to ever exist... correct?"
"Yeah, yeah, definitely, Professor." I reached out and pet the small wyrm. It nuzzles my hand briefly before returning to cleaning its padded feet.
"...Jeffery. These creatures-- I need you to look at me. These creatures are the most perfect predators in any known universe. Whether created by a god or evolution or some revenge driven mage, they all turn out the same. No matter what alterations you have performed in the mutagenic process, it is still a dange--." The honeymoon period was wearing off. The old sphinx saw what I created for what the others would see it as. Now he's scared, too.
"No, I've domesticated it using Wulfsir's neural augmentation circle and set a growth limiter with Rogneer's technique. It'll be the same size as a terrier and act like one. But with wings. And a developing oxidization sac."
"But what is the purpose of it?" Spike burped contentedly, a small fireball burning the hair off my hand.
"... I wanted a pet. I get lonely."
|
In the early 21st century a new space race began. By the mid century we were colonizing our solar system. In the waning years of the century we finally took to the stars.
With 3 stars it was tricky, but we first colonized Alpha Centauri. Next we took to Barnard's Star and Wolf 359.
It’s now the 23rd century and we’ve met new life and civilizations. Scientists predicted well what they may look like. Some are insectoid, some aquatic, and some who pejoratively refer to as wind bags. The Quviviq are a race of jellyfish like creatures that fly through the air on their low gravity home.
What our scientists could have never predicted is that the Quviviq use what we’ve finally come to accept as magic.
The Communist Confederation, a collection of nations including Russia and china, have been permitted to study their magic. And that’s where I come in, I was born and raised in the барнард (Barnard) system as a citizen of the CC as we call it.
Preliminary tests showed that of all the citizens of the CC, I’m the only one who may have an aptitude to learn the Quviviq’s magic. Thus diplomats and scientists paved the way for me to attended what is the equivalent of one of their community colleges.
Perhaps it’s because I have to wear an EV suit. Perhaps they know the knuckle-dragers of our civilization call them names. Perhaps it’s a cultural indignation for an outsider attempting to learn magic, I don’t know. I just know from day one I’ve been the hated outsider.
My hard work is often praised by the ‘bullies’ of my classes, to which the other students react in what I’ve discerned as a negatively amused manner. I don’t understand how being nice to someone is insulting but we are very alien to each other.
Academically, my first year went terribly. I failed every assignment, failed every test. If not for the established agreement I’m sure I would have been thrown out after 3 Earth Months. I studied 12 hours a day and practiced magical application 4 hours a day. The weight of expectations from all of humanity was always too much. It got to the point where I’d cry myself to sleep, only to wake up a few hours later from stress induced nightmares.
I begged the Communist Confederation to relieve me of this duty. Clearly the test was wrong. Every response would be in the form of an AI program to help my stress, cognitive abilities or as a tutor.
By the middle of my second year at this college, I had been all but abandoned by humanity. Friends and family no longer send calls or email. I hadn’t talked to anyone from the government in a year. All they do is send additional AIs to ‘help’. Google Translate AI isn’t exactly someone or something I can talk to.
It got to the point where I was teetering on the edge. One moment I’d be studying ancient Quviviq magic, the next I’d be contemplating the best course for a quick suicide.
During one of these episodes I was in the oldest, abandoned part of their library. In a daze I walked through row after row of hard copy data files. I misjudged my EV thrusters and bumped into their version of a shelf and knocked a file off the ‘shelf’. On defeated whim I took it and had my suite of AIs translate and prepare it for me.
What I discovered in that data file changed everything. The best comparison is, it’s the Source Code for Quviviq magic. It wasn’t this mystical beyond the veil bullshit after all!
They had discovered an 8th form of physics! Their magic is just based on what I’ll call Quvivism and quantum physics. My first thought was to copy and send this information to the CC. Then I remembered the last 19 Earth Months of hell they put me through. I realized I finally held power over those bastards! I just needed to seize it. I thought I’d ask for a list of several AI programs to help me sort though the physics and others to mask my true intentions. However it came to me. I just need a creative AI that creates others for specific tasks. After all once I have a basic understanding of Quvivism I’d still need to apply it as magic. That’d require who knows how many programs to assist me.
Starting my 3rd year at the Quviviq Community college, I was their top student.
I had a whole host of AI to assist me. Translation, Physics, application, spell execution, etc.
Their chants and body movements were not meaningless to me, I had access to their source code, the reasons behind the traditions, katas, and incantations.
Soon I’ll graduate and then I’ll show those careless politicians and scientists in the CC what true suffering is.
\[Would you like to know more?\]
Earth Colonies: Alpha Centauri is 4.3 LY away. Barnard’s Star is 5.9 LY away. Wolf 359 is 7.8 LY away.
AI: Not a true sapient AI, more along the lines of what we have now. Hey google do a thing, Alexa buy me a thing. Search engine search for an info.
Communist Confederation: The space race sent many nations into a frenzy, global warming kept that frenzy going. Technology and space exploration exploded. Economies changed drastically. Companies began becoming too powerful. Countries put them in their place but at the cost that many had to team up. North American Alliance, European Union, Communist Confederation, and more. Space was expensive and teaming up was the best chance for victory. In the end no coalition gained a solid advantage over another and the common person was the true winner. Social and technological, progress, better jobs, better pay, the list goes on.
| 2022-01-23T13:56:33 | 2022-01-23T11:57:24 | 43 | 28 |
[WP] The nukes are about to start flying and it looks like that's it for the world. At the last moment, though, all of the big, immoral corporations step in - there are profits to be had and they'll be damned if thermonuclear war is going to get in the way.
|
"You think we just bought Marvel for the money?"
Bob Iger stood up, a glint in his eye.
"It was always the *ideas* we needed, or did you think everything was just CGI"
There was a pause, as the assembled government officials wondered what the CEO of Disney was harping on about, and why now, when early warning systems had picked up incontrovertible evidence of multiple North Korean missile launches.
"Everyone has noticed the deterioration in international relations lately, and damned if we were going to let the government sort out the fate of the world, especially when there are profits to be collected"
"Damn it Bob, what the fuck are you on about?" The president demanded. "This is a top level meeting, who let you in here anyway?"
In response, Bob simply extended his arm, and turned to reveal a man wearing a distinctive red and gold suit.
"Is that-" stammered the secretary of defence "Iron man?" His astonished expression matching many of the men and women around him.
"In the flesh, or rather, the titanium" said Bob, "but certainly not the only one. We have hundreds of these, most of which are currently in-flight over the Pacific."
"But... How?" The President managed to force out, still not being able to fully realise what he was looking at.
"Not for you to know, suffice it to say you may be about to get some confused transmissions from your F-35 pilots" he said, motioning to the secretary of defence. "And may I introduce you to a few of my colleagues in this program" he continued to talk as a few more men walked into the room, each as rich as the last, "Mr Wilson, Mr Gates, and Mr Bezos, all part of this initiative."
"It isn't that we lack faith in the government's defence system," interjected Jeff "just that we wanted a guarantee of our own".
Bill continued "With all of this market uncertainty, we didn't want anything threatening our portfolios. It doesn't matter how diversely you've invested if everything goes blown up, does it now? Think of this as our way of saying thank you for allowing these kinds of monopolies, and for *continuing to allow them*" he trailed off, somewhat conspiratorially.
At this point the defence secretary's phone buzzed "UFO spotted over sea of Japan - looks like TIE fighter?" he read aloud "This just came in from our 8th task force stationed there, what is this?"
"One of our better collaborations" said Andrew Wilson, motioning to Bob "and very fun to work on"
"We'd like to make it clear" said Bob "that while we don't intend to make a habit of this, we will do so again if needs be. Get better missile defences." With that he turned on his heels and walked out, followed by the rest of his 'entourage'
The weeks that followed were interesting ones for the United States, and much of the rest of the world. Praise poured in for the way in which the strike had been dealt with by the US military, most strongly from multinational CEO's, while a UN taskforce supported by the entire security council poured in to depose the Kim regime, now that their nuclear deterrent was spent.
Over the following years it was noted that Disney, Microsoft, and Amazon share prices continued to rise, Disney in particular after purchasing and dismantling EA. Many residents of east and west coast settlements noted a massive increase in anti-missile systems, but they put the increase down to the recent crisis, and the red and gold colour scheme down to aesthetics.
|
Bob ran his hand over the bedroom door. It needed sanding, or somebody was going to get a splinter. The Danielssons’ house was old, about 90 years by their estimate, although the town hall had burned in ‘39, and with it the construction record.
The old house made it easy for Bob to collect on his “arrangement.” Other guys (there must be others, or else what was the point?) had probably set up offshore accounts, shell corporations… Bob never had to worry about any of that. Instead, he would just get some work done on the house, and the bill always seemed to get lost. Bob would just get some work done on the house, and he’d make sure to pick a contractor who wore one of those funny rings.
—-
“Hey Bob, this is Lieutenant Martin, he’s coming to us straight from the Academy.”
“Nice to meet you, L.T. So, where ya from originally?”
“Memphis, sir. Born and raised.”
“You gettin’ used to the cold yet?”
“Not quite yet...” the Lieutenant chuckled nervously.
Smart guy, Bob thought. Missile crews spent their careers in places like Wyoming, Montana, Alaska… not the people you want to get into a pissing match with about cold weather.
He glanced at the Big Board behind the ops desk. They’d be doing some kind of internal scenario tonight - simulating a power outage, or maybe a fuel leak like the one that destroyed a silo and killed a man in Damascus, Arkansas. They would run the protocols. Not that the protocols had done much good in Damascus, but, Bob supposed, the Air Force couldn’t just tell people to “wing it.”
Bob knew all the protocols. Bob even knew some protocols that couldn’t be found in any book.
—-
Bob pushed the button in the elevator, which rumbled into motion. Silently, the button had another effect: it transformed Bob into Major Danielsson. Just as he had been instructed years ago. “Flip the switch,” they said. “Leave your bullshit upstairs.” “Downstairs” being the control room of a Minuteman-II Intercontinental Ballistic Missile site. Not the place to be distracted by thoughts of your broke-down pickup, or your pissed-off wife.
He quietly inventoried the pockets of his flight suit. Pen, two pencils, spare glasses, notepad, ID tags, jackknife. He felt the weight of the Beretta in its holster, nonchalantly checked the safety with his thumb.
“Who do you like this year, Walters?”
“The Packers,” replied Captain Gus Walters, still facing straight ahead.
They were 4 and 1, but Walters was one of those guys who wore a styrofoam cheese hat in his own living room every Sunday, and Danielsson knew it.
In the beginning, after he’d talked to those men in the diner outside Duluth, Danielsson was always sizing up his crewmates. He’d work them like some heavy-handed TV detective, always prying for details about their personal lives. He wanted desperately to know how many others there were, that being the key to any kind of success. The key to his going back up the elevator in one piece, should he have to make good on that old promise.
But he had driven himself nuts during those long shifts, behind the LCC’s quadruple-locked blast door. He’d certainly driven his crewmates nuts. They requested transfers. Nowadays he kept it light. Anyway, he figured, if there weren’t enough of them, he wouldn’t be around to face the consequences.
—-
Inside the Launch Control Center, both men signed the log, stating that they had inventoried the classified material.
“I’m gonna take five while you count the books.”
“Roger that,” said Walters. He strolled over to the rack of technical manuals, inventory list in hand.
Not a minute later, the blare of the klaxon filled the room, followed by a swarm of flashing lights on the control panel. Danielsson’s feet dropped off the desk as he bolted upright. He swallowed hard on the dry Wonder Bread of his ham and swiss. Whoever was running the show up at Command wasn’t making any friends tonight, running a launch drill right after shift change.
“Thirty Seven Bravo standing by for launch codes,” Bob spoke into his mic, as coolly as he could after startling. Gus slid into his own chair, and they both waited, pencils out, for the simulated launch code. It was usually something like “B-A-L-S-A-K” or “F-U-C-K-U-2,” depending who was on duty at Command.
“Thirty seven bravo, your launch code is November, Alpha, Niner, Hotel, Zulu, Golf. Authenticate.”
Danielsson and Walters exchanged a quick sideways glance. Maybe some General was touring the facility, keeping everyone on their P’s and Q’s.
They had both hesitated. “Thirty seven bravo, authenticate. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”
“Stand by for authentication!” Danielsson half-yelled into the mic.
Two trembling hands shot for the metal cabinet, turned the twin keys, grabbed two code books. Two plastic shells were cracked open.
“Launch code authenticated,” said Danielsson.
“I confirm authentication.”
“Thirty seven bravo authenticates,” Major Danielsson spoke into the mic. His urgency had been replaced with the eerily calm, mechanical tone he’d heard on cockpit voice recordings back in his flying days.
“Launch sequence initiated, T minus 23 seconds.” Each man verified this with the text on the monitors. This was the real deal.
At this point in the Air Force’s protocol, they would both grab the launch keys worn around their necks, and insert them into the switches on their respective panels.
At this point in that “other” protocol, they would both flip over their red binders containing the Launch Procedure, and place their non-dominant hands on top of the closed books.
In both protocols, the next step involved going for the Beretta.
Bob thought about his aging house, about what was inside. He thought about the officers manning the hundreds of silos across the U.S. He calmly turned his binder over and rested his left hand on top, his right hand already slithering across his stomach.
“Hoo,” Gus exhaled, quavering with adrenaline. Bob turned to see the Captain’s left hand on the upturned binder, his knuckles ashen.
Bob reached slowly toward the lower panel, pulled a pair of circuit breakers. The room went dead silent.
After a long moment, it was Gus who broke the silence. “What do you know about the Russians?”
For all his obsessing over his fellow officers, Bob had hardly ever considered whether similar arrangements had been made on the other side of the Curtain. But after all, it was *their* missiles that would be pointed at the Danielsson home.
“I guess we’ll find out in a few minutes.”
“Command hasn’t said a peep.”
He was right, and Bob took a deep breath, turned to face his crewmate. Now his fellow mutineer.
“That’s a good sign for us, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
And they waited in silence behind the quadruple-locked blast door.
| 2018-01-14T04:50:34 | 2018-01-14T03:42:33 | 39 | 10 |
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